It was on Morning Edition, seven years ago—a cheery little piece on how we now know just how to teach students with dyslexia how to read. Interesting, I thought then, expecting to hear about some new breakthrough technique in reading pedagogy. Instead, what I heard was this:
Dyslexia is the most common learning disability, affecting tens of millions of people in the United States. But getting help for children who have it in public school can be a nightmare. “They wouldn’t acknowledge that he had a problem. They wouldn’t say the word ‘dyslexia.’’’
Wow. Not true in my school. We talked about dyslexia and reading instruction endlessly, being very careful not to throw around the label (which impacts 3% to 7% of students, depending on how the condition is defined) indiscriminately. I found it hard to believe that parents who sought help for a genuinely dyslexic child would find the process ‘nightmarish.’
I spent most of my career in one school district, but teachers there expended a great deal of effort and analysis in teaching kids to read and reinforcing ‘reading across the curriculum’ in upper grades. Over three decades, and via my own children’s reading instruction there, I saw several reading programs come and go. I was part of countless conversations about how to incorporate new pedagogical thinking into practice. But–teachers refusing to identify the issues with a student who struggled to read? Never.
Turns out, the Morning Edition piece (in 2018, remember) wasn’t really about a new, proven strategy for helping kids with reading disabilities. The program was fanning new flames of the always-politicized Reading Wars:
Research shows that they learn to read better when they are explicitly taught the ways that sounds and letters correspond. And research shows that even students without dyslexia learn better this way. “I have started to call it not dyslexia but dysteachia. It’s the teachers who are not giving the right kind of instruction!”
Aha! Kids can’t read? It’s the teachers’ fault. Again.
The Reading Wars (which have been going on for over 100 years) tore local school boards apart in the 1990s, in an effort to determine which reading program was “the best.” Many of these bitter arguments were framed as “Phonics” vs. “Whole Language,” but anyone who’s studied the acquisition of literacy knows that’s a simplification so gross as to be useless. Reading instruction is never binary, or limited to right vs. wrong strategies.
The National Reading Panel, convened by a government department with an agenda, put forth a major report, designed to settle the question, once and for all—but the lone practitioner on the panel strongly disagreed with the methodology and policy implications that rolled out, post-report—if not with the actual findings. So, hardly a consensus among teachers.
Then the heavy hand of accountability pushed the discussion—the professional work of reading teachers—out of the classroom, and into whatever place it is that reading programs are measured by their efficacy in raising test scores. And possibly forcing children to repeat the third grade.
I am sincerely happy to know that students correctly identified with dyslexia, a complex, multi-layered diagnosis, seem to be more successful in learning to read, using a phonemic awareness/phonics-intensive program. Still, I am putting my faith, as always, in the discernment and expertise of the teacher.
Students classified as dyslexic have varying strengths and challenges and teaching them is too complex a task for a scripted, one-size-fits-all program. Optimal instruction—meaning the most effective methods for students with disabilities as well as those already reading fluently and making meaning–calls for teachers’ professional expertise and responsiveness, a full tool bag and the freedom to act on the basis of that professionalism.
It’s worth mentioning—again—that formal reading instruction in Finland does not begin until students are seven years of age, long after some children in the United States have been identified as dyslexic or learning disabled, because they’re unable to decode at age six.
Seven years ago, the author of the Morning Edition piece, Emily Hanford, claimed that the superiority of phonics/phonemic awareness instruction for all children—and the failure of whole language programs—was settled science, ‘like climate change.’
I certainly hope there’s never a rigid, unchanging agreement on the One Best Way to teach people of any age to read. All scholarly disciplines should undergo regular re-assessment, as research reshapes knowledge. There are still classrooms in the United States, after all, where evolution is not settled science.
I dug some of this information out from a piece I wrote in March of 2018 for Education Week, because yesterday, for the first time, I had an unpleasant skirmish on Bluesky.
I had posted a comment re: the just-released, drooping NAEP reading scores which are now being dissected in the media. There’s a lot of alarmism and pearl-clutching in the mainstream media, but here’s a pretty good piece from NPR. (The piece also reminds readers that “proficient” doesn’t mean adequate or even OK—it means considerably above average.)
While 4th and 8th grade reading scores overall are still below pre-pandemic levels, it’s worth remembering that this year’s fourth graders were in kindergarten when the pandemic hit, and many spent much of first grade, prime learn-to-read time, learning remotely. Fourth graders in the tested NAEP group did not experience typical reading instruction.
Scores for advantaged students—the top of the heap, economically—were actually strong; scores for the poorest quadrant were dismal. Nothing new, but that gap was much bigger in this round of testing. That is actually useful information. We should be putting more resources into the public schools that serve disadvantaged students (not vouchers to subsidize wealthy families choosing private or religious schools).
I thought about how the ‘settled science” of learning to read has become the “Science of Reading”—and how, over the past seven years, since I first heard that piece on Morning Edition, kids who were first learning to read then (and are now 8th graders) have not moved up the testing ladder, even though over 40 states now have laws or policies based on the so-called Science of Reading.
If SOR was the one best way, why haven’t scores been creeping up? It was a simple, non-hostile question.
Which drew a very hostile response from a Bluesky account that appears to be an online tutoring service with one of those improbably aspirational—think Rocket Reader!!–names. He or she refused to give his/her name, and the exchange (wherein I kept asking for research supporting his/her claims) got increasingly antagonistic.
S/he kept returning to how old and out of touch I am, and insulting not only me, but other researchers and opinion writers with far more credibility than I on the topic of learning to read. His/her final comment (before I blocked him/her) was “Go live in the nursing home with Lucy Calkins!”
