Richmond Times-Dispatch

Published: January 01, 2012

Updated: January 01, 2012

"Learning To READ as an Adult Takes Persistence and Courage"

Out of necessity and pride, William B. Mitchell became a master of deception.

He would say he forgot his glasses. He would rub his eyes. He'd make a joke. He'd change the subject. He said the words on the page were too small.

Whatever it took, Mitchell wasn't about to let you know he couldn't read.

"I've been memorizing things all my life," said the 54-year-old Mitchell. "I could get my family or friends to read something, and after they read it, it would stick in my head. "But now I'm getting too old," he said with a laugh. "I can't keep that stuff in my head."

So Mitchell decided he would take the brave first step in getting help: He would admit to strangers he couldn't read.

"For years I survived by fooling others," he said, "but I was only fooling myself."

The phones at The READ Center of Richmond (Reading and Education for Adult Development) generally ring with more frequency soon after Jan. 1, said Harriet A. Scruggs, the center's executive director. Learning to read is a good New Year's resolution. With unemployment relatively high and jobs scarce, the calls might come at an even faster rate, and the voices on the other end likely will carry greater urgency, as they have in recent months.

"Impassioned pleas," as Scruggs described them.

"They're saying things like, 'I don't have a job, and I'm having difficulty filling out applications,' " Scruggs said. "One man called and said, 'I went for an interview, and I was ready to answer the questions until they gave me the form.'"

But applying for jobs is not the only reason people who read poorly or not at all show up at the center, Scruggs said. They want to read stories to their children and help with homework, they want to be able to read labels on medicine bottles, weather bulletins and billboards, the basic joys and requirements of everyday life that anyone who can read takes for granted.

According to the National Assessment of Adult Literacy's last report in 2005, 30 million adults scored at the "below basic" level, which means they can sign their name, read and understand short, simple documents, but cannot comprehend an article in the newspaper or balance a checkbook.

An estimated 57,000 adults in The READ Center's service area, the greater Richmond region, did not graduate from high school, Scruggs said, citing numbers from an American Community Survey. That doesn't necessarily offer a measurement of literacy, but it does show "educational attainment," as it's called in census data, which has a high correlation with unemployment, poverty and other economic and even health disparities.

And many of those people do have difficulty reading. The READ Center, a not-for-profit organization that started almost 30 years ago as the Literacy Council of Metropolitan Richmond, provides free literacy programs, focusing generally on those who read below the fifth-grade level, Scruggs said. She estimates 80 percent to 85 percent of the adults who come to the center have difficulty reading street signs.

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The center, which has a paid staff of eight and a roster of more than 100 volunteers, served almost 400 adults last academic year and has more on a waiting list — the result of an increase in the number of those wanting instruction as well as a lack of resources in a difficult economy. The center relies on financial support from corporate and private foundations, individuals and municipalities.

The center holds small classes, generally twice a week, at locations across the area, such as the Richmond Public Library's main branch on Franklin Street. Much of the challenge is getting people in the door — it takes courage to publicly declare you need that sort of help — but that is only the beginning. Many participants cannot attend every class; real life gets in the way in the form of jobs, sick children and aging parents. That's OK, Scruggs said.

"We support it," she said, "because we know that life happens."

They also know the slightest discouragement could dampen tentative enthusiasm for school work — many of the students have been out of organized education for decades — so the instructors serve as cheerleaders, too. They realize the work and time required to make significant gains. Studies have found students need 100 to 150 hours of literacy instruction to raise their skills by one grade level, Scruggs said.

Those who come to the center for help are "very brave people," said Toni OBrion, a volunteer who has been tutoring adults for 25 years and formerly taught first grade.

"To come in and say you can't do basic things like write a check or read a map, that takes guts," OBrion said.

Some of her students can read, but not well, while others don't even know the alphabet. In those cases, she starts with the sounds of the letters and their shapes, and goes from there. It takes time and effort, including work outside of class, but when the students begin to read it's a moment of magic for all involved.

"I'll tell you what, when they look at me with that big grin on their face because they've got it and they know they've got it, it's like Christmas morning," she said. "There couldn't be anything that makes me happier. It's just wonderful."

* * * * *

As a kid, William Mitchell was big for his age and he stuttered. Other kids teased him mercilessly. He spent more time in fights and in the principal's office than he did learning. Add upheaval in his home life, and he was not long for school. He dropped out after the third grade.

His grandfather ran a demolition company, and Mitchell started working with him in the summers, doing man's work by the time he was 11 or 12, helping put food on his family's table. Working was never a problem. Mitchell has worked in manufacturing and food-service, always taking ground-level jobs and hiding the fact he couldn't read. He would ask a family member to fill out job applications or use common sense to fix a broken machine when he couldn't read the instructions.

"If I saw you doing plumbing work, I would watch you," said Mitchell, now unable to work because of a medical disability. "Anything you do, I would look at you and pick up things quickly. That's how I survived."

Not knowing how to read means you must hustle to make your way in the world, which Mitchell has done. But it also means you can wind up operating on the edge, and he has done that, too. He's been cheated out of money because he couldn't read and, he acknowledged, he has had brushes with the law. He once saw the inside of a jail cell and decided, "It wasn't my cup of tea."

He met his wife, Denise, more than a decade ago, and didn't tell her he couldn't read. The truth gradually emerged, in part because her son, Donovan, was learning to read, and Mitchell couldn't keep up.

"I would try, but he was outdoing me," Mitchell said. "I said, 'Something about this picture isn't right at all.' "

* * * * *

Mitchell tried attending adult learning centers — "I got tired of lying to myself; I said 'I have to improve myself' " — but his attendance was spotty, and he made little progress. A principal suggested The READ Center. So, in his early 50s, Mitchell went to school to learn to read.

He arrived reading at not even a first-grade level, said OBrion, who has been among the teachers instructing him in the basics, starting with understanding the letters of the alphabet and their sounds. The going has been slow but steady, and over the course of several years, Mitchell has made great strides. OBrion praised his persistence, his consistent attendance and his willingness to take an armful of books and do homework. Mitchell said he appreciates the push he has gotten from his instructors and from his wife, who doesn't let him off the hook at home.

"Turn off the TV!" she often says. "We're all going to read."

Denise Mitchell said she is proud of her husband's efforts and progress, and she is impressed by how far he has come. He's learning to read and break down bigger words all the time, she said. A recent one, as he battled a blood clot in his lung, was treatment.

"I think sometimes he surprises himself," she said.

Mitchell said learning to read has given him greater confidence, helped his speaking ability and "opened different doors for me."

"I'm not going to say I read real fast," Mitchell said. "But I know on the inside it's getting better."

wlohmann@timesdispatch.com (804) 649-6639