Once upon a time...
...I was a mom of two, just starting out at homeschooling. My eldest son immediately took to reading almost autonomously before his fifth birthday like a fish takes to swimming. Clearly, this was due to my teaching expertise, I gloated silently in my ridiculous pride.
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And then it was time to begin reading with my second son. The experience could not have been more different, despite using the exact same tools and method. Unlike his older brother, instead of taking to the water with grace and ease, he seemed much more like a kitten that, as a happenstance of sheer curiosity, had fallen into a kiddie pool and was now fighting the water with every ounce of his being. To my shame, I had no idea how to deal with this. I wondered, "Is he even trying? Is this a ploy to break my sanity? Is something wrong with him?" The answer to those questions eluded me for years as we struggled along, sometimes one of us in tears.
But the answer was simple - he wasn't ready. Yes, he was the same age his brother was when he began reading, but he wasn't ready. He could remember anything and everything he heard, but the part of his brain that converts characters into words into sentences into stories was still developing. It took years to get him to read a book, but you know what? He got there. Not because I drilled him with flashcards or made him do worksheets or any other drudgery. My son began reading because he matured and because he fell in love with stories.
