This is the story of Christie (not her real name) whom I worked with early in my SoundEnglish endeavor. Her story is one that should give clarity to parents and teachers that learning to read has less to do with a student's disabilities than with the method of instruction. Christie made me a believer.
In what was most likely about 2004, I had the chance to work with a third-grade little girl who was, for all intents and purposes, reclusive. As the schedule of my groups worked out, she was the only student at that day and time, which turned out to be a blessing for both of us.
I met Christie and her father in October. He took me aside to explain that Christie was third grade, and her teacher had already told him that she would not be going to fourth grade at the end of the school year. He said the reason was that she could only read at a second grade level. He told me that she was painfully shy, and he only hoped that this might help. I told him that I would do my best. I was having great success with my other students, even the four-year-old, and not at all put off by the challenge. When he left, I introduced myself to Christie, and I was stunned at her response.
She was seated in one of the small classroom chairs, and she had pushed it back from the table. Her ankles were crossed, her hands were folded in her lap, and her head was down. When I spoked to her, she not only didn't reply but didn't move a muscle. I got into the chair near her and turned to face her, and I explained that we were going to take a quick quiz to figure out how we should get started. She didn't look up, but she agreed. We did a word list diagnostic, after which, I believed she was closer to middle first grade reading than second grade.
We began working on the first phonics lesson that day. I used the same materials and methods with Christie that I had used with all the other students. It's hard to remember now, but I believe the first few weeks went more slowly, mostly because Christie was always slow to respond. I was usually standing at the board because I had written the letter and sound we were learning. When I asked her to repeat the sound I was making, she was quiet that first day. I tried to be patient with her, "Christie, I'm going to say the sound again, and I want you to repeat it." When she didn't respond, I moved toward slowly and lifted her chin so she was looking at me and asked her one more time to repeat the sound. She did.
Throughout the first few weeks, we got more familiar with each other, and she be came more comfortable. At some point, our sessions became normalized. She was more responsive and seemed interested, but she was always quiet and shy unless prompted, so it was harder to see the progress that was readily visible with more confident students. After about 16 weeks, I arrived at my classroom to find her father waiting outside the door. I will repeat his comments, because I remember it as if it was yesterday:
He said, "I wanted to let you know that Christie was tested for reading, and we got her scores. She's reading at third-grade level, and her teachers have told me that she will absolutely be passed on the fourth grade. And that's not all, she's participating in class, which she's never done before. She's always got a book in her hand. She's making friends for the first time! She's even playing soccer differently; she used to just stand at her position and literally let the ball would bounce off her. She's playing now, just like the rest of the team. I wanted to tell you how grateful we are. Thank you!"
I had a few more sessions with Christie after that, and I realized that the change had happened so slowly that it hadn't really registered. She was smiling more and chatting a bit. Her head was never down, and she looked me in the eye when she spoke. I was elated by her success and mine. My experience with her convinced me that many of students with issues could become readers with patience and the right methodology--that being explicit phonics training.
About five years after my experience with Christie, I happened to be at one of the local middle schools. I was sitting in the hall, waiting for the principal to have time to meet. I was enjoying watching the students moving from place to place, when a particular one caught my eye. I would have known her anywhere. She was probably in eighth grade and a great deal taller. She was walking with a friend, talking quickly, her head bobbing around with lots of expression in her face. And, yes, she had a book in her hand. She is my north star.