Writers want you to grasp their voice and message. Readers reveal meaning from text through codes, and processes just like one discovers answers in Math.
I always felt uneasy with numbers, and certainly never trusted equations with numbers and letters combined. a2+b2=c2 4x – 7 = 3y f (x) ≤ y ≤ g (x)
They have a way of sitting there with a secret, one that can only be discovered if you remember the rules and functions of how they are constructed…..divide by that, balance the sides, “my dear aunt sally”.
I never felt welcomed in that realm, no matter how much I wanted to belong. I could feel my brain working overtime, and in constant guessing mode. I was an interloper looking to the teacher as my guide. Oh, I may go off and do some work on my own, but I remained tentative, and dependent. “Check my work. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Still I persisted. Algebra, Geometry, Calculus, Probability & Statistics…..never felt at home.
I was proud of my C’s or the occasional B, because I knew it was not possible for me to work any harder. Always did my homework, a consistent regular at extra help sessions.
Oh, I wanted it!
I wanted to be a part of that world because society celebrates Math, and Science as intelligence. And I did too. It was a language I wanted to speak, a sphere I wanted to inhabit….mechanical pencils, graph paper, chalkboard filled with coded progressive lines of thought. A raw steel edged beauty.
And me, always on the outside looking in, a barrier between that I could not overcome. My brain could keep from drowning, sometimes. Clearly it was out of its element.
I felt defeated before I even began. All the insecurities, anxiety, frustration of the past rise up at the first letter-number combination or z-axis. My mind swimming with no shore in sight, forced to grasp for a preserver …. forget grasping an answer.
Words.
Now there is something I can trust. Words do not slide around, or twist and turn in my brain. Words are not tentative to me. They do not smugly hold any secrets, rather they invite my brain in…. give it a seat, and put on some tea. I am intrigued by the notion that working with words can feel so different to me than working with numbers.
I am fascinated by the fact that I know some of you could not disagree with me more. Words are the ones that mystify you, riddled with nuances in meaning, a labyrinth of imposters not saying what they mean.
For you numbers, Math…..that is real! Numbers are what they are, and they do not move. I have heard this sentiment expressed with such emphatic belief in its truth, while I listen thinking “numbers – those slippery bastards!”
What is it that causes this divide in perspective? What is happening in a Math Brain, or a Word Brain, that is not happening in the other? That is a puzzle I am not here to solve because I am more interested in the common ground.
Whether a Math Brain in the world of words, or a Word Brain in the world of numbers, the experience leaves us feeling insecure and less-than. We feel the embarrassment of not “being a reader”, or not “being a Math Whiz”. We feel the stigma (although inaccurate) of not being as intelligent as others who do function in the realm we feel excluded from.
I do not know whether I will ever be comfortable in the realm of numbers.
But, this I know for certain:
You can learn to feel at home in the realm of words. You can find a place to go in your head where making meaning of text can be cleared, and populated with methods, processes, and markers that point to meaning. You can learn how writers construct their meaning, and indeed, point it out to you.
How can I be so sure? My assurance comes from a decades long pursuit entailing research, professional development, and lab practice with thousands of high school students that inhabited my classroom year in and year out. That’s thousands of students, thinking, and sharing with me their experience of reading, while practicing the approach I will be sharing with you.
Making reading for meaning accessible became, and still is, my passion, my honed craft.
My teaching experience has been enriched by the progression I see in my students, each year starting over with a new batch, each year being able to predict when the lights will begin to turn on (usually around October).
“Wow! I had no idea there was so much in books!”
“Fitzgerald! He’s the man!”
“Look at that! Mind Blown!” (accompanied by the appropriate hand motions by the ears)
These are not only regular, but expected, occurrences in my class. Also expected are the moments that students surprise me with observations of meaning in the text that I had not seen before, though I have read the text many times, each year right along with the students.
If high school Sophomores can progress from reading avoidance to unique analytical thought, so can you.
So have a seat. I’ll put on a pot of tea.
The Comfortable Reader 
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