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Reading in the Wild by Anne Ursu
A year ago, my little boy learned to read.
He’d been staring at books in his room at night all summer—way past when any respectable mother of a five-year-old would have declared lights out. I thought he was studying the pictures, and I figured any time spent with books was good. I had no idea he was actually reading them until one day he pointed at a road sign and exclaimed, “Bump!”
I loved watching him with books; I’d wanted him to be a reader so badly because I’d had such an intense relationship with books growing up. I was a shy, sensitive little kid, and as I got older, I was more and more bewildered by the vagaries of interpersonal relationships—but I was always at home in the pages of a book. I read everything, all the time—my mom says on Friday afternoons I would disappear into my room with a stack of library books and come out Monday morning with them all read. I’d read by lamplight well into the night and fall asleep on my book. How could I tell him to turn off the light when I never did?
Last year during the school’s read-a-thon I went all reality-show stage-mom, and to my great satisfaction, he won kindergarten and got to stand in front of the whole school and get applauded. A nice change for a boy who, when he gets praise at school, it’s for keeping his hands to himself.
From the time Dash was two, it was obvious he was different, somehow, from the other kids. He just seemed more hyper, more impulsive, more everything. Every time we had a playdate or went to a party, he’d bite someone. When he started preschool the problems got worse, and he just couldn’t function in a classroom. One day I was called to pick him up at Preschool #3 for biting, and when I walked into the principal’s office she was working on her computer saying “Do you know why you bit? Do you know why you bit?” while he writhed on a chair.
Eventually, Dash’s problems were given a name—Aspergers. The tragedy for him is that he adores other kids, but he doesn’t know how to be around them, so he gets anxious and overstimulated and lashes out. He comes home, pupils huge, and sometimes he can’t do anything but run around in circles.
He is a little boy in a big world. His parents split up when he was three—old enough to remember them together, but way too young to understand. His mom can be impatient, tired, busy, sad. Kids are a mystery to him. Everyone around him speaks a language he doesn’t quite understand, and people’s faces move in the most bewildering ways. He tries so hard to figure out how to interact, but the rules are innumerable and indecipherable.
Sometimes, the world itself attacks him with loud noises and bright lights and rushes of motions and too much to look at. It hurts him to see a crying child, a sick animal. He insists that there are no bad guys in the real world, and someday he’ll learn he’s wrong.
This is where my heart breaks. There’s something about the idea of growing up that’s always made me acutely sad, and I’ve never understood where that came from; I was not a kid that wanted to stay a child forever. But I was pathologically sensitive, I couldn’t handle the idea of anything bad happening to anyone, ever, and when you’re a young child you’re allowed to believe that the world is safe and good and nobody ever suffers. I don’t think I could bear realizing that that wasn’t true.
I loved books, desperately, but when I started this essay I realized that I also needed them. While I was hiding out, reading, the books were gently teaching me about the bewildering world, and helping me figure out how to live in it. And they’ll do this for Dash. Books tell us that sometimes kids feel alone, sometimes they feel different, sometimes they are scared, sometimes they are sad. Books put names on big feelings, and then make them familiar and okay. And they tell you you are not alone in feeling them.
My child is a reader. I feed him books and he devours them. He sits up late reading, and I don’t stop him. He’s so peaceful when he’s reading; everything else disappears—there is just the assured comfort of narrative, the feel of the pages, the music of the words. Books are a pocket he tucks himself into. I wanted him to be a reader so we could have something to share, but now I realize how much more there is to it than that. And maybe I can tell him that the world was hard for me, too, and that I was so glad to have books as my friends, and that they will help us both make sense of things, and that we are in this together. For now, we’ll both sit up way too late together with a book and a lamp, ignoring the encroaching darkness.
Anne Ursu grew up on Maud Hart Lovelace, L.M. Montgomery, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Judy Blume, Lois Duncan, Betsy Byers, and Madeline L’Engle, and she’s currently reading The Lord of Opium by Nancy Farmer. Dash is obsessed with Dragonbreath, Bone, Warriors, manga, and Ricky Ricotta, and is currently reading Frankie Pickle. Anne teaches at Hamline University’s MFA in Writing for Children and lives in Minneapolis with her son, a lot of books, three cats, and a pile of unopened mail. She is the author of Breadcrumbs (published in 2011) and The Real Boy, which releases today, September 24th.
Lovely.
I’m so glad for the both of you that he has found books, and I hope they keep on being source of comfort!
