I came from a middle-class home, was a straight-A student, and have a degree in journalism. I like to curl up with a good novel, and feel sorry for people who don't have that option... but I never realized how much my easy literacy is something I take for granted, until I read some promotional material from the Novel Marathon's beneficiary: the Muskoka Literacy Council (MLC). In 2006, the written word is ubiquitous, in every aspect of life.
As a news junkie, I take it totally for granted that, any time I like, I can find out what's happening, from every angle, all over the world. A person who can't read is limited to what people tell him, or the relatively shallow and parochial views of TV and radio.
I need work: I whip through the want ads, looking in particular for wordy-type jobs. He must rely on someone else to read the ads to him -- and he knows not to bother with jobs that are anything but menial labour.
I tailor my resume on my computer to suit whatever I'm applying for. He can't write up one resume. If he did, he'd have to admit on it that he left school after eighth grade because he couldn't cope (he can learn, but not with the teaching methods used in public schools) ...or his situation at home was too unstable to enable him to handle the pressure ...or else he is from another country and struggling to learn English.
More than three items on my shopping list, and it goes on paper. He just has to remember everything.
I want to cook some dish I've never cooked before, and I can find a score of recipes for it by Googling. He's stuck with the few he knows.
My date book is loaded with appointments, consults, dates, special notes. He schedules his life by memory.
I hate filling out forms... but you have to do it. Income tax, mortgage applications, emergency info for school, intake for medical services -- it's part of life. He'd love to be able to.
I want to call a plumber or a lawyer or a dentist or an acquaintance whose number I don't know: I get out the phonebook. He has to be satisfied with the numbers he's memorized. When he gets a bill, he has to have someone read it to him.
I have to write an important note to my child's teacher or doctor. He has to get someone else to write it (possibly the kid, when old enough) and he can only sign it with an "X."
I sign a contract: if I don't read the fine print, it's my own stupid fault. It isn't his. Being unable to read caveats, he is easy for the unscrupulous to rip off.
I want to know what's going to be on TV tonight; I read the listings. He's limited to pre-announcements on other programs.
I want to know what ingredients are in a packaged food I'm buying, or a bottle of pills: I read the label. He has to live without that knowledge or -- as always, with the indignity it entails -- rely on someone else.
My young child gets a gift that says "Some assembly required." I carefully follow the enclosed instructions. All he has is a bag of parts, the picture on the box, and a bouncing, eager-eyed kid.
I curse that I don't score perfect on the written part of the driver's test. He is hesitant at best. He won't be able to read street signs, or the vehicle owner's manual, or license forms, or insurance documents.
I make friends and contacts all over the world, on the Internet. All such opportunities are closed to him.
I journal; I track my life, my observations, my changes. Sometimes when I read it back, I realize that my memories of the past are distorted. He has to live without such a personal record and what it could teach him.
I draw inspiration, comfort and enlightenment from scripture or other spiritual writings. He can only do so if someone else is willing to take the time to read to him.
Helping my kids with homework, I can share with them all sorts of little tips and tricks that helped me become a straight-A student. His kids are on their own.
Over and over I hear that the best way to give youngsters a head start in reading is to read them a story every night. So I do, and when they start to read along, I correct and teach. He can't, and so he worries that if his kids grow up to live the same nightmare he is living... it will be his own fault.
All around me is information. Meaning leaps out at me from every piece of paper, book spine, package, window on my computer screen. There's a world of it available with a click of a mouse; I can find out something about literally any topic. He is a stranger in a strange land of incomprehensible symbols. The doors easily and unthinkingly opened by others around him are locked and barred to him. Knowledge is power, and without the primary way of receiving it, he is relatively powerless, and feels it keenly. Competing in a verbal world, he knows he is at a huge disadvantage.
To manage in the information age, he has to work twice as hard. Knowing the stigma attached to illiteracy, he uses many strategies to conceal his inability -- though he knows people will see through it anyway. That takes even more work, as well as the shame inherent in the ruse. Keeping himself convinced he isn't stupid is a constant effort.
Politically, he is invisible, because politics runs on the written word. He can't write a letter to the editor, participate in an online forum, start a blog; his long-trained instinct is to hide, anyway.
I log on to Kos, this crazy, brilliant, wild, passionate, beloved community.
All he can make of it is orange, and a guy waving a flag.
~~~
The true incidence of literacy problems among adults is unknown to most -- and higher than you'd think.
A study done in 1994-1998 (Albert Tuijnman: Benchmarking Adult Literacy in North America: An International Comparative Study - Adobe Reader required) found that, for the age group 45-65, 20 per cent of Americans and 27 per cent of Canadians have zero to rudimentary literacy skills. For people aged 16-65, born in the USA, 14 per cent are at this level; in Canada it's 13 per cent. For immigrants to whom English is a second language, the percentage is much higher: 64 per cent in the USA, 50 per cent in Canada.
In Muskoka, where I live, about a third of the population is affected.
It's a Catch-22. He'd love to be able to train for well-paying work -- but without well-paying work, how can he afford reading lessons?
This is where the Muskoka Literacy Council comes in. Using funds raised through the Novel Marathon and other channels, and hours contributed by trained volunteers (many of them retired teachers), MLC offers free instruction in literacy, numeracy, computer and basic life skills, to out-of-school teens and adults. "Our students," says President of the Board Susan Lowe, "have degrees of difficulty with reading and writing or numeracy which greatly impacts their lives and their ability to contribute meaningfully to society."
MLC has produced some amazing success stories. "Our oldest student, 99-year-old Clarence Brazier, learned to read only seven years ago." (He's going to pop in on the marathon, so maybe I'll ask him to proof a page or two of mine.) Some, Lowe says, "have since opened businesses of their own; others can now read and write well enough to help their children with their homework.
"All have seen their self confidence grow in leaps and bounds as a result of the success they have had."
They are overcoming all the above challenges. The squiggles that are everywhere in life are becoming meaningful to them, opening up the whole world. They are going on to seize control of life, to participate, to contribute, to enjoy, and to make their mark in the world. They are enriched, and so is the economy and society itself. We ALL benefit from this work.
This is why the 25 or so of us will all be writing our brains out this weekend... and why I invite you to sponsor me.
I can take email donations by credit card through PayPal, so please email me at hearth <at> vianet <dot> on <dot> ca, with your mailing address (so MLC can send you a receipt/thank you) and the amount you'd like to contribute.
Please also support literacy by recommending this diary.
On Monday -- or at least whenever my mind and fingers recover -- I'll post again about the experience.
Thanks in advance!
