Wednesday evening in the Brand household began with a disagreement.
It was not about vegetables, television, bath time or whether Barry was allowed to wear his dinosaur slippers to school.
It was about reading.
More specifically, it was about the new reading books that Barry and Marmaduke had been bringing home from school.
Every evening, they were expected to read their books with an adult and practise their high-frequency words using flashcards.
This was apparently an essential part of learning to read.
Barry regarded it as an unnecessary interruption to his life.
Marmaduke agreed.
They had only just returned from Barbados. They had important things to do. There were dinosaurs to discuss, Lego constructions to complete, imaginary rescue missions to organise and a considerable amount of playing to catch up on.
Reading was getting in the way.
“Why do we have to do it every night?” Barry asked, sitting at the kitchen table.
“Because practising regularly helps you become a better reader,” Mrs Brand explained.
“But I read yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“And the day before.”
“Yes.”
“And on another Monday.”
“Yes.”
Barry looked at her.
“How many times do I have to read the same book?”
“Until you can read it confidently.”
“I can read it.”
“Wonderful. Let’s hear you.”
Barry looked down at the book.
The title was The Big Red Bus.
He looked at the first page.
“The…”
He paused.
“Big…”
Another pause.
“Red…”
He looked up.
“Can I have a biscuit?”
Mrs Brand closed her eyes briefly.
“Let’s finish the sentence first.”
Barry sighed.
“Bus.”
“Excellent. Now let’s read the whole sentence.”
Barry looked at the page.
“The big red bus.”
“Very good.”
“Can I have a biscuit now?”
“After we’ve finished the book.”
Barry looked at Marmaduke.
“This is taking ages.”
Marmaduke nodded sympathetically.
“It’s ridiculous.”
Alfie, meanwhile, was having a wonderful evening.
He was sitting at the other end of the kitchen table, completing his homework.
He had already finished his spelling practice, checked his maths and was now reading a chapter of his library book.
He loved homework.
Not in a vague, mildly enthusiastic way.
He genuinely loved it.
He liked having a task, knowing what was expected, completing it and ticking it off a list.
He had even created a small homework checklist.
Mr Brand had once suggested that Alfie might enjoy a career in project management.
Alfie had asked what qualifications were required.
“Alfie,” said Mrs Brand, “how is your homework going?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Have you finished?”
“Nearly.”
“Would you like a snack?”
“No, thank you. I want to finish this first.”
Barry stared at him.
“Why?”
Alfie looked up.
“Because I want to.”
“Why?”
“Because I like doing it.”
Barry looked genuinely concerned.
“Are you poorly?”
Alfie sighed.
“No, Barry.”
“Do you need a doctor?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Barry, please read your book.”
Barry turned back to his page.
“I’m trying.”
The flashcards were the next problem.
Mrs Brand produced a small pile of cards from the school reading folder.
They contained high-frequency words: common words that appear very often in written texts.
Some could be sounded out.
Others were tricky words, where the spelling didn’t follow the usual rules and the children needed to recognise them by sight.
Words such as the, said, was, you, they, one and come.
They were small words.
They were also, in Barry’s opinion, a complete nuisance.
“Right,” said Mrs Brand. “Let’s practise these.”
Barry looked at the first card.
“THE.”
“Good. What does it say?”
“The.”
“Excellent.”
Next card.
“WAS.”
“Good.”
Next.
“YOU.”
“Good.”
Next.
“SAID.”
Barry looked at it.
“S-A-I-D.”
“That’s spelling it. What does it say?”
“Sad?”
“Not quite. It’s said.”
Barry looked at the card again.
“But it doesn’t say said.”
Mrs Brand nodded.
“It’s a tricky word. We learn to recognise it.”
“Why?”
“Because English has some words that don’t follow the usual rules.”
Barry looked at her.
“That’s silly.”
Mrs Brand smiled.
“Yes. English can be a bit silly.”
“Who made it?”
“Lots of people over a very long time.”
“Can we tell them to change it?”
Mr Brand, passing through with a cup of tea, stopped.
“Barry, if you manage to reform the English language before bedtime, do let me know.”
Barry ignored him.
