Let me repeat that:
Phoebe Can Read.
Yes, I know. It's amazingly wonderful.
Now, that doesn't mean she can read The Iliad or The Great Gatsby, nor does it mean she doesn't complain about having to read the word "everybody" every single time she comes across it. The word "everyONE" never gives her a bit of trouble. Oh, no. But everyBODY? Just kill her now.
But the point is, She Can Read.
I am very, very delighted.
I didn't read until I was seven, (Phoebe is almost seven,) and recently, after a particularly frustrating day of lessons, I went and re-read the first chapter book I ever read. I still enjoyed it quite a lot, which means a. I was a super intelligent seven year old who was able to read a really advanced book, b. I'm an exceptionally stupid eighteen year old, or c. it's just a good story. (I'm going with c.)
I'm going to give the book to Phoebe for her seventh birthday, because tutoring her has allowed me to make the precious journey of learning to read all over again. And I have to say, I totally sympathize with Phoebe sometimes. Why DO they throw in all those extra "silent" letters?? She would've been reading weeks ago if four words out of five didn't didn't have a silent "e" somewhere in it.
Bottom line: I'm not gonna lie. I never thought she'd read the word should.
But she can. She reads "should," and "could," and "would" like they hadn't even tripped her up for three months and many, many tearful sessions.
She's so pleased with herself, and she told me at least three times today "This just feels so good, KK! You were right! Reading is fun!" Then she refused to read "everybody" for the fourth time, but oh well.
Happy, happy day.
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7 comments:
A lot of my sibs were 'late' readers (not me. I was exceptionally brilliant and learned to read at four. for real.)--'late' being in quotes to indicate that there is no 'right' age for reading (well, for young kids anyhow. that doesn't apply if you're forty and can't read)--and they all plunged straight from 'dickandjane' (or the equivalent thereof) to chapter books (does anyone still use dickandjane?). I think starting late means they're ready for advanced books sooner.
Congratulations Phoebe dear (and Auntie Katie!)! Reading is so wonderful!
(what was the book? all of us cut our chapter book teeth on little house. man, I love little house.)
Yours parenthetically
Phoebe walked up just as I pulled this up. "Oh, you're looking at Cake's blog" were her first words : ) Then I told her to read it and she did! (just the first three lines - she was horrified at the thought that I wanted her to read the whole thing) It tickled her pink that you wrote about her reading! Little does she know how often she's been your subject. How life will change when she can read everything!
Whoa. congratulations, Pheobe! That's awesome! The ability to read is invaluable.
HannR
English is a barbaric language, at least with respect to spelling. It must be torture to all except us word nerds and grammar Nazis.
We all have our houses and hope in them never to find mouses (oops!).
Never mind your height at age eight. You should still feel great. Especially if you never fall in a grate.
We kill the goose, or geese if there's two. We have the fleece, but there's never a floose. We have moose, but no meese. We have deer, my mere dear, but we may not have deers. Yet we do have a steer and we somehow have steers. It's sheer nonsense, good sirs! We shear the hair, but never the hare. Now, there there--don't have a care. This is our hour of power, seasoned with flour and prettied with flower.
I would get the wood, but it's too coarse, now of course. I might use a horse, 'twould be a mite easier. But I'm hoarse from the cough--and the dough still is rising. See the dough. See Jill show the dough. See the doe in the field--sing do-re-mi-do. Whee! We love English...a wee bit too much, can't you see! Faugh! Hear me laugh at the calf; hear me roar near the door. I'm insane from the pain, now hold the main rein!
See Jane shudder. See Dick crumple. See Dick and Jane go into the land of catatonia.
I hope I've shone some light on what I've shown. OK, I'm done with the pun. That was funny. Or was it phunny, honey?
As the Scotsman Mr. Ron B. might say, English is a freakin' mess! :-) And it's no wonder our children all have ADHD--all that English educashun done did it to 'em! :-)
Claire was also seven when she learned to read. Brandon was late four, early five. I am afraid Preston might be twelve, but oh well, all in good time.
Oh, and I hated to even leave a comment after John's! Too funny!
I have to say, John, yes. Just, yes.
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