EXPRESSION IN READING.
How can children be taught to read aloud clearly, distinctly, and with
feeling, so as to clearly convey the author’s thought and to give
pleasure to the listener? “My pupils do not read with expression,” is a
common complaint. “How can I help them?”
Manifestly the first requisite to reading with expression is the mastery
of the thought on the part of the pupil, and this cannot be accomplished
without mastery of the words. As has been said in another chapter,
children should be trained to study in such a way that they can decide
for themselves what words present difficulties to their understanding.
When the pupils, after studying a lesson, are enabled to point to the
exact words which are obstacles to their thought-getting, the teacher’s
labors are minimized and her teaching is at once made definite. Such
study, too, leads the pupils to more thoughtful reading. Since they
must weigh every word in the sentence to discover its meaning, they
become accustomed to dig for the thought, and to estimate their own
difficulties. By this means they help themselves to the mastery of the
thought, as far as the words in which it is expressed belong to their
vocabulary.
But when a pupil points out to the teacher the words which mark the
boundary of his understanding, it becomes her duty to make them clear to
him. This is a fruitful exercise. The child desires to learn the meaning
of the word which has blocked his way, and his need of it makes him its
master forever after. It is only in this way that words are mastered.
It is idle to explain a list of words for which children have no use
in the expression of their thought. But after the study has revealed
to the child his need of new knowledge, the word fits at once into his
vocabulary and answers the new need. The teacher’s explanation not
only suffices to make the reading plain, but it increases the child’s
vocabulary for future use.
It should be borne in mind in such exercises that the word is not always
made plain by simple explanation; illustration may be necessary, or some
entire language lesson like those indicated in a previous chapter. The
teacher should make mental note at least of these unfamiliar words, in
order that she may so direct her language lesson as to supplement her
teaching in reading. She is wise if she keeps a notebook at hand in which
these lists may be recorded.
It will be seen from the above that the pupil is expected to master the
words of the lesson as a means of getting the thought, before it is
assumed that he can read with expression. But, having prepared himself
through study, and having been assisted by the teacher’s illustration and
explanation, there should be no hindrance to free and natural reading. We
do, however, find expression hindered by various minor causes, some of
which it may be well to discuss.
A frequent occasion of indolent or indifferent reading is the child’s
feeling that the exercise is perfunctory, one of the tasks assigned at
school as a school duty, but having in itself no excuse for being. He
needs to realize that he is delivering a message, or telling a story
which some one desires to hear. It has often been observed that children
read their own productions with marvellously good effect, even when
they stumble and hesitate in the normal reading exercises. The reason
is easily discerned. In the one case they have something to tell, and
desire to tell it. In the second case, the exercise is one in which they
have no special interest. The teacher’s chief endeavor, then, should be
directed toward inciting in the children a desire to communicate thought.
This may sometimes be secured by having the class listen, with closed
books, while a single pupil reads, the teacher insisting that he shall
so read that every one who listens may understand and enjoy all that is
read. Another help which has been suggested by many teachers is the
practice of bringing from home different short selections, which the
pupils are encouraged to read to the class. These selections may be brief
and simple—some anecdote, some clipping from a newspaper, some phrase or
line, some conundrum, which has interested the child. It will soon be
discovered that the children will learn to read well only when conscious
that their reading is the means of conveying the thought to their hearers.
The practice of consulting reference books, even with pupils in the
lowest grammar grades, has a reflex influence upon the power to read
aloud well, since it gives to the pupil something which he desires to
read to the others and which he alone can convey to them. This desire to
share what is read by becoming able to read well should be stimulated in
every possible way.
Again, ease in reading, which is an important factor, is often prevented
by the pupil’s self-consciousness, which renders him timid and awkward
whenever he attempts to read aloud in the presence of others. This timid
self-consciousness varies with different individuals, of course, and
it also varies in different classes. The teacher is often responsible
for this shrinking on the part of the children, although it may be an
unconscious responsibility on her part. Undue criticism of the reader,
which draws the attention of the class to his faults and makes him
conscious of himself, often prevents the very thing which the teacher is
striving to obtain. The pupil’s thought should be drawn away from himself
and centred upon the thought in the sentence, the message which he is to
deliver. The question should be directed toward that, rather than toward
the pupil’s idiosyncrasies.