He was busy glaring at the word said.
The first attempt at reading and flashcards had been conducted with Barry and Marmaduke sitting together.
This had been a mistake.
A serious mistake.
A mistake that would be remembered by the adults for some time.
Mrs Brand had shown Barry a flashcard.
“What does this say?”
Barry had looked at it.
“THE.”
“Good.”
Marmaduke had leaned across.
“That’s easy.”
Mrs Brand showed him the next card.
“WHAT does this say?”
Barry shouted, “I KNOW!”
Mrs Brand looked at him.
“Barry, Marmaduke is answering.”
Marmaduke looked at the card.
“WAS.”
“Excellent.”
Barry immediately said, “I knew that.”
“That’s lovely,” said Mrs Brand. “Now let’s give Marmaduke a turn.”
Marmaduke looked at the next card.
“THEY.”
Barry interrupted.
“THERE!”
“No,” said Marmaduke.
“Yes,” said Barry.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Mrs Brand put the cards down.
“Right. We’re going to do this separately.”
The boys looked at her.
“Why?” asked Barry.
“Because you’re interrupting each other.”
“We’re helping,” said Marmaduke.
“You’re not,” said Mrs Brand.
“We are,” Barry insisted.
Mr Brand appeared at the kitchen door.
“From what I can hear, you’re conducting a hostile takeover of the English language.”
The solution was simple.
Barry would read with Mrs Brand in the sitting room.
Marmaduke would read with Marjory at the dining table.
They would practise their flashcards separately.
There would be no shouting answers from one room to another.
There would be no coaching, prompting, arguing or competitive word recognition.
And there would definitely be no swapping books.
Barry was not pleased.
“Why can’t Marmaduke do it with me?”
“Because you interrupt each other.”
“I won’t.”
“You did five minutes ago.”
“I won’t again.”
Mrs Brand looked at him.
“Barry.”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
Marmaduke went with Marjory.
He was given his reading book, a small pile of flashcards and a glass of water.
“Right,” said Marjory. “Let’s start with the book.”
Marmaduke opened it.
“Can we read it quickly?”
“We can read it carefully.”
“Can we read it quickly and carefully?”
“We can try.”
He began.
He was doing well.
He recognised several words, sounded out others and listened carefully when Marjory helped him.
Then he reached a sentence containing the word come.
He stopped.
“C-O-M-E.”
“That’s right. What does it say?”
“Come.”
“Excellent.”
Marmaduke looked pleased.
“That’s a silly one.”
“It is a little unusual.”
“Why isn’t it spelled cum?”
Marjory paused.
“Because that’s not how we spell it.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“English is silly.”
Marjory smiled.
“You and Barry seem to have reached the same conclusion.”
In the sitting room, Barry was having a different experience.
He had read three pages.
He had recognised the, and, is and it.
He had also attempted to read the word was as “waz”, which Mrs Brand had decided was a reasonable approximation for a four-year-old who had spent the previous week eating mango and swimming in the Caribbean.
“Good try,” she said. “Let’s look at it again.”
Barry looked.
“Was.”
“That’s right.”
“Can I stop now?”
“Not quite. Let’s finish the page.”
Barry looked at the book.
Then at Mrs Brand.
Then at Snowball, who was asleep on the sofa.
“Snowball doesn’t have to read.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a cat.”
Barry thought about this.
“Could she learn?”
“Possibly.”
“Can we teach her?”
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to finish your reading.”
Barry sighed.
“This is taking over my life.”
Mrs Brand smiled.
“You’re four.”
“Exactly.”
After the books came the flashcards.
Mrs Brand held up one.
“THE.”
“The.”
“Good.”
“WAS.”
“Was.”
“Good.”
“YOU.”
“You.”
“Excellent.”
“SAID.”
Barry stared at it.
“Sad.”
“Remember, it’s said.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a tricky word.”
Barry looked at her.
“It’s not tricky. It’s wrong.”
Mrs Brand laughed.
“Perhaps.”
She held up another.
“ONE.”
Barry looked at it.
“One.”
“Very good.”
“That’s another silly one.”
“Yes.”
