Library Services

In the 1950's, many minority children born in segregated deep south had to fight to get a good education.

For Bobby, this was the case-literally. Black kids in his small Arkansas town could not attend the white school, so they were bused to a neighboring town's "colored" school. "It was a real rough school," Bobby recalls. "If you weren't from their town, they didn't like you. We fought to get on the bus. Fought on the bus. There was fights in class every day. Even the teachers, who were from that town, too, didn't have much use for us."

Bobby stayed in school through the sixth grade, each year falling further behind and feeling worse about himself. "The teachers just figured if you didn't get it, you weren't gonna get it, I guess," he theorizes.

Even so, Bobby doesn't make excuses. "No, I don't blame the schools and I don't blame the teachers," he insists. "I blame myself. All my life, I thought maybe if I'd applied myself, worked a little harder, things would have been different. But I finally just got disgusted and quit about the sixth grade. I went to work in a factory."

Bobby's parents were educated to the elementary school level, also quitting to go to work. One of five children, some of his siblings made it to high school, and a sister even attended college. "Yeah, she was studying to be a teacher, and she almost finished, too!" he explained with obvious pride. "But she quit to get married and start a family. I told her it was the biggest mistake of her life. She should have waited."

Now a quiet, dignified man, Bobby admits he fell in with a fast crowd after quitting school. "I got in some trouble," he recalls, "and I wanted to leave. I couldn't stay around there, because I knew how I'd end up. I moved north to get a new start."

The move was a good one. He got married and started a family. He found the job he has held for the past 20 years, working, ironically, for a book manufacturer. But he still couldn't read or write.

Like all nonreaders, he took great pains to hide his illiteracy. A quick study, he learned on the job by watching his co-workers. He avoided restaurants, only eating where he knew he could order a hamburger or steak. These were the only meals he ever ordered, always after a convincing, but uncomprehending look at the menu. Forms were taken home, to be filled in by family members. "I didn't want people to know I couldn't read," he admits. "The ones that found out, I couldn't do nothing about. But I did my best to hide it. My children still don't know, to this day! When they were younger, they'd ask me for help with their school work, I'd tell them I didn't have time for all that. It made me feel real bad. Still does."

Without exception, illiteracy is a daily struggle.

When Bobby went to get his driver's license, he learned of a service offered by the Department of Motor Vehicles. In lieu of the written test, the department would provide an oral version on tape, along with a headset and pictogram answer form. But he had to sit in the same classroom as those taking the written test. "I wanted to go when nobody else was testing, you know, private," he remembers. "But every time I went to go over there, a whole group were taking the regular test. I went over there a few times, but finally, I just had to go in. I was nervous to begin with about passing the test, and there I was, the only one in headphones. Everyone was looking, wondering what was wrong with me. It was pretty bad."

In team meeting at work, Bobby sat in fear of the forms and surveys that were often involved. During discussion, he avoided giving his input or answering questions about subjects he knew well because he was afraid of being exposed as a nonreader. As he describes it, he kept himself in the background. Many times he got so nervous and angry with himself, he felt like walking out.

One day on the job, a longtime co-worker asked Bobby to fill in for him, performing a task that required reading. Even though they had worked side-by-side for years, the man did not know Bobby's secret. Normally soft-spoken and helpful, Bobby angrily refused and