Is a childhood love of reading crucial for success?

Here’s something I started typing up a while back; thought I’d finish this as a distraction from the current unpleasantness in the news.

Books and me go way back.

My mom likes to tell the story that I’d get in trouble at school for sneaking another book (and no, not the comic book of a Calvin & Hobbes strip) when we were supposed to be reading the reading or social studies text together as a class.  And I know I read from a very young age, and took pride in being able to read above grade-level.

But you know what?  I can’t really recall any favorite books or series from childhood.  I remember Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, and Ruth Chew books (which were out of print when I looked for them a couple years ago but are now apparently being reissued), and read all the Marguerite Henry titles, and I know I read a certain number of books that were “classics” like Little Women and the Chronicles or Narnia series, but I don’t recall them with any particular affection.  At some point my parents got me started with James Michener books — Hawaii, Chesapeake, Poland, Space, etc.  And again, other than Gone With the Wind, which I read multiple times, there aren’t really any books that I remember as being a “favorite book.”  In college, I had friends who seemed a lot more “literary” than I was, and I felt like I had to “catch up,” so I picked up all manner of classics (think Wuthering Heights) at the used bookstore, though nothing really clicked.  And now I tend to stick with politics, history, and biography.

Not so with my middle son:  he first loved, loved Harry Potter, which he read in 3rd grade, and was convinced there’d never be anything as good, until I said he should try Rick Riorden, and, when he was convinced that Percy Jackson was the only good series, I insisted he give Fablehaven a try; now he’s read everything Brandon Mull has written and is branching out, as long as it’s older kids’ fantasy and science fiction.  My youngest?  He read all the Magic Tree House books, then the Secrets of Droon, now he’s starting on some Beverly Cleary.  My oldest?  He likes teen science fiction, though he goes through phases of reading a lot, and then not at all; sometimes, though, he and my middle son will argue because they both want to read the same library book.

So we should be set, right, in terms of our children’s future success in life?

How about some counter-examples:

My husband.  I tend to say that I mostly fake it as an actuary, but he truly is one, with a master’s in math, and an ability to visualize math much better than I ever could, instead stumbling through a problem by brute force.  And he’s great with the consultant side of things, and interacting with clients, and he’s teaching himself programming in his spare time (though this is a relatively new project, so I can’t report on the progress).  But reading?  Not so much.  Yes, of course, Zite, and Spiegel,de, but not books, not now as an adult, and not much, as a kid, either, with the exception of Tolkien.

My brother.  He was a C student (I think); didn’t have the grades to get into college much of anywhere, so he attended the local community college for two years, then transferred to Michigan State and got a degree in business.  (Yes, the community college + transfer route does work.)  He got a job at K-Mart; their system was that one worked as an assistant manager at a store for five years or so, to gain experience and earn your way into headquarters, where he then worked as a buyer, until the bankruptcy.  But he landed on his feet, ended up as a buyer at a hospital, and learned his job so well that he’s now Director of Purchasing or some such title, and earning a pretty healthy income.

Did he read as a kid?  Hardly.

Which means that when I read facebook-friends posting about how thrilled they are that their kids love reading, or when the kids’ teachers talk about how they’re all set because they like books, I hesitate.  Of course, being able to read well is important.  But some kids are transported into other worlds, or into stories of relationships, family, friendships.  And others aren’t.  And there are other important skills for children to acquire, that are not gained from “curling up with a good book” any more than they are gained from video games:  relationships with peers, mechanical and “maker” skills, the arts, physical activity, etc.

(It also seems to me that children’s fiction has changed quite a bit:  perhaps I simply was unaware of the choices available to me as a child, but I don’t recall the abundance of series fiction that leads to full bags every time I bring my middle son to the library.  And at the same time, while I’m waiting for them, I’ll sometimes leaf through the offerings — it seems as if, if it’s not fantasy, the fiction on the new book shelves seems to always be about Big Issues: a death in the family, only hinted at in the book jacket description, or discrimination of some kind.)

Bottom line:  reading can be an enjoyable way to pass the time.  But it’s not magic.