Books are one of my lifelong passions. I enjoy the heft of them in my hand. I like turning pages and scanning the black-on-white text. I like flipping forwards and backwards quickly through a book, anticipating and revising my reading.

I love the experiences that I have with books. Sitting outside on a fall day, a worn copy of The Lord of the Rings propped on my knee. Reading Dracula aloud by flashlight on a night near the end of October. Tucking my daughter in at night and watching her eyes grow huge as we read about Winnie-the-Pooh’s attempt to capture a Woozle.

I am so sad when I encounter a young person who cannot read. I am sorry for the experiences that they have missed and will continue to miss. I can accept that some people will not have the same love of books that I do; I can’t accept that they haven’t had the chance to make a choice.

It has been one of the most surprising things about this career: regularly meeting high school students who cannot functionally read an article or a story. And then when I watch those same students march across the stage to get their diploma, despite their continued illiteracy, I am disappointed and frustrated. Somewhere we have decided that ’student success’ equals ‘getting a credit or diploma’, and we’ve glorified that version of success to the extent that we are willing to graduate someone who is illiterate.

Susan’s reflection on the qualities and practices of excellent reading teachers has inspired me to consider my own teaching practice in light of those. My goal: high school graduates who can decide for themselves whether or not Barney’s Version is a great Canadian novel.