A Dad Grows Up

inally! Something I feel so qualified to write about: how to share books with your children. I’m touting my credentials because this is something I’ve learned from raising two children who were born thirteen years apart.

One of the pitfalls of being either a creator or a distributor involved in the world of books — and I include in this group teachers, librarians, employees of publishers, parents, and authors — is that regardless of how dearly we may love reading, our children, much to our horror and even embarrassment, often cannot see what the attraction is. You might say they “just ain’t feeling it.”

I’ve been autographing books long enough now to recognize the teacher or librarian similarly afflicted before she even opens her mouth. She’ll sheepishly sidle up to the signing table with her book already opened to the title page and with the Post-it note filled in with exquisite, bold handwriting — both strategies designed to get in and out as quickly as possible. She’ll cut her eyes to the side, making certain her peers standing behind her are out of hearing range, and whisper, “Uh, this is for my son, he’s not much of a reader, could you say something to encourage him?” I understand. I too have had children who definitely weren’t feeling it. This is a real problem because I know how powerful, entertaining, and uplifting reading can be.

My first-born, Steven, was without doubt a victim of parental micromanagement. Once it became clear that he was not enamored of reading, my strategy became to force-feed him. Looking back, I can’t believe I repeated the same mistakes my father made with me, but I did. (I recall as a boy being forced to read a book about Abraham Lincoln and write a report on it. I started my essay with the line, “Abraham Lincoln was born a poor man in a log cabin . . .” which led my dad to say to my mom, “That must’ve been quite painful for his mother!”) Somehow my son overcame my zeal and became an excellent reader who loves books. (I say “somehow,” but I’m well aware that a lot of it had to do with professional educators.)

When, thirteen years later, Cydney made her first appearance, things had changed. I’d become more relaxed. I realized that even though she might not be drawn to the books I wanted her to read, she was nonetheless reading. And that was good. Between school and my wife’s monthly mother-daughter book club, I knew Cydney was being exposed to a wide variety of opinions and values from which she, with the guidance of her parents and teachers, would hopefully draw the same conclusions about life that I have. And if she doesn’t? Oh, well. That’s one of the beauties of reading: it helps our children develop their own independent minds, and isn’t that the goal?

Christopher Paul Curtis’s most recent novel is the Newbery Honor Book and Coretta Scott King Author Award–winner Elijah of Buxton (Scholastic).

From the May/June 2008 issue of The Horn Book Magazine