During the school year, mornings often descend into a state of frenzy. This chaos is somewhat expected; even though the bell rings at 9 a.m., there’s always a last-minute scramble to get the kids ready. Today was no exception. I had to wake my younger son, the family’s resident late riser, just ten minutes before they needed to leave, which resulted in him hastily eating an Eggo and speedily brushing his teeth.
Then came the dreaded reading log, a task I truly despise.
Neither of my children are particularly passionate readers, but they do engage with books in snippets throughout the day. They read while waiting for friends to finish homework, during our Sunday morning drives to church, and snuggled in bed before sleep. The challenge, however, lies in tracking these reading sessions. Who honestly keeps a timer while reading and logs the minutes? Certainly not anyone in our household.
What should be a delightful and enriching experience often transforms into a burdensome chore, filled with my nagging and their tears. Instead of getting lost in a captivating story, they find themselves fixated on the clock, eager for the task to end. They read not for joy, but to fulfill a school requirement. Instead of cherishing their time with books, I end up reminding them about the reading log or feeling guilty for neglecting it altogether.
I recognize the intentions behind reading logs; teachers aim to foster good reading habits by setting daily goals. Yet, these well-meaning efforts frequently backfire, turning a pleasurable activity into a tedious obligation. Research supports this notion, indicating that external pressures, like reading logs, can diminish intrinsic motivation. A study discussed in The Atlantic revealed that such logs often negatively impact students’ enthusiasm for reading.
This has certainly been true in our home. The authors of that study noted, “When reading is portrayed as something one has to be forced to do, students may conclude that it is not an activity they want to pursue during their free time.”
Last year, we managed to keep up with the monthly reading logs for a while, relying on a mix of encouragement and frustration until I finally conceded defeat halfway through the year. Since my kids often read in bed, we frequently lost track of time. Days would pass without logging any reading, and we resorted to guessing which days they had read and for how long. This practice felt dishonest, and I questioned the message it sent. It was uncomfortable, so we abandoned the logs altogether.
Interestingly, neither of my sons’ teachers seemed to notice the absence of their reading logs, suggesting that even educators might not place much importance on them. In fact, a growing number of teachers have opted out of using reading logs entirely.
As for this school year, it’s still early. We’ve just completed our first week with the reading logs, and I’m attempting to remain optimistic. Perhaps this will motivate my children to read more. But then again, who am I kidding?
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In summary, while the intention behind reading logs is commendable, the reality often dampens the joy of reading, making it a chore rather than a cherished activity.
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