This is coupled with another serious consideration. It has just been
said that the child cannot read with expression if he is thinking about
himself. It is also true that he cannot read well except as his mind
is centred upon the subject about which he is reading. The teacher’s
efforts should be in the direction of picturing the scene which the child
describes, so that it will become real to him, and that he may be enabled
to paint it to the class. She not only will endeavor to refrain from
drawing the pupil’s attention to himself by ill-chosen comments, but she
will also help him to imagine the thing described and to fix his thought
upon it. For the time being everything else is forgotten.
Let us suppose that a class is reading “Paul Revere’s Ride”:
“Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse’s side,
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still;
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!
A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.”
Used by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
If the pupil is to make his hearers hear and see Paul Revere, he must
see and hear him, too. His eye must be upon the belfry tower of the Old
North Church; he must feel the loneliness of the quiet graveyard, the
fearfulness of the silent way; he must catch the gleam of the light; must
watch the impetuous mounting, hear the hurry of hoofs in the village
street, and realize the fatefulness of the hour in which the land is
kindled into flame. Every effort should be centred upon helping the
children to feel, to imagine the picture, and to sense its depth of
meaning. Say nothing now about holding the book in one hand, standing
on both feet or throwing the shoulders back; but stir the class to
feel as Paul Revere felt, and to tell the tale with enthusiastic pride.
Let all the questions help to make the picture clearer and the feeling
stronger. Read again, and again, and again, until the message becomes
most familiar, but with every reading more eager than before.
This selection emphasizes the need of preparation for the reading lesson
outside of the reading class. No one can read the poem well who does
not understand the setting. The story of the Revolution is essential to
understanding the poem. Why the British ships were in the harbor; why the
country folk should be up and in arms; what preceded and what followed
the fateful ride; the scene of the poem—the belfry, the church, the town,
the river, the harbor—must be clearly in mind. The background of the
poet’s picture must be drawn before the children attempt to read aloud
the paragraph.
It is obvious that the picture will be most vivid in the minds of those
pupils who are most generously endowed with imagination. The above
exercise goes to prove the need of some attempt on the part of teachers
to cultivate the imagination of the children. A close scrutiny of the
failures in our reading lessons would lead us to believe that it is to
a lack of this power that we may attribute much of our difficulty in
teaching reading. As soon as the children picture the scene which the
words describe, they read with interest and vigor. Their indifference and
heaviness are largely due to the fact that the words suggest no picture
to them.
This faculty might be developed, in some degree, by frequent
conversations which necessitate the children’s picturing or imagining
what they have read. The simplest primer will lend itself to this
exercise. The habit of drawing the picture which the sentence suggests
is a further stimulus. Reading fairy stories or stories of adventure
may help to stimulate the imagination. An effective aid is derived
from playing or acting the story told in the lesson. I remember seeing
a primary class that played “Hiawatha” with great delight, different
children taking the parts of Nokomis, Hiawatha, Wenonah, the Pine Tree,
the Fir Tree, the Squirrels, the Rabbits; reciting their parts with eager
pleasure, acting them in the most unconscious fashion, and never with
any lack of expression. The children recited with ease and naturalness
and vigor. They were lost in their play, which was very real to them.
Not long ago I visited a school in which the children had begged the
privilege of representing the dialogue which they were reading. They
assigned the parts themselves, improvised simple costumes, and read
their various parts with great animation. The members of the class who
served as audience listened with rapt attention, very unlike that which
is ordinarily accorded to a rendering of the reading lesson. Through the
play, the lesson became vitalized, it was made real. It did not occur
to the teacher to suggest inflections or pauses; such suggestions were
quite as unnecessary as they would have been in any conversation with the
children. These things take care of themselves when the children have
once been overmastered by the desire to express the thought. Nor will it
ever be necessary to dwell upon them if this desire is created. “Seek
ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things
shall be added unto you.” In a parallel sense, if we once inspire in the
children the desire to convey the message of the text, the accessories
of inflection and tone will become theirs. It cannot be too strongly
emphasized that these lesser phases of good reading will be secured if
properly subordinated to one great aim—the desire to communicate thought.
It is not difficult to imagine a question at this point. “Would you
not have any vocal exercises to help in securing expression?” By all
means, but not as a part of the reading exercise. If the exercise shows
that the children have certain needs,—if the teeth are closed, if the
pronunciation is slovenly or the articulation poor,—special exercises
should be planned to remedy such defects, but these should be given as
exercises and not as a part of the reading lesson. Sentences which demand
clear articulation may be pronounced in rapid succession, or sung to
the scale; selections may be read from the farthest corner of the room.