“Can we tell English to sort itself out?”
Mrs Brand smiled.
“I’ll put it on the list.”
By the time both boys had finished, the adults were exhausted.
The boys were not.
They immediately returned to the floor and began building a Lego dinosaur enclosure.
Alfie was still at the table, finishing the final question on his homework sheet.
Mr Brand looked at him.
“Alfie, it’s nearly bedtime.”
“I know. I’m just checking my answers.”
“Would you like to stop?”
“No, thank you.”
“Would you like to do Barry’s reading tomorrow?”
Alfie looked up.
“No.”
“Wise.”
Barry was building a tower.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Do we have to read tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s every night.”
Barry looked horrified.
“Even Thursday?”
“Yes.”
“Even Friday?”
“Yes.”
“Even Saturday?”
Mr Brand paused.
“I’m not sure about Saturday. We’ll check the school instructions.”
Barry looked relieved.
Then Mrs Brand said, “And we’ll practise your words too.”
Barry dropped a Lego brick.
“EVERY DAY?”
“Regularly,” she said.
He looked at Marmaduke.
Marmaduke looked at him.
They had reached an understanding.
Something would have to be done.
At bedtime, Barry was still thinking about it.
He climbed into bed and pulled his duvet up to his chin.
Mrs Brand sat beside him.
“Did you enjoy your reading tonight?”
Barry considered his answer.
“No.”
“Did you find any of it easier?”
He thought for a moment.
“Yes.”
“Which words?”
“The.”
“Good.”
“And was.”
“Excellent.”
“And one.”
“Very good.”
Barry looked at her.
“I think I might be getting better.”
Mrs Brand smiled.
“I think you are.”
Barry was quiet for a moment.
Then he asked, “Will I have to read books forever?”
“Probably.”
Barry looked appalled.
“Even when I’m a grown-up?”
“Yes.”
“That’s terrible.”
Mrs Brand kissed his forehead.
“It’s actually rather wonderful. Reading lets you discover all sorts of things.”
“Like dinosaurs?”
“Absolutely.”
“Pirates?”
“Yes.”
“Explosions?”
“Possibly.”
Barry nodded.
He was beginning to see the attraction.
Then he remembered something.
“Can I read a book about dinosaurs tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Not The Big Red Bus.”
Mrs Brand smiled.
“We’ll see what your teacher sends home.”
Barry sighed.
It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Across the road, Marmaduke was also getting ready for bed.
Marjory had finished his reading and flashcards, and he had been pleased with himself.
He had recognised several words without help.
He had also remembered said, although he still felt strongly that the spelling was unreasonable.
“Did you enjoy reading tonight?” Marjory asked.
Marmaduke shook his head.
“Not really.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“English is silly.”
Marjory laughed.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Marmaduke climbed into bed.
“Can I read a dinosaur book tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“And can Barry read it too?”
“If you take turns.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“Good.”
He paused.
“Mummy?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think Alfie likes homework because he’s eight?”
Marjory smiled.
“I think Alfie has always liked learning.”
Marmaduke thought about this.
“That’s strange.”
Marjory kissed him goodnight.
“Perhaps. But it’s a very useful quality.”
Marmaduke considered this for a moment.
Then he said, “I’m glad Barry doesn’t like it either.”
Marjory laughed.
“Goodnight, Marmaduke.”
At the Brand house, Mr Brand was switching off the kitchen lights when he noticed the reading books on the table.
He picked up Barry’s book.
The Big Red Bus.
He looked at the cover.
Then he looked at the flashcards.
Then he looked at Alfie’s neatly completed homework sheet.
He shook his head.
Three children in the house, if you counted Marmaduke as a regular visitor.
One who loved homework.
Two who regarded reading as a serious infringement of their human rights.
And one English language that had apparently been designed by a committee of people who had never met a four-year-old.
He put the books away.
Tomorrow, there would be more reading.
More flashcards.
More encouragement.
More carefully separated practice sessions.
And almost certainly another discussion about why said was not pronounced the way it looked.
Mr Brand poured himself a final cup of tea.
He had a feeling that learning to read was going to be a very long process.
Especially for the adults.
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