Obviously, most kids can read to themselves by the time they’re eight or nine. Given that, it can feel pointless for parents to read to them. Kids may also perceive a sit-down read-aloud as infantilizing or intrusive. (Do you really expect me to sit here and concentrate on this story for fifteen minutes?) And, of course, the tyranny of devices means that many kids (and parents) don’t spend a lot of time reading books, a pursuit that can feel old-fashioned when there are e-games to play and social media accounts to scroll through.
I get all of this. I do. But family reading has a lot of perks that aren’t always fully understood.
For starters, part of the appeal of gaming and social media is that they’re dynamic, interactive, and social. Reading a paperback can feel like a primitive, slow-mo, 1.0 version of self-amusement compared to the hopped-up options available. Meanwhile, hearing a story read aloud requires kids to listen and focus—this can all seem very old school. But what can get overlooked is that reading to kids adds that interactive, social dimension. Kids interrupt, ask questions, and chatter about who’s the villain and what might happen next. It makes reading feel warmer and more connective.
I’m also struck by how much kids miss when they read on their own. This was something I felt intensely back when I taught high school social studies. In various units, I’d give my high schoolers four-page snippets from Adam Smith, Karl Marx, Frantz Fanon, Federalist 10, the Declaration of Independence, or the like. I’d wander around the room, quietly asking questions, and they’d assure me that they were getting it. Then we’d discuss the readings as a class, and it was obvious that 95 percent of them had no clue what they’d just read. So, we’d then take a day as a whole group to reread it closely, clause by clause, until they actually got it.
My kids will blast through books (Magic Treehouse or City Spies or Phantom Tollbooth or Great Brain or whatever), and it’s frequently clear they’ve absorbed little, skimmed unfamiliar vocabulary, or missed a big chunk of the story. Turning pages is not the same as reading. But reading together builds in a chance to rephrase, emphasize, and help the cool stuff land—so they’re not just churning through pages.
So, why isn’t family reading more common, especially among parents who lament the amount of time their kids spend on screens or wish their kids had more affinity for reading? It’s a great question.
I mentioned the awkwardness of reading to kids who are fully capable of reading on their own. Parents may even fret that reading aloud will slow a child’s development as a reader and convince themselves that, if a kid can read alone, they should. But reading a book and hearing a book are different things. They develop the brain in different ways. They’re both good. Why choose? When my oldest turned seven or so, there was a stretch when he asked if he could read by himself at bedtime. I said that he reads a lot, which is great, but that bedtime was for family reading. He complained a bit and then forgot about it.
Look, if you’re not used to reading aloud, it can initially seem off-putting to wade through paragraphs of exposition or to struggle with accents or intonation. (I’m famously awful at accents and impressions.) Sometimes, I’ll read a sentence, realize I phrased it wrong or articulated it clunkily, and have to back up. But the audience is remarkably forgiving.
