A parent asked me about my feedback of her child. I gave her the assurance that everything’s fine. She needn’t worry about the progress of her child’s writing skills.
I gave her my honest feedback without being too anxious about her child’s progress. The main reason for my confidence was the fact he’s reading with interest and joy.
Reading for the Soul, Not the Score
My reading habit was organic. My father bought me my first book, and I loved it. There were a lot of books after that. If there’s one thing that dominated my childhood, it would unanimously be books.
I would curl up to a book borrowed from the school library at the end of the day. There was no game plan or goal to achieve. I enjoyed something. I did it. Reading was as basic as that for me.
Reading was one of the simple pleasures of life. It remains so to this day. In fact, I recently discovered that reading is even more pleasurable and wholesome in times of grief.
In the Beginning, There Was Joy
What I didn’t realise then which I do now is that I was subconsciously learning a lot by reading for joy.
The creativity, vocabulary, storytelling, and more came more effortlessly to me than my peers who didn’t read. Reading didn’t just hone my creativity and writing skills, but it also made me an empathetic person. I know these might sound like fancy, idealistic claims, but I genuinely believe reading played an important part in shaping my character—apart from my upbringing.
Maybe the Kids Are Doing Just Fine
I was raised in a permissive, progressive home. There was nothing that we were asked not to read, and I turned out okay.
I am confident that my student is on the right path because he found joy in reading too. It’s not enforced by anyone, and he has the complete freedom to read the books he’s interested in without judgement.
Books are a thing of joy. And nothing makes me more happy in the world than see a child engrossed in a book in his hand.
This post is a part of Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026.
