The Theory

The “Which theory is right?” question is easily answered. The whole-word theory makes a fundamental assumption that is almost certainly wrong.^a Reading is not natural. “Natural” in this sense means that even though the task at hand is complicated, the human nervous system is in some way primed to learn the skill. It’s more or less part of your inheritance as a human being that you will learn this skill, just as a house wren effortlessly learns its song and a lion learns to stalk.

When a skill is “natural,” we expect to observe three things. First, everyone will learn the skill without great difficulty, and typically they will learn it by observation, without the need for overt instruction—after all, we’re primed to learn it. Second, given that it’s part of our inheritance as human beings, we expect that the skill can be observed in all cultures all over the world. Third, the proposal that our nervous system is primed to learn the skill implies that it will likely be evolutionarily old. It’s just not very probable that an evolutionary adaptation would have popped up in the last few thousand years.

These three features—easily learned by everyone, observed in all cultures, and evolutionarily old—are true for some human skills: walking, talking, reaching, and appreciating social interactions, for example. But none of them is true for reading. Most people don’t learn to read through observation alone, and there are peoples in the world without a written language. Finally, writing is not evolutionarily old. It’s a cultural invention that is no more than fifty-five hundred years old.

The Consequences

The second way to address the “Which is right?” question is to examine experiments that have compared how well kids learn to read when instructed using phonics or instructed when using whole-word methods. There have been a great many such experiments, going back nearly a hundred years. Whenever there is a large volume of research, there is some opportunity for picking and choosing studies that support your position, and the debates about how to summarize this research literature have been hotly contested.

The governments of three English-speaking countries (the United States, Britain, and Australia) as well as the European Union countries all came up with the same strategy to resolve the question: blue-ribbon panels of scientists were appointed to sort through the data and write a report. All four panels came to the same conclusion: it’s important to teach phonics, and to teach it in a planned, systematic way, not on an as-needed basis. Similar conclusions have been drawn by panels assembled by US scientific organizations.

Although all these reports were in agreement that phonics instruction is important, it’s not as though kids taught using whole-word methods don’t learn to read. In fact, if you compare their reading achievement to that of kids taught using phonics, there’s a lot of overlap (figure 5.3). The advantage conferred by using phonics instead of the whole-word method is moderate, not huge.

There’s a little more to the story. The average advantage to using phonics instruction is moderate, but it’s not the case that each and every child does a little better with phonics than he or she would have done with whole-word instruction. The importance of phonics instruction varies depending on what the child knows when reading instruction begins. Phonics instruction is less important for kids who, when they start school, have good phonological awareness and understand that letters stand for sounds. They are likely to figure out the code with just a little support. But for kids who lack that knowledge, phonics instruction is likely to be very important.

Phonics instruction has come to be seen as nonnegotiable. But even if the whole-word approach to learning to decode is flawed, the emphasis on children’s literature has always seemed like a good idea to educators, and research evidence for that view accumulated through the 1980s and 1990s. It became the consensus conclusion in the late 1990s, and so was born “balanced literacy,” the type of reading instruction that your child will very likely experience.

Balanced Literacy

This position holds that phonics advocates were right: phonics instruction is essential. But whole-word advocates were right too: immersing children in authentic literacy activities is also crucial. And so balanced literacy was offered as a resolution to the conflict that had raged between the two approaches. Advocates also offered another allurement: they suggested that the balance might differ for different children. Thus, the theory seemed flexible, sensitive to variation among kids.

Balanced literacy suggests that phonics be taught, but in the context of an array of activities, especially ones that offer authentic literacy experiences (as opposed to, for example, completing a worksheet). The following list of K–2 activities comes from a handbook for teachers published by the New York City Department of Education. The full list includes ten other activities (for a total of sixteen), some of which would be familiar to you: teacher read-alouds, for example, and work on phonological awareness:

So what does the research say? Does balanced literacy work? The quick-and-dirty answer is, “It should.” We know that the pieces—phonics instruction and children’s literature—work. But giving a firmer research-based answer will have to wait, for two reasons. First, balanced literacy programs are relatively new. We know that reading success is influenced by many factors, so it’s hard to draw firm conclusions from individual experiments. Second, there is a lot of variation in what actually happens in a balanced literacy program. Programs vary, and kids’ experiences within a program vary. Indeed, a recent survey showed that American teachers largely agreed with the tenets of balanced literacy, but there was a lot of variation in what happened in their classrooms. And increasing evidence confirms what is likely your intuition: different kids learn better from different activities, depending on the strengths and interests they bring to the classroom.

