International Literacy Day is commemorated annually on 8 September.

Some memories are so powerful and emotionally charged that they become forever etched in one's mind, remaining with us long after the moment has passed. One of these memories for me was when I was a little girl of four years and my ‘big’ five-year-old brother was preparing for his first day of school.

We were all so excited – he had tried his school uniform on the week before and demanded to wear it every day for the week preceding the Big Day. Our home was full of excitement, with family popping in to take photos of him in his new uniform. “You are a big boy, and you are going to learn to read!” our granny said. “You will be able to write your name and tell the time,” our granddad added. “He is a big boy now,” they told me.

It sounded so amazing – he was entering the world of the “big” people. I remember asking him if he would read to me when he got home from school, and he confidently said: “Yes!”

But when we waited for him at the bus stop that afternoon, a different big brother got off the bus. He moved slowly, with a look of sadness on his face. He hugged my mother, and as we walked slowly behind her to our house, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and whispered: “Maureen, I have been at school all day, and I still can’t read and write.” I shared his shame and made a pinky promise not to tell anyone as we thought that, maybe tomorrow, he would be able to read and write.

That moment seared itself into my memory. It was my first real understanding of how deeply we attach value to literacy, even as children. It was perhaps that moment that planted the seed in my mind to help children learn to read – something that I have done for the past 43 years.

As parents and teachers, our expectations for our children should always be high – but, equally important, they need to be realistic. For children who experience barriers to learning, this becomes even more critical. Literacy is more than just something we learn at school, more than just encoding and decoding words – it is the cornerstone for participation in education, communication, relationships, critical thinking and, hopefully, later in life, for gainful employment.

When we work from the maxim that all children can learn to develop along the literacy continuum – even children with profound disabilities – we open avenues that significantly increase quality of life for all children. This should never be viewed as a luxury for only certain sections of the population. It is a basic human right – and for this reason literacy is included in the Learning Programme for Learners with Profound Intellectual Disability, which is aligned to our National Curriculum Statement. When we all acknowledge its value and act thereupon, children are more likely to experience success. 

The teaching of literacy is especially important for children who are unable to communicate through spoken language and who use augmentative and alternative communication (AAC). While speech-generating devices can and do provide access to words and phrases, these are limited. Literacy and, more specifically, good spelling skills allow a child to say anything. They can question, comment, express humour, state opinions, express needs and wants, and engage in novel conversations that others had not anticipated.

The autonomy afforded to the person increases feelings of dignity and self-worth through their increased social identity. Society sees them as capable, intelligent and engaged.

Literacy is not a single skill, but rather a set of interconnected sub-skills, all of which can be taught and supported even though progress may be characterised by variability and individual differences. Literacy is a distributed function in the brain, involving many areas across both hemispheres. The good news here is that there are multiple pathways to reading, and if one area is underdeveloped due to the nature of the development of the brain, other areas can be strengthened and compensate for the deficit.

For those of us working to support all children, we need to act on some basic principles: Parents are their children’s first teachers, but this does not mean homes should be turned into Grade R classrooms (with labels on household items and furniture, etc.). More importantly, the more our children witness us enjoying our own reading (silent reading and reading out loud), the more they want to emulate us. 

It is of paramount importance that we all hold the firm belief in the ability of all children to learn and move along the literacy continuum, and that no one is “too anything” to be denied our best teaching efforts. The outdated notion that children need to be “ready” to learn is no longer supported by research. The earlier or the sooner we begin, the better.

We need to read highly motivating books to our children daily (multiple times a day if possible), point to the illustrations, and chat about what we see on the pages. Singing songs and reciting nursery rhymes helps in the early stage of learning how sounds work together. Sitting together in a way where the reader and the child both have sight of the text lends itself to the reader pointing to keywords or each word within the sentences. Adapted tactile books, switch-activated e-books and books with symbol-supported text will add interest and engage third or fourth senses to the reading activities.

When we increase the sensory input, in many cases, parts of the brain that remain inactive with only visual and auditory input are often engaged, resulting in easier and more effective learning. 

It is through our efforts of providing language-rich environments, multi-sensory, highly motivating and fun-filled literacy experiences that we promote language, literacy and cognitive development in all our children. This acknowledges the right of every child to move along the literacy continuum and to become literate participants in their worlds.

Postscript: My brother did learn to read. When I read to him what I had initially written for this piece – “Maureen, I have been at school all day, and I still can’t read.” – he looked back at me with embarrassment and, at the age of 64, added: “… and write.”

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the University of Pretoria.