The Reading Race

I love books. From my earliest memories I recall snuggling next to my mother while she read from “Charlotte’s Web,” “Little House on the Prairie” and “Pippi Longstocking.” My older sister and I became friends with Sue Barton, Nancy Drew and the Boxcar Children. Our winter evenings were rich with family reading times, and our lazy summer days were filled with library trips and stacks of books all around us. My favorite pastime is still curling up with a good story. However, too much of anything can be, well, too much!

Take last week, for example. The elementary school celebrated “reading week.” Along with a contest to read as many minutes as possible, the school asked every student to sign a “screen-free” pledge for five days. Since our family rarely watches television (or movies), my children all happily signed their pledge and turned it in to their teacher. Then they settled down to read.

The first morning of the contest I heard a noise in the living room at 4:30 a.m. and came out to discover my second grader curled up on the couch reading a book. “Go back to bed!” I demanded, shocked. “I need reading minutes to win the contest,” he replied urgently. His tone told me there was no reasoning with him, so I let him be, even though both he and I were yawning. I tried to picture an exhausted second grader leaving to school four hours later, but what could I say? Reading is good … mostly.

When he came home from school that afternoon (grumpy, of course), I wanted him to take a nap. But instead, his bleary eyes continued to devour his second grade mystery. My fourth grader was no different. All afternoon and evening they both sat on the couches, oblivious to the world around them, reading their hearts out and checking the clock.

I sent them up to bed by 8 p.m. hoping they would get some much-needed rest. But alas, when I wandered upstairs to check on teens at 9 p.m., my young students were also both still awake, burning the midnight oil, reading their hearts out and counting the minutes.

“Enough already!” I said, turning off their lights and going to bed myself. I had been up since 4:30, too.

Each day was no different: a frenzy of reading whenever they had a spare moment — from early morning until late at night. In the ensuing turmoil, other homework was forgotten, the piano was silent, simple chores were a trial and their bikes and balls lay dormant in the garage.

Reading is wonderful, but enough is as good as a feast. We’d sit down to dinner while they read, remind them to wash their dishes between chapters and finally beg them to put down their novels for our daily family scripture study. (“Does this count as reading?” they would ask.)

The youngest children were restless. They could only read for so long before they wanted to play with an older sibling. But the older siblings were busy reading. “I can’t play right now,” they’d say. “Don’t bother me, I’m at the good part!”

By day three I had had it. I was desperate for a quiet moment to make dinner and finish the laundry and needed the tiniest children to stop hanging on me. All good screen-free intentions aside, I daringly opened the corner cupboard and turned on…the TV! In a flash, the preschoolers were mesmerized on the couch, and I was left to finish my work. It was heaven! Everyone sat silently — either buried in a book or glued to the screen.

“This is screen-free week!” my school daughter finally protested, looking up from her book. “We’re not supposed to watch television!” she reminded me, shocked and appalled with my lack of commitment.

In my best mom voice, I explained. “We are usually a screen-free family — every single week, in fact!” I said through gritted teeth. “But today I need everyone to be entertained for one blessed hour.” She sighed and went back to her book. Sometimes moms have to make the hard calls, and in my book, the ox was in the mire.

By Friday morning, our avid bookworms had filled their logs with reading minutes. I watched them go out the door with a thankful sigh and prepared to get back to a normal lifestyle. They both returned that afternoon wearing the victor’s hats they had earned. “I was the first in my class!” “I won!” “Look at the piece of cake I got!” “Congratulations!” I hugged them, happy for more reasons than their success, and then thankfully watched them dig out their forgotten bicycles and go off to play with friends.

Don’t worry. I’m a teacher, a college graduate, a mother and I love books. And, our family is generally “screen-free.” But please, no more “reading weeks” for a while. I can’t take the chaos.