by Ed Wilkens
Last night at our weekly dinner and chess rendezvous, my father handed me a scrap of yellowed vellum with the quote, "Richer than I you can never be. I had a mother who read to me"―Strickland Gillian, written in my great Aunt Josie’s hand.
“Because you inherited Mom’s love of reading and have made it your life’s work,” he said. “First with your own girls and now with their children, books always have mattered so much.”
I know raising a strong reader is much more than merely displaying and sharing a love of books, but I do believe that is how it begins. So, indulge me if you will, as I reflect on what that has meant to me. I’ll leave the technical and scientific accounts to those more knowledgeable and skilled than I, but I will claim both a love for reading and a mission to help others develop the same appreciation.
by Jenna Bisset
The source of a parent’s pride in
their child can come from surprising places filled with tiny actions that speak
to a deeper sense of self-confidence. A deep breath taken to calm themselves
down, an outfit that almost matches
put on alone and with enthusiasm, a song sung in their soft, melodic voice or a
simple look given that tells you there are a million reasons to be proud. You
never know when the next moment will occur that gives you pause and allows you
to bask in your child’s accomplishments, but you know it will be delightful.
My most recent experience like this
was with my three year old at our dinner table. We play a game or do an
activity most nights after eating; on this night our activity was a number
mosaic in which you attach the appropriate color to the appropriate number to
create an underwater world. I pointed to 14 and asked my daughter if she knew
this number as we had recently started working on double digits. After a
thoughtful pause, she stated simply, “I don’t know.” And herein lies one of my
proudest moments to date as a parent.