Classroom Activities

We are not completely in the dark as to which activities are more likely to help kids. I offer four principles from cognitive psychology that, until we have firmer research about what works, would be prudent to bear in mind as we think about classroom activities:

1. Don’t forget phonics. The point of balanced literacy is “phonics plus rich literacy experiences.” If phonics instruction is one of sixteen possible activities, you do want to guard against the possibility that they are viewed as all being equally important. Some researchers have noted that planning manuals for some balanced literacy programs allot scant time to phonics instruction and don’t even list the teaching of the alphabetic principle as a goal. If the English language arts block is between 90 and 120 minutes (typical for early elementary years), I’d hope to see 20 or 25 percent devoted to phonics (i.e., twenty to thirty minutes). Naturally, this doesn’t mean that all of that time must be direct instruction or quizzing. A variety of activities could provide phonics practice. But again, when kids are practicing phonics, that practice should be focused.
2. Students can focus on only one new thing at a time. Some literacy activities seem to demand that kids do two things at once. For example, when the teacher is composing text and thinking aloud as she does so, she’s both modeling the writing process and giving the students an implicit phonics lesson. But we know from other research that kids (and adults) can’t focus on two things at a time—especially two ideas that are pretty challenging. Lessons that focus on one thing at a time are more likely to be successful.
3. You learn more from doing than watching. As the Bateke proverb says, “You learn how to cut down trees cutting them down.” When you’re told to watch someone, it’s easy to let your mind wander and think something else. Hence, I’m not keen on activities like shared reading, in which the students follow along while someone else reads.
4. Feedback matters. Corrected errors contribute to learning. Uncorrected errors do not and may contribute to an error-laden habit. Sometimes we can catch our own mistakes, but we are less likely to do so if we are less skillful. The pro knows what she did wrong; the novice does not. Hence, when children are learning to decode, silent reading is not going to be nearly as helpful as reading aloud.

Sometimes an activity is useful for purposes other than pure literacy. A first-grade teacher told me that she used the shared writing technique for about four months with a student who simply froze when asked to write anything. She wisely saw that a bit of support from her would get him past his fear. So these techniques can be put to good use. But for the typical student learning to decode, I’d hope to see (1) learning letter-sound combinations in order of frequency, (2) memorizing a small set of very common irregular words (e.g., “the,” “and,” “when”) as sight words, (3) reading aloud, with feedback, (4) writing, and (5) lots of work with children’s literature.

Going Digital

I’ve noted that children vary in how quickly they benefit from phonics instruction and therefore will vary in how much of it they need. Thus, we’d really like the ability to fine-tune it: if a child understands quickly, you want to move him along to more interesting stuff, but if he doesn’t, he can get the instruction he needs. That sort of individualized instruction is what most teachers strive for, but it sounds hard to pull off, and it is.

Digital technologies are supposed to make this personalization possible. A computer application might titrate instruction to the child’s performance. Animation and sound could put some pizzazz into important but not intrinsically interesting material, and voice recognition technology offers the promise of evaluating student responses. You can’t do any of that with a worksheet, and a teacher can’t do it with a whole class simultaneously.

Scores of studies have examined the impact of educational technology on reading achievement, and several research reviews have pulled this work together. Researchers have concluded that technology has a modest positive effect on reading outcomes. “Modest” means technology interventions, on average, would move a student at the 50 percentile of reading up to perhaps the 55th or 65th percentile (the estimates vary).

With all the power we attribute to technology, that seems like a pretty wimpy effect. But the modest impact is actually typical for educational technology interventions, no matter what the subject: math, science, or history. More disturbing is a point made by researcher John Hattie: when you try anything new in the classroom, you see, on average, this sort of modest boost to student learning. Why? It’s not clear. (My guess is that the excitement of trying something new makes teachers enthusiastic, and that excitement rubs off on students.) The conclusion I’m emphasizing is that educational technology interventions in general (and those targeting reading in particular) have been less successful than we would have expected.

You might protest that the question, “Does technology improve reading achievement?” is a dumb one. Surely technology applications vary in quality. I think that point is exactly right. It was possible that the advantages of digital technology were so powerful that virtually any tool you developed would be pretty good. In fact, you still hear people talk this way. They point out (as I just did) that technology enables self-paced learning, that it enables the integration of other media like sound and video, that it enables individualized feedback. These advantages are displayed on the table, so to speak, and we are invited to take it as self-evident that technology will be a boon.

But of course those features must be implemented well. Embedded video may distract rather than intrigue, or the algorithm meant to adapt to a student’s reading level may be faulty. And if we’re just making a case based on what sounds plausible, we should note that teaching reading with technology also has plausible-sounding drawbacks. Technology does not capitalize on the student’s relationship with the teacher, a factor known to be important in early reading. In addition, broken or lost devices, software glitches, and compatibility problems are frequent headaches in many tech-heavy environments (figure 5.4).

We have learned one thing: technology alone doesn’t do much. Researchers must move on to the job of sorting out when software helps, hinders, or has no effect on reading achievement. They must also sort out the likely complex interactions among these features. That will be no small job.

The current bland conclusion is that some tech products meant to teach reading are good, some are bad, and some are in between—obvious, of course—but at least we know that we shouldn’t make a panicky decision to buy a reading program merely out of fear that we will be left behind the times. I know a decision made on that basis sounds foolish, but ask around and you’ll meet plenty of teachers who will tell you that their school or district has made technology purchasing decisions on just that basis: “We don’t want our kids to be left behind.”