This made me cry. What a beautiful essay. I’m going to enjoy my day at school with 5th/6th graders, and then I am going to tear out of that parking lot (well, not really – I’ll be responsible) to my local bookstore and buy The Real Boy. I’ve been WAITING for this day!
This book met every one of my passions as a reader, Anne. It is beautiful, and I know it will leave an imprint on the hearts of my students.
I was one of those “reluctant to leave childhood” kids myself. I remember bawling when the older Pevinsie children were told they couldn’t return to Narnia.
This is beautiful. Just…beautiful.
Thank you, Anne. We need more stories like this. Reading lives are highly individualized. Those of us who nurture students as readers are helped immensely when parents partner with us to provide insights into how reading happens with their kids in their homes.
Lovely and very moving. Thank you so much for sharing.
A heartfelt, loving, motherly post. Man, I love my kids. My 4-year-old falls asleep on her books, and I can’t bring myself to tell her to turn off the light either. Books are a comfort and a wonder to both of us, too. Thanks, Anne.
Wow. Anne. This post – I don’t have words, I read it and then sat completely motionless and wept. Sadly, happily and seriously. Thank goodness this big world is full of books for boys like yours who need them in the most important of ways. I have a little boy in my class that has a myriad of issues and a special education designation. He doesn’t connect well with new adults and many people blame him for this instead of realizing it isn’t a personal thing. It is how he keeps himself safe. This child sits in my room all day and reads. He does some of the other work -enough for me to know that he knows what’s going on but mostly he reads. And I would go to the ends of the earth and back to find books for this child because seeing him lost in a book and having him talk about books with me is one of the biggest joys I have. Thank you Anne for being able to tell stories in the beautiful way that you do. I love your fiction but I think I just found my favourite piece of your writing.
Looking forward to reading The Real Boy. And thank you, Anne, for sharing the personal and tender stories of both your and Dash’s connections with books. All kids need and deserve three things: health-full meals, unconditional love, and piles of books.
Beautiful and tender and hopeful and right–and the things a person needs to keep going! Thank you, Anne!
All of the above and then some. He seems to have everything he needs to do well.
This made me cry. I was you when I was a kid…we moved 9 times before 10th grade and I was always the weird new kid. I survived by reading constantly. I now have 3 kids who love reading and 1 kid, who has Aspergers, who hates it. I ache for her because not only does she not have people friends, she doesn’t even have book friends. Well written piece and blessings to you.
No wonder I loved The Real Boy so much; it’s because the emotions behind the story are so strong and so filled with hope and strength. Here’s to all of us who need our books as much as we love them, and may we always be able to share them with the children we meet who need them as much as we do.
So lovely to see him loving books and reading. I have many students like Dash and love finding them books they will enjoy. Thanks for sharing your story!
Anne, It’s a loving piece about and perhaps later, for, your son. Too much is made of the ‘usual’ expectations, & time to allow children to be themselves. Thank you for writing a pieces about him!
Thank you for this beautiful post. I have been waiting anxiously for the release of your new book. Your writing shines so clearly and truly. Thank you.
This is so beautiful and moving. Thank you for sharing. Your son is lucky that he can find comfort, peace, and connection in reading. As we’re you. I’ve printed this out and hung it on my wall.
this post is beautiful and so true. Books helped me survive and then thrive as a very awkward kid. Looking forward to reading The Real Boy.
Reblogged this on carla cloninger and commented:
Anne Ursu very eloquently expresses the value of books for kids.
Beautiful.
To me, there is nothing more exciting than helping get a child excited about a book and about reading.
Tonight, I met a man who told me he has read one book in his life. It was a strange sounding story about someone hunting seals in the arctic. I asked him why he had read that book and he said that someone gave it to him so he read it – but that was the only book he has ever read.
I asked him why he never read any others. He said he just has a hard time staying focused.
It made me sad. I can’t imagine a life without books. There are so many reasons that people don’t read though. I wish I could help break the barriers for them.
I loved this article! It so reminded me of my son. Who has high-functioning autism. Who has such a hard time with social interactions, especially the new challenge this year of Junior High. And who loves, loves, loves to read. He has enjoyed many of the same titles as your son! Thank goodness they can find comfort and escape in books! =)
Thank you.
Ari, Mom of 2 Aspies who also use books as their refuge from the parts of the world they don’t understand
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Describes my 14 year old with HFA. And me (I read into the night with the light on the electric blanket. He has a flashlight). As a matter of fact, he dressed as Dash Incredible for kindergarten book character day! Beautiful, thank you! He still devours books 🙂
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