Exercises which stretch the muscles used in articulation, exercises
which straighten the body or secure ease in posture; breathing exercises
and their kindred,—all are helpful, _as exercises_, but they should not
interrupt the reading. They may alternate with reading, and prepare for
it, but they should be considered, as they really are, subordinate to the
one essential, the creation of a desire to read.
“Would you ever read to children in order to help them to get the right
expression?” is a question which is frequently asked. By all means. There
is no other way in which children can form an ideal of good reading.
Many children hear no reading in their homes. They are accustomed to
monotonous speech and to careless articulation. It is necessary to read
to them, and to read well, in order to show them what good reading is. A
further advantage of reading to the children is to show them how much the
teacher gets from a poem or story which has meant little to them. Such
reading should not lead to servile imitation on the part of the children;
rather the opposite. The teacher’s comments upon the reading in the class
will readily fix the seal of her approval upon individual renderings.
“Let me hear how that seems to you, John,” she will say. “Mary, let me
hear you read. I should like to get your thought.” “Kate, is that the
way you understood it? Let me hear you read it.” I have heard a teacher
request one pupil after another to read, waiting until the interpretation
which was like her own was given before she commended, and impressing
upon the entire class her feeling that such reading alone was correct.
As a matter of fact, every rendering which was given was as good as the
teacher’s—some even were better. The reader must interpret the author’s
message as it appears to him. His reading shows _his_ interpretation.
If the teacher reads to the class, she shows simply what the writer’s
message has been to her. In the reading lesson she gives to the pupils
the opportunity of expressing what they themselves have read.
In reading, as in everything else, ease comes with practice. The class
should have two varieties of practice. They should read and re-read a
few selections which demand variety in expression; and they should read
many easy selections which require very little effort in mastering. If
the exercise is difficult enough to demand study, it will necessitate
hesitation if read at sight. Such attempts at sight reading, with too
difficult matter, will result in the habit of stumbling. Children should
have an opportunity to overcome by study the difficulties which would
otherwise make them hesitate in reading. All sight reading, so called,
should be easy enough to be read fluently at sight.
The old-fashioned custom of setting apart Friday afternoons for reading,
recitation, and declamation should be revived. The exercise was
admirable, giving the children confidence in reading and speaking which
resulted in ease and fluency. It was a helpful adjunct to the reading
class and deserves to be honored in the observance.
It may be well to suggest, in this connection, that the habit of reading
with free and individual expression is seriously hindered by the practice
of concert reading. If the teachers who pursue that practice were to
attempt occasionally to read aloud in company with others, they would
discover the difficulties under which the children labor. The practice
works in direct opposition to the exercises which have been advised.
It is impossible for the child to give his individual rendering in a
concert recitation. He cannot even read at his individual rate; he must
wait for his neighbor. His words drag, his voice becomes strained and
unnatural, the exercise assumes the school-room tone, and the children
adopt the swinging rhythm of the singsong. A few children lead; the
others follow, or most of the others—a very few succeed in evading the
reading altogether. All this is wrong. It is better for the child to read
once alone than to read ten times in concert with others. It is true,
however, that there is one place for the concert reading. When a poem
or paragraph has been memorized by the entire class under the direction
of the teacher, they may learn to recite it well in concert without the
disadvantages described; but, as a reading lesson, the exercise has no
place—it should be banished from the school-room.
One word more. In our attempts to teach children to read with expression,
we may be helped by studying to learn what selections they like best to
read, what it is that appeals to them. By following the line of their
interest we may come to realize why selections which we have chosen are
difficult for them, and through making a wiser choice may become more
successful in our teaching. Here, as elsewhere, it is the intelligent
study of the class by the teacher which enables her to apply her
knowledge of the subject which she teaches.
_The highest office of reading is not to open the eyes of the
child to the evolution of the material world, nor to teach
him to adapt its resources to his own subsistence; he needs
no books for that. The greatest hunger of the human soul
is not for food. It is that he may better understand soul
motives and heart needs; that he may more freely give to the
heart-hungry, and more freely receive from the soul-full; that
he may live out of and away from his meaner self; that he may
grow all-sided; that he may look with analytic rather than
with critical eyes upon the erring; that he may relish the
homely side of life, and weave beauty into its poverty and ugly
hardships; that he may add to his own strength and wisdom the
strength and wisdom of the past ages. It is that he may find
his own relation to the eternal, that the child, equally with
the grown person, turns to the songs which ravish the ear and
gladden the heart._
—_MARY E. BURT._
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