Reading, Like Magic
By Marni Myers
A big read book, the call of the written word, and… cereal boxes? Marni relates how her love of reading was honed at the breakfast table.
learned to read in an era before “Hooked on Phonics,” when Dick and Jane were heading out the door but no other reading methodology had yet come along to take their place. My first-grade teacher, Mrs. McGee, had a big red book, conveniently called The Big Red Book, that served as our reading primer. I don’t recall any lessons on the sounds letters make, memorizing “sight words,” or the mystery of the silent e. Instead, I remember Mrs. McGee holding up The Big Red Book—which was probably nearly three feet tall—in the front of the class and reading aloud to us, underlining the words with her fingers as she went. She said that if we followed along, soon we’d simply “pick it up” and voila! we’d be able to read. Like magic!
I distinctly recall one particular day in class when suddenly some of the students were able to read. They were reading along with Mrs. McGee, haltingly sounding out the simple words as she pointed. I remember wrinkling up my nose with a combination of annoyance and amazement, wondering how it was that we were supposed to learn to read without any actual reading instruction, and how those other kids had done just that.
Much to my chagrin, shortly thereafter, I too started reading. Just like that. I’m still a little bit miffed that Mrs. McGee was right.
Once I’d learned to read, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t limit myself to just reading books; I read everything, everywhere: bill boards, license plates, t-shirts, packaging, magazine covers at the grocery store check-out counter, and cereal boxes. How I loved reading cereal boxes! I was the kid that cereal box designers live for, the one who was drawn in by flashy colors, offers of prizes that were “FREE (with purchase of 28 boxes plus shipping and handling),” and quirky characters urging me to discover the healthy breakfast waiting for me at the end of the maze on the back.
My passion for reading cereal boxes was probably influenced by the fact that I loved cold cereal and ate it for breakfast nearly every day. My favorite breakfast ritual involved arranging three cereal boxes in an inverted U shape around my cereal bowl, all with their entertaining backsides facing toward me to create a semi-private cereal-box sanctuary. There in my little cardboard retreat, I’d scoop and crunch my Cheerios, Rice Krispies, or Fruit Loops while reading each cereal box, in turn, until my bowl was empty.
When the pace of my box-reading outstripped the rate at which my family consumed cereal and got new boxes, I began reading not only the backs of the boxes—which I’d generally memorized by that point—but also all the sides too. I read about the history of the company printed on one narrow side, the nutritional information and ingredients list on the other. It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand it all or that it wasn’t as interesting as the brain teaser on the back. It was the written word and my eyes were riveted.
A few years after my reading breakthrough, near the end of fourth grade, my elementary school was torn down to make room for a new school building being erected in the space that used to occupy our playground. Before the red brick schoolhouse was turned to rubble, the school cleaned out its musty storage lockers and gave away boxes of old classroom supplies, visual aids, and teaching props. Among the paraphernalia was Mrs. McGee’s Big Red Book, by then tattered and faded. Mrs. McGee had retired and apparently didn’t want to take it with her. I considered claiming it for its sentimental value, but decided that it would be put to better use in some other school’s classroom, helping new groups of children discover the pleasure of the written word. Like magic.
