One a day, plus iron

Today I listened to a podcast called Sold a Story regarding the teaching of reading to children. If you don't have kids or don't know much about education, this approach to teaching reading used the idea that context, cue-ing strategies, and whatnot could better teach reading than, for example, explaining about phonics and teaching legit "decoding strategies" that help kids link the letter combos in front of them to the sounds of the words they already know. For a while, starting in the mid-eighties or whatever, this idea took prominence in the education world and it was kinda how they... taught reading.

Unfortunately, this method of "teaching reading" didn't do so well at actually teaching reading. And that's what the podcast is about.

( Read more? )

I don't write fiction much and when I do, it's about as much fun as banging out chin-ups (if I could do chin-ups, which I cannot despite having fairly decent upper-body strength and the ability at almost-fifty and 170 lbs, to shinny up a swingset pole). Therefore, I have some sympathy for people who are writing fiction. It's a lot like work. And so I sometimes pony up actual money earned by the sweat of my brow (this past week running a vibrating plate floor sander over ancient oak floors to remove carpet cement and what seemed like fifty layers of varnish) to read fiction written by other people.

( Sometimes this goes well... )