A couple of really interesting studies have popped up recently.
First, this survey, done by the Reading Agency, notes that 63% of men feel like they aren’t reading as much as they think they should and a full fifth of men admit to saying reading is difficult or they don’t enjoy it.
NPR wrote about the findings Common Sense Media had when combing through a series of studies that teens aren’t reading like they used to. This one cites a few reasons why this might be, including the rise of tablets and internet-connected devices, as well as the always-present “not enough time” (that’s the big reason for the survey above on why men are reading less).
But before we cry about how no one is reading anymore, perhaps we should examine one of the biggest factors not examined in either of these studies: how is “reading” defined?
It appears in both cases that “reading” is defined as sitting down with a book — print, of course — and reading it cover to cover. This is how we all traditionally perceive reading, and it’s what we’re taught reading is from a very early age. There are different types of reading, including close reading (something that is brought up in Corey Ann Haydu’s Life By Committee in a way that I think all teens “get”: sitting down with a pen and marking reactions, questions, and favorite lines), reading for research (which also includes note taking, whether in the margins or on paper), and skimming/scanning. There are other reading skills taught to us, of course, but those are easily the three biggest ones. All three are taught from early on, and they’re taught via the print medium.
The problem is that in today’s world, this idea of reading is limiting. It defines reading by the medium in which one type of reading occurs, rather than opening up the idea of reading as an activity one can engage in across multiple platforms, devices, and mediums.
A few years ago when I was working the entire youth services program in my small library, I decided I wanted to shake up how our summer reading program looked. For a long time, the program required readers to track the number of books they read in exchange for rewards along the way. While this is an easy tracking system on the end of the library, it’s a very limiting system for readers. Aside from the fact it privileges readers who choose smaller books over larger books and it privileges faster readers over slower ones, it also reinforces the idea of what reading is: a book.
My proposal was that we count time read, rather than books read. After the change was made, when I got into the schools to talk to teens, I asked them specifically what they they thought counted as “reading.”
Many thought graphic novels and comics didn’t count as reading.
Many thought reading anything on the internet — blogs, magazine websites, gaming forums — didn’t count as reading.
Many thought picking up a newspaper or magazine in print didn’t count as reading.
Many thought that listening to audiobooks didn’t count as reading.
When their impressions of “reading” were shared, I told them their perceptions of what counted as reading were very narrow. Why didn’t graphic novels or comics count as reading? Was it because those aren’t typically what’s being read in the classroom? Is it because graphic novels or comics can sometimes have many pages where there’s no text? What made a magazine — either in print or online — not count as reading?
That summer, I told them I wanted them to count those things as reading. I told them I wanted them to count other things that involved reading to be counted toward reading. Do you spend time reading text messages? Then count it. Do you spend time reading the instructions before you dive into playing a game? Then count it. Do you spend time reading Facebook updates? Then count it. I told them to be reasonable — count those things no more than half an hour a day — but that those things absolutely, positively counted as reading.
When summer ended, I saw a marked increase in participation in the reading program, as well an impressive number of hours logged by teen readers. There was nothing inflated and nothing out of the ordinary. Instead, teens saw a redefinition of reading to include the very things they do every single day that require them to be active and engaged readers. You can’t respond to your friend’s text without reading it, processing it, then forming a response to it. Those are the same skills necessary to engage with a novel or a work of non-fiction assigned in school. The responses may be different. The contexts are different. But all require reading.
Reading is a skill set.
Reading is an activity.
Reading is not a format nor a context.
Of course teens aren’t reading like they used to. Of course men aren’t reading like they used to. Why would they? The world of reading is wide and vast and it’s not limited to one thing anymore.
Before panicking about the numbers and what it is teens or men or women or any other group or category of people are or aren’t doing when it comes to reading, or how things were so much better and greater “back in the day,” think about how those researchers have defined reading. Think about how we have defined reading for those groups. Are we limiting them to one idea of reading? Or are we allowing them to think about the fact that nearly every single thing they do in today’s world — online and offline — requires them to engage in reading?
For some more thoughts on this, go read Liz Burn’s post “Teens Today! They Don’t Read!“
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