Choosing the Right Book

The right book depends on your child’s reading level, of course. Ideally, you’d like reading materials that include only letter-sound combinations he already knows. As he learns new letter-sound combinations, the books he reads include those as well. This is another reason it pays to use a phonics program that teaches letter-sound pairings in order of frequency. There are book sets (e.g., The Bob Books) that respect this order, so your child sees only words that he ought to be able to read. Your best bet is to ask your child’s teacher for recommendations because she knows how far your child has progressed.

Lots of children have a favorite book that they want to read again and again. Often it’s one they have listened to so many times that they have memorized it, and so when they “read” it to you, you can tell they are pretty much reciting. It’s not that they are dodging the harder work of decoding. Rather, they are enjoying a glimpse of what it’s like to truly read, and that’s a powerful motivator. So about half the time my youngest asked, I’d listen to her “read” Go Dog, Go (mercifully, the short version), and half the time I’d say, “Oh, I love that one too. But you read me that one yesterday. Let’s pick another book today.”

Shoot for at least one session each day, and make it brief—no more than five or ten minutes. That may not sound like much, but short bouts of practice can really pay off if they occur regularly. A little frustration during these sessions is normal, but if your child is having a bad day, just say something like, “That was great, but do you think maybe we’re done?” (figure 5.5). Don’t feel that you have to finish a book you’ve started. Of course, if he asks to keep reading, you should continue. But decoding is demanding when you are first learning, and the idea is that this process be fun. Finish the session by smiling and saying, “Thanks! I’m already looking forward to next time” or something similarly upbeat.

Providing Feedback

Feedback is an important part of any learning process, and that’s what you’re there for. At the same time, feedback can be distracting. So I suggest you talk as little as possible. The child needs to hear her own voice, not yours. You want to cheer her on and acknowledge when she’s doing well—do that by smiling and nodding, not by saying, “Awesome!” or “Right!” For the same reason, don’t initiate conversations about the story. That’s just the opposite of what you do when you’re reading aloud. Learning to decode is occupying all of your child’s attention, and she can’t think about two things at once. Switching back and forth between decoding and meaning is not going to help. But of course, you should (briefly) answer questions your child asks and acknowledge comments she makes.

If your child gets stuck on a word, don’t be too quick to tell her what it is. (Likewise, when she’s writing and asks how a word is spelled, she should make her best guess before you provide support.) And don’t suggest that she guess what word makes sense. You’re practicing decoding. In fact, most kids do a lot of guessing without your suggesting it because it’s a strategy that has worked fairly well with very simple books. You’re working toward the more general skill that will carry her through the complicated stuff. So when your child guesses, just smile and say, “Sound it out,” even if she has guessed right.

Cover part of the word so all she can see is the part that’s giving her trouble. If she’s totally stumped, cover all but the initial letter (or two-letter combination, as appropriate). If she still needs help, remind her of the relevant rule: “Right. That letter usually says AW, but when there are two together, they say something else.” The same strategies apply if your child reads a word incorrectly. Don’t just blurt out a correction. Say “oops” or something else brief, and point to the missed word. See if she gets it. If not, offer support (figure 5.6).

Sometimes kids make a lot of mistakes because they try to read faster than they are really able. Other times they read excruciatingly slowly in an effort to avoid all mistakes. As in any other mental activity, speed and accuracy can be traded. There’s no reason not to encourage your child to speed up or slow down a bit. Again, this can be done mostly with gentle gesture and minimal talking.

Dealing with Frustration

You’ll note that I keep mentioning that you should smile, you should be upbeat, and so on. For me (and for many other parents I’ve spoken with), there were moments when listening to my kids read was the kind of sweet, parent-child activity I had imagined. And though I foresaw the moments that my child would be frustrated, I didn’t foresee that I would be. My child would stop to comment on complete irrelevancies. I would suggest five times that she read faster, and she would ignore me. I would remind her of the sound “ou” makes, and she would forget on the very next word. There are going to be frustrating moments, but it’s essential that you don’t show that it’s getting to you. If the interaction is negative, that emotion may rub off on reading, but even if it doesn’t, it’s going to make your child reluctant to partner with you for reading.

I can offer four suggestions if you find yourself frustrated. First, the habit of not talking much is not only good for your child (so she hears mostly her own voice, reading) but also good for maintaining your composure when you’re frustrated. Second, when you do speak, you can usually find an intonation other than frustration that carries your message in a positive way. When my youngest would look to me for help on the same word three times in sixty seconds, my inclination was to shout, “You KNOW this one.” I trained myself to say, “You know this one,” with the intonation of, “You sly dog.” I probably should have said nothing, but at least I used a positive tone. Third, remind yourself that the whole session is only five or ten minutes. Fourth, if you find that you just can’t keep it together, quit. Ask your child to read with you later. Grinding through the process gives a little practice in decoding, but it carries too high a cost in motivation.