Saturday Special: Mrs. Rigby and The Pleasure of Reading

Everyone ought to have at least one wise and loving teacher who solves a problem, especially if the love of reading is the problem.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

We can lament the declining reading test scores from public schools in the U.S.  We can try the latest, greatest methods for teaching children to read. We all have our experiences learning that essential yet troublesome skill. English readers may even have a particularly difficult time because the language is kludged together from Latin and Teutonic roots with a little Indo-Arabic influence sprinkled on top. One of my literacy learners always asked in a rebellious tone of voice, "Why do they spell is like that?" "Well," I'd pause to find an acceptable answer, " it's English and it's weird."

Phonics was an effective method for thousands of children. Then along came Sight Words and Whole Language, which, according to a recent article by Dr. Dixie Dillon Lane (The Reading Wars and Learning to Read in 2023), taught children how to read but they never enjoyed it. Reading became such an arduous exercise, college students balked at assignments of a couple dozen pages per night whereas 150 pages used to be expected.

With all the information our era produces on many different platforms, reading is essential. One's survival, in fact, depends upon it. The concept of reading for pleasure, though, has almost disappeared except among a scattered few bookworms who love nothing more than snuggling into a cocoon of cheery fireplace, plush blanket, steaming cup of tea in hand, and cat on lap. How does one acquire such joy from plowing through a picture-less page of text, especially if one isn't required to read it?

Dr. Lane touts the return of phonics to teach kids how to decode words and sentences; but then she also describes how children also love to snuggle up next to Mommy or Granny while they read stories or poems from books. The key word here is snuggle.

Her suggestion reminds me of a wonderful teacher I had in fourth grade named Margaret Rigby. She tried an experiment in our class that turned everyone's reading scores toward the plus side. We were all amazed when we read our report cards. And it was far less humiliating than the standard reading group method.

It was so simple, yet would be illegal in today's public schools. Mrs. Rigby set up two chairs in a corner of the room. While the class worked on a grammar exercise, Mrs. Rigby would take aside one student at a time to the reading corner.  For about five minutes, she would have us read to her, draping her arm over the back of the chair. Sometimes her arm touched our shoulders, as we read. It was a comfortable and private time with our teacher, whom we soon realized cared for us very much.

That caring spirit revealed itself very dramatically one day after our class returned from a bi-weekly session with Mrs. Wyler, who led us in singing. That particular day, Mrs. Wyler ignored her piano and instead spewed a tirade about her undisciplined and unmanageable students. She basically shoveled all of us into the same dusty bin of malevolence. By the time we had told Mrs. Rigby, she was sobbing with rage and marched into Mrs. Wyler's room for a reckoning. She was gone for several minutes. We all sat there, numbed by the whole experience, but we learned that day that Mrs. Rigby had our backs. She was our protector and defender. She was our friend.

We never heard anything about the final outcome. The quiet minutes of reading with Mrs. Rigby continued, correcting our individual struggles with words. And Mrs. Wyler never abused us again.

Weekly visits to our spectacular school library further encouraged our love of the book. Come to think of it, I don't know if any other class visited the library as often as we were able to do. It was a magnificent space. Large double doors opened to a wide room at least twice the size of our classrooms. Tall bookshelves lined the walls while sunlight gleamed through huge windows to the east. Long tables and chairs allowed us to sit comfortably while we read any book we wanted for about thirty minutes. It was glorious!

When I saw the pathetic library at my daughter's school, it broke my heart. Short bookshelves carved out a 12 by 12 foot space in a wide hallway. The lighting was dim and there were few chairs. Book selections were meager and devoid of childhood classics. Instead, the school offered the weekly book club where we could buy books from a specific publisher. Berenstain Bears, anyone?

Mrs. Rigby was a teacher for all ages. She was allowed to be creative and earned the respect of her students by modeling good behavior through her own actions rather than angry outbursts. To be fair, in the 1950s and 60s, there usually were only one or two "unruly" students in a class of 32 children. That kid was called the "class clown" and would rarely exhibit violent behavior.

Nevertheless, with the horrors of public schools rampant in today's world, we need to rethink our educational priorities. Shrink the administrations and boost the place of teachers in the hierarchy. Also, return to teaching methods that worked well in the past. Despite their tedious nature, which I've heard from some teachers was a problem for them, discipline and clarity in learning needs to return. Reintroduce homemaking and shop classes for all students to broaden confidence and basic life skills. Music and art enhances cultural diversity as well as showing the human side of history and geography.

When I hear teachers complain they don't have time for storytelling, for example, I wonder how in the world our mid-20th Century public schools managed to include such broad and "expensive" curricula? We put on lavish plays, incorporating our school orchestras, art, shop, and homemaking classes in the production. Science was a daily occurrence, not just some guy wheeling in a cart with an experiment to dazzle the kids.

Mrs. Rigby was not an entertainer. She was an instructor, a mentor, a teacher whose focus was to solve the individual learning problems of her students. No drugs, no gimmicks, no taking students out of class for special education. Just teach the subject clearly and follow up with practice. Lots of practice.

And reward the students with extra time to read whatever they want. It worked years ago. It can work again.

If you enjoyed this essay, feel free to check out the poems, essays, and stories on Ring Around the Basin Archives.