How many people can remember the first time they learned to read?

I remember it, as if it were yesterday. In Jamaica, most parents felt that reading was the gateway to achieving your goals and dreams. If you think about it, every subject in school is based on reading and comprehension.

A student who aces reading is usually guaranteed good grades in other subjects. Reading gives one the ability to understand information and apply it as needed. Once you are able to read and memorize data, the rest of your academics should be simple.

My Granny understood the importance of reading. Since I spent most of my formative years around my Grandmother, it was natural that the first book I learned to read was the Bible.

Granny would read a verse and then let me try to read with her also. For a two year old it was sheer torture. You had to be still, and could not dodge the task until every syllable was properly formed and spelled.

Although my Teachers in school had given me the fundamentals, it was always the way of The Jamaican parent or Caretaker to take reading abilities to the next level.

Granny always gave me books for presents that included religious stories from the bible. At an early age I was fascinated with “Noah’s Ark, The Prodigal Son and The Good Samaritan“, just to name a few.

These books have left an indellible mark on my mind because not only did they teach me to read, but they left me with values about life.

I can still recall my first reading session with Granny.

“Come here Ms. Mags. Bring the Bible.”

“But Granny……I have these books from school that I have to read.”

“Well, let’s read a few verses from the Bible and then we’ll tackle the rest.”

Reluctantly, I grabbed my little bible and sat with Granny and her humongous Bible.

Granny would summon.

“No, stand before me and then try to read after me.”

We started on Genesis, “I-n t-h-e b-e-g-n……”

“Go on Mags, enunciate your words, “beginning” that’s it!”

Granny sat there dinning each word into my tiny head. After hours of struggling with the Bible, Granny would acquiesce and tell me to bring my school books.

Her method of reading included no distractions. You weren’t allowed to watch television, listen to the radio or have a snack until you had satisfied her reading criterior.

Most of the time I would fidget because I wasn’t sure if I’d hit the reading jackpot, and if I hadn’t, it would mean several more hours staring at Granny blankly.

I was always glad for the few minutes of recess that she gave me to retrieve my school books. I was often excited by them because they were so colorful and expressive.

Granny would comment.

“I don’t know what kind of foolishness they are letting you read in school. What is this….?”

I would start pointing to the book, and begin explaining.

“R-u-n! S-p-o-t, R-u-n! Granny look at Spot! Isn’t he a nice doggie?”

“That’s what they are giving you children to read?”

“Uh-huh, fun huh?”

Granny would reply dryly.

“Fun indeed, this is Romper Room foolishness. Where is the moral of the story?”

I would shrug in astonishment, after all I was still a toddler and my Granny was ranting about things I barely understood. I would smile and contort myself like a pretzel until she simmered down.

I would distract her by saying, “Granny this next book, you will like it. It’s about rain.”

“Rain? Somebody can write a book about rain and expect kindergartners to read it?”

“Look Granny! I can read it very well.”

“P-i-t-te-r, p-a-t-t-e-r we-n-t the tiny drops in t-h-e puddle. The y-e-l-l-o-w u-m-brella was w-et.”

“This is fun Granny, c’mon let’s read some more!”

“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, but these simple simon books are only going to dumb you up. The Bible will give you all the vocabulary you need.”

Granny was big on reading books and articles that were of substance. In a way, she was glad that I was enthusiastic about my reading, but she was also concerned that the Teachers were giving us doty subjects to read about. Granny felt the pitter patter of rain could be experienced in life and if we went outside we could see the rain and watch Spot run. It was not Rocket Science material.

It was then I realized the grueling demands that Jamaican parents placed on their kids to succeed. My Grandmother felt that if you were old enough to start school at two years of age, then it should be worth your while.

In every reading session we had, she managed to throw in bits and pieces of good humour. Although, at the time I did not think it was very funny. However, years have a way of shedding light on the most embarrassing moments.

After each session Granny would ask me to spell a few words like my name……

I would spell it M-a-r-g-a-r-e-t-t-e, and then secretly wish in my mind, “Why did I have such a long name?”

Granny questioned, “H-mmm, The Margarettie, is that a ship? A place? Because I am not familiar with it.”

Your name is “Margaret”. The T with the tie can say bye, bye.”

Oddly enough, I never misspelled my name after that day. The best joke she made with my spelling was the time I spelt Tomorrow with two m’s.

Granny said, “Who is Tom Morrow? Do you know him? Because I don’t. Kindly take the M away and tell Mr. Morrow to come back another day.”

Once again, I never misspelt the word tomorrow, after her explanation. Granny was a tough cookie when it came to lessons. But her unusual tactics eventually lead me to becoming a Spelling Bee Champion.

My fascination for words have grown immensely from the days of Granny’s stalworth recitations and stern directions.

Perhaps if she had not been so diligent I would have worn the Dunce cap everyday in school.

So Granny, if you are listening, “You are, and will always be supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

Love M-a-r-g-a-r-e-t.