Cruelest Summer (Ever!): Reading Rainbow

If you had asked an eight-year-old me what my goal in life was, I very well might have told you that I wanted to appear on Reading Rainbow as a reviewer.  I envied those kids, wanted to be like them.  I just didn't know how to get on the show.  I never did figure it out.  I am still severely saddened by the fact an appearance on Reading Rainbow cannot be one of those 25 random facts about me.  It might be a greater disappointment than my not winning Nickelodeon's "Meet The Jets" contest back in '86.  I still think my mom didn't get my postcard to the USPS on time.  (I'll never forgive her.)  I also never won those coveted 5 minutes in a Toys R Us.  But that's another story.

I practiced for my television appearance, though.  I'd sit at Nannie's dining room table, armed with a kids book, doing my best imitation of the kids who were lucky and savvy enough to land a gig on the show.  I'd retell the juicy nuggets of the story in the perkiest, most excited whisper I could muster; I didn't want to disturb Nannie and Papa watching the CBS stories.  After I concluded my synopsis with my version of "...well, you'll just have to read the book to find out!" I'd smile into the imaginary camera recording my audition and hear the three-note "dundunnnDUN!" in my head.  All right, Mr. Burton, I'm ready for my close-up.

I'd like to think that I wasn't the only kid who made believe that she would get her first taste of celebrity on Reading Rainbow.  Of course, child stardom is fleeting, and had I made my debut on RR, who knows what might've happened?  The fact that I was funny looking as hell probably prevented me from a brief career as a child star, followed by a steep fall full of drug habits and stints in rehab.  But RR was about so much more than being on television; it was about loving to read--the worlds books would take you to, the adventures you would take.  And I am so sad that the next generation of young readers will not have LeVar Burton as a companion on these literary expeditions.

After 26 years, PBS is over the Rainbow.  No one wants to fund the show's broadcast.  To add, times are changing.  According to an NPR story on the cancellation, the end of the show "can also be traced to a shift in the philosophy of educational television programming. The change started with the Department of Education under the Bush administration, he explains, which wanted to see a much heavier focus on the basic tools of reading — like phonics and spelling."  So, in other words, how can one love to read if one does not know how to read?

I never thought those two things were mutually exclusive.  But since I'm not an education expert, just a person who has always loved to read, I guess I'm wrong.  I can only speak for myself, but I've never wanted to learn how or continue to do something I didn't (think I would) love.  I think I became a good reader because I love doing it.  I was surrounded by folks--like Nannie, Grandma Charlotte, and my mom--and shows like RR that made reading exciting, and frankly, cool.

Learning how is never enough.  I learned how to solve an equation, but I don't do it anymore because it's no fun.  Eventually I will forget how to solve for x.  Part of that has to do with how unnecessary algebra is in my life, but it also speaks to the excruciating pain I feel when I see letters and numbers together.  I never learned to love it as I learned to do it. 

Even though I see folks with books all the time, I can't shake the feeling that people don't read anymore.  With things like Kindle (book purists like m'self [should] find these machines sacrilegious)  and libraries providing so many other services you forget they do things like lend books, I get the sense that so many of us never learned to love and appreciate the feel and smell of books, the way the words appear on the page.  And I'm afraid that with the absence of shows like RR we'll create a generation of kids who will only think of reading as fundamental, a necessary ill of life.  As someone who has dedicated her life to unlocking the worlds that literature holds, I can't stand the thought.  I already deal with an English department full of folks who don't seem to love reading.  I need a reason to continue to believe that somewhere someone's young, new romance with reading is beginning.  The end of RR is a deluge of water upon my torch.

I will cherish my RR memories, and keep practicing my book reviews.  It's all I have now.  Still, I can go anywhere--including back to childhood.  Reading Rainbow says so.