Most people can’t remember how they learned to read. This isn’t unusual. Most of us don’t remember how we learned to do many things: tie a shoe, ride a bike, throw a baseball. But the reason we don’t remember learning how to read speaks to the low state of U.S. literacy.
Namely, it’s tough to teach what you can’t recall.
Why can’t we remember learning to read? Partially because it involves two different memory processes, and partially because human memory is faulty to begin with.
One type of memory process is declarative memory. This is explicit memories of facts, events, processes, memories that can be stated or “declared.” Examples include details of your wedding day, or the specific dates of historical events. It could include step-by-step coding instructions or giving a motorist oral directions.
A second process is procedural memory. This is an implicit memory for skills that are difficult to represent or declare because they are more automatic; we can do them, but we can’t explain how. Examples include things like walking, speaking, doing a cartwheel, dribbling a soccer ball, dunking a basketball, and reading fluently.
We don’t know how to teach reading better because we can’t remember how we were taught to read, or if we had much instruction at all. Moreover, our memories of learning differ, blur. Consequently we’ve stressed procedural memory at the expense of declarative memory in teaching kids to read.
Research-based literacy programs such as those used at Linguistics Edge address the imbalance.
People have a natural assumption that learning to read is like learning to speak. But when examined in the paradigm of memory, it’s clear they are two separate processes. Learning to speak is pure procedural memory. No one explained to you how to generate air from your lungs through your mouth, and how to use your lips and tongue to produce specific sounds with specific meanings.
Learning to read, on the other hand, necessitates a degree of declarative memory. This is exemplified in phonics instruction. Students need to recognize, for instance, that the sound /sh/ is spelled “sh,” and that the vowel team “ea” most often sounds /ee/, and that eash together, therefore, most likely reads eesh (as in leash).
All young learners benefit from using declarative memory. But dyslexic readers – most struggling readers – depend on it. They need to be taught explicitly that the letter “o” typically sounds as in the words on, off, hot, and dog, and that “oo” usually sounds as in the words oops, moon, spoon and pool -- but can sometimes sound differently, as in wood, book, good, and look.
They need to hear and feel the difference between /f/ and /th/, and /k/ and /g/, and /o/ and /oo/. They need to be shown that the letter “c” sounds as /s/ when followed by the letters i, e, and y.
All of this uses declarative memory. Simultaneously, youngsters need to lean into procedural memory to read common sight words such as was, the, of, said, and they that don’t follow phonemic conventions. This is balanced literacy.
Later, as brains rewire and learning becomes more automatic, procedural memory begins to take precedence. Reading starts to become fluid. Misspelled words look wrong. Sight word recognition is quicker and easier. New words are decoded smoothly using a combination of declarative and procedural processes.
Here’s where the catch comes in.
The closer a skill moves toward automaticity, the more we access it via procedural memory. It becomes easier to do than explain how to do. This is why many talented people can perform stupendous artistic, musical, mental, and athletic feats, yet don’t become coaches or teachers because they can’t teach their techniques to others. It’s hard to remember the declarative elements of a fluent skill that’s cemented in procedural memory.
Similarly, once we’ve become fluent readers we stop thinking about how we learned to read (if we ever pondered it at all). We have read words such as from, are, want, there, and great for so long we forget they’re phonetically irregular. We effortlessly parse the difference between the sound of “ow” in show and shower, and the sound of “ie” in pie and piece, and the sound of “s” in rose and house.
But a young learner, using declarative memory, might well be bewildered by the strangeness. Though English is largely consistent and phonemically accurate, enough exceptions exist – especially at the lower levels – to leave the impression it’s hopelessly confusing.
This is the point research becomes so valuable.
A tremendous volume of study and experimentation over the past half century has revealed insights in how our brains process language, and the neurological differences between fluent and struggling readers.
It has helped us break down reading into declarative elements, and led to the creation of programs and systems that show us how to teach those elements.
When I was learning to teach dyslexic readers, one of the first things we did was practice making syllables with colored blocks that stood for sounds. Why? Because research is unanimous: phonemic awareness is foundational to reading prowess. Sounds should precede letters.
Who knew?! I certainly didn’t. I have no clue how I learned to read.
Tapping into declarative memory was an adjustment, one some fellow tutoring trainees couldn’t make. But once your brain has recalibrated, the benefits of structured, multisensory reading instruction become obvious.
The goal of reading and spelling is automaticity. This is the point where you spell the and was and of and from correctly and easily. It’s the point, for older students, that you start writing -tion instead of -shun, and -ture instead of -cher. It’s the point, in other words, that declarative memory becomes procedural.
Public school curriculum has largely stressed reading instruction that favors procedural over declarative memory. The umbrella term for this is the “whole language” approach.
Reading programs under the umbrella of research pioneers Orton-Gillingham, however – including those used by Linguistics Edge – build skills through declarative memory and help transfer them to procedural memory. It’s a balanced approach backed by research into the mechanics of how we actually read.
This methodology has been characterized as “phonics,” because it explicitly teaches letters and sounds, but it’s so much more. The best programs balance phonics with visualization, using a structured approach that blends and strengthens both types of memory. If such programs seem phonics-heavy at first blush, it’s probably because you weren’t taught explicit phonics – or can’t remember if you were.
I’ve come to find out that I learned to read during the whole language era of “Dick and Jane” books. I don’t remember being taught any phonics, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t.
I vaguely remember a series of first-grade books that rhymed down and brown and dark and park, and intuiting I’d stepped up, advanced. It was persuasive memory all the way.
As for spelling, I have even less clue. I suppose I had weekly spelling lists and tests. I strongly doubt, though, that the lists were governed by any type of spelling pattern.
Like the majority of students, I learned to read and spell relatively easily. If sounds and letters and graphemes and morphemes weren’t explained explicitly, I “got them” intuitively.
And like the majority of American adults, I assumed most everyone learned to read just as naturally. Until I signed on to be a reading tutor.
Twenty-five years of learning, teaching, and observing have opened my eyes. Literacy is challenging for more students than we realize (and our national literacy standard is a low bar to clear).
Since we don’t remember how to break down reading into declarative memory, it’s imperative that we honor research that shows us how.
Orton-Gillingham based reading programs, including those at Linguistics Edge, teach literacy using current evidence-based findings from neuroscience. If schools followed suit, we could probably teach 95 percent or more of the nation to read.
We have the knowledge to teach reading more effectively. Do we have the will to apply it? Do you?
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