Here’s the thing, though. Having seen reading instruction up close and personal—as a professional, not a student—over decades, it’s very clear that it will never be settled (or, probably, science). It’s complex and variable and entirely dependent on what students bring to the table.
Teacher in a strange land 
My “progressive” school district finally succumbed to the science of reading crowd. I don’t know how rigidly the teachers are expected to follow their new boxed program. If my kids had been forced to adhere to a rigid phonics program, I shudder to think whether they would be the lifelong readers they are now. I even taught a direct instruction program in high school, but the authors, college professors, made it clear that the teacher was expected to mold the program elements to the needs of the students. Not so much the publishers when they presented to the administrators, who, of course, had never taught reading. Wouldn’t you know it would be an online tutoring program who would tell you how it should be done.
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Hey– I am always open to substantive (meaning supported by credible sources) discussion about any education topic. There is no one right way to teach anything (including my bailiwick, music– which often becomes rehearse-rehearse-perform rather than digging into the absolute wonderfulness of music– but I digress).
Mostly, I was surprised at the tone of the discussion on Bluesky. I’ve engaged in several back-forth conversations there with people who disagree on various topics, including SOR. If someone is using an SOR program successfully, more power to ’em– it makes me think they were skillful and perceptive already, before encountering (and adapting) a scripted program.
Mr./Ms. Snotty on Bluesky, however, insisted that SOR “got traction” in 2022, so the 4th graders whose scores were so dismal hadn’t even been introduced to correct instruction, only the utterly useless teaching that came before. It triggered something in me– remembering that I had written about Hanford and her quest to remake reading instruction back in 2018, when those kids were preschoolers. After that, he turned to some mild doxing and insulting me. (Oops. I said he.)
My own governor, the estimable Gretchen Whitmer, was recently proud to let the press know that the MI Dept of Ed was promoting the so-called SOR. It’s certainly a catchy phrase– what’s not to like about something settled and scientific? Especially if you haven’t ever used it in your professional work…
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In Virginia, our NAEP reading scores took a nosedive BEFORE the pandemic and set off a panic. Our current governor (Youngkin-Republican-School Choice Champ) has neglected to mention this in his statement indicating that this year’s NAEP scores “validate” our state scores (which are similarly dismal). So that’s a great reason to continue to teach harder and faster folks!My theory on the pre-pandemic dip, released in January 2020, include three factors: experienced teachers fleeing the profession (I can’t find data for our state but national data shows numbers rising around 2010 and continuing to accelerate), continual test-prep that focuses on brief passages and teacher-directed questioning (because you don’t have any experience and you think a good test score means you did a good job), and the dissemination of screen-based, relentlessly entertaining devices to all the kids.Our Virginia Literacy Act is in full swing and I have a ringside seat. Packaged and scripted. Those who know better are crying in their rooms and suffering when the pacing doesn’t match their students’ needs. Everybody goes through the program even if you can already read–like my second grade grandson. But, hey!, he knows what a blend is. Third graders in my district must complete 40 assessments in ELA–that doesn’t count the math assessments–and thats if you are on track. God help you if you need remediation because the assessments come at double-time. English learner? Even more. Reminder, there are only 36 weeks in school. I counted a potential 70 assessments if you are “at-risk.”After spending time following sixth graders through their day (4 kids over three days each) I know why the 8th graders can’t read. NO READING! NO WRITING! But plenty of fun! and engaging! Kahoot multiple choice games that look a whole lot like something you might see on a test. -Mary Tedrow
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I know why the 8th graders can’t read. NO READING! NO WRITING!
Bingo. Just testing, and discrete skill-bites.
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Sitting here CHEERING! So tired of this argument. There is no ONE way to teach kids to read! That’s why we need resources in first grade, not pre-k, to build those pre-reading skills, and, as you said, resources and supports in those schools who educate our most needy students! I started teaching in the 60s…it’s been a constant wrangle between dedicated educators who, I believe, truly care. Appreciate this piece.
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Thanks, Claudia. I usually steer clear of the reading wars, although I have strong opinions on the forces that think they know the One Best Way. What also bothers me is the idea that a deeply experienced teacher– one who’s taught hundreds of students to read– is ready to be put out to pasture. Of course, the whole country has stopped valuing expertise.
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Nancy, are students in charters, private (voucher) schools, or homeschoolers included in the NAEP scores?
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According to their website: NAEP assessments are administered to students in public, private, and charter schools at grades 4, 8, and 12.
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So, perhaps scores have dropped because so many students are no longer taught by certified teachers? Thinking of the fly-by-night voucher schools in strip malls in Florida, where few, if any facilitators (I wouldn’t call them teachers), have course work in the pedagogy of reading. But they do know how to turn on a computer screen with Khan Academy.
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Every time someone posted a piece or commentary about the NAEP scores, I responded with this question: To what do you attribute declining scores? (Because the scores are not precipitously dropping, just bending downward. Many analysts merely note that the scores have not returned to 2019, pre-pandemic levels.)
People whose work and opinion I trust mention many things, not a single overriding cause, from changing demographics, which kids are tested (because it’s not all of them), variables from state to state, chosen curricula, etc. But almost all of them note that the residual effects of a pandemic that really isn’t over are a, if not the, primary cause. COVID disrupted public education, and all the “cures” attempted to bring those scores up (a foolish goal) aren’t enough. Kids were damaged, families were damaged, the normal flow of instruction damaged.
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Interesting perspective! I’m glad I stumbled upon this post while researching the idea of reading as ‘settled science.’ While I can understand the excitement around the Science of Reading, I really appreciate the reminder to pause and reflect on who this is truly about—our students. Thanks for the thought-provoking insights!
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