English Only: One in eight Nashvillians can't read
by Tracy Moore
- Photo: Eric England
- Seeds of Knowledge Tutor Julie Kramer and learner Ron Richardson
Before launching his crusade to have all government business conducted in English, Councilman Eric Crafton might have considered the depth of his problem. According to the National Center for Education Statistics, one in eight Nashvillians couldn't even read the referendum. Or fill out a job application. Or decipher TV Guide.
Here in the Athens of the South, we boast one of the highest illiteracy rates in the country. But while José had better be able to read, Johnny still can't.
Take Ron Richardson, who dropped out of the eighth grade in the days before proficiency tests. He left with only a third-grade reading level.
"Back then, if you behaved yourself in school, they just put you right through," the 56-year-old says in a slow drawl. Until two years ago, he couldn't write a check, read a map, or follow road signs. He bought groceries by looking at the pictures on the cans.
This isn't just Richardson's problem. Because illiteracy is so widespread, Tennessee spends millions to pay for the consequences.
"One in eight—it's a frightening statistic," says Meg Nugent of the Nashville Literacy Council. "Eighty or 90 percent of people in prison read at very low levels. Low-level readers also tend to live in poverty. They have higher health problems because they don't read preventive literature. Some overdose their children accidentally because they can't read medicine bottles."
The Cohn Adult Learning Center off Charlotte Pike is the only place in town offering free tutoring to those at or below a sixth-grade reading level, but it's busting at the seams. Nugent blames the overflow on the economy—a surge not seen since 9/11—as people scramble to hike their value in pursuit of increasingly scarce jobs. And while half of the students are immigrants, the other half were born in the good ole U.S.A.
"It's the people who can't get jobs because they can't fill out the application, or people who can't get promoted because they can't read at the next level," says Nugent of her clients.
Many are from Richardson's era, the days when employers preferred sturdy backs to someone who comprehended Huck Finn. But those jobs are gone, replaced by entry-level work that requires basic reading and computer skills. Custodians must be able to read instructions on the chemicals in the storage closet, and even McDonald's has a two-page job application.
Because of all this, Nugent is armed with heartbreaking stories to tell. Take the guy who refused promotion after promotion at an auto factory because he couldn't handle the extra paperwork.
"He kept telling his boss he just wanted to be one of the guys," she says with a heard-it-all shrug. "He'd even pretend to read the paper every day on the job to fake people out. He did it so often, he actually got written up for reading the paper on the job."
But for those who want help, it may be a long wait. Nugent currently has a 60-person waiting list that constantly repopulates due to the shortage of tutors. When it comes to charity, people tend toward the cute or clearly tragic.
"Kids and puppies, people want to help," Nugent says. "But adults? At a lower economic level? That doesn't add up to a lot of attention."
And like victims of rape or domestic violence, those hurting the worst will go to great lengths to keep their troubles hidden.
"The stories you hear are so incredible," Nugent says. "They mostly just pretend they're reading, and because we all assume everyone reads, no one is really looking for that. But if they're asked to read a typical thing, they say, 'Oh, I forgot my glasses—could you read that for me?' "
Divorce forced Richardson into the world of words. His wife of 37 years took care of the bills and grocery shopping. When they split, he suddenly found himself staring at mail he didn't understand.
"That's when I got into a mess," he says, shaking his head. "I couldn't make out checks or bills or anything like that. I couldn't write my granddaughter a letter. I'd get my granddaughter to make my checks out. So a neighbor told me about this place."
Edwin Lewis had a similar problem. After decades of working at laundries and restaurants, he was hoping to improve his skills. He bought tapes that help you sound the words out, but it wasn't sticking.
"I just decided one day I wanted a better life," he says. "It would have been nice to be a lawyer. I think if I had gotten all of my education, I really could have done something. I really could have made some changes."
Yet these two men are exceptions to the rule. Most are too ashamed of their shortcomings for public confession. "You can't underestimate how difficult it is to come here and admit to strangers that you don't know how to read," Nugent says. "We get stood up a lot for appointments, and they eventually come in and tell us they just kept driving around outside, too scared to come in. We've seen big grown burly men just sobbing when they come in here, they're so terrified."
But after 12 years of one-on-one tutoring, Lewis isn't so terrified. "Now I'm not afraid to pick up a book anymore," he says.
And Richardson has finally found his way through the complex labyrinth that is the English language. He'd never read a book in his life until about a year ago. "Now I'm doing a lot better," he says. "I can make my bills out. I can write my grandchildren letters and understand their letters. I can go to the grocery store and not have to just look at the pictures."
His tutor Barbara recently gave him a copy of Old Yeller. "I stayed up all night to finish it," he says with a chuckle. "I cried at the end."
To volunteer, call 298-8060, or visit nashvilleliteracy.org.
Email tmoore@nashvillescene.com, or call 615-744-3362.
Comments (1)
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Gee, I really feel for this poor guy. As I've stated before, we waste an incredible amount of money on dummies who don't apply themselves. The idea that people are entitled to an education has got to go! Youngsters don't appreciate how lucky they are to be able to sit in that classroom. The time for accountability is now. If you don't achieve academically, you go into a job program after the eighth grade. If books don't interest you, then you can push a broom for a living. Unless, of course, you can somehow parlay your video game skills into a lucrative career! If public schools can't teach basic survival-level reading by fifth grade, we the taxpayers are being ripped off! How about some accountability there?
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