URBAN PARENTING: Books to Remember

My daughter is certainly old enough to read on her own now. In fact, she is reading some of the books I read at school like To Kill a Mockingbird and The Great Gatsby. She is also reading books that I only read as an adult, like The Invisble Man.

But I do remember the days of reading to her. Laying in her narrow bed with the butterfly spread, her warm body draped on me and strands of her hair tickling my check. I knew that reading to my child was supposed to be virtuous, but I did not really understand why until now.

I believed her elementary school when they encouraged parents to read to their children for thirty minutes each night. And when they circulated a list of suggested books by age. I took her to the library storytimes. I listened to other parents offer children's books that they liked.

But I had a secret.

My daughter insisted that we read her favorite "non-classic" books. We read the same pink book about a little ballet dancer over and over. We read something maudlin about a pony. As she got older, we read "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants". Not destined to be a classic. But that is what she wanted to read. So I did, but I kept it our secret.

She still would love me to read her a book, but she is too old for me to share her bed and too distracted by homework, her social life, and electronics. I also must confess, she is not an active reader of fiction despite all that reading aloud and despite the fact that her dad and I are "crazy readers." She says she only likes nonfiction with a purpose.

So what did all that reading aloud get us? 

I asked her. She says she got my attention and love. While reading to her, I could not check email or have the t.v. or radio playing. I could not think about work or the laundry; I could only think about reading, and specifically reading to her. That is her memory.

Forget the classics! Forget teaching her to love books! Remember, teaching her that you love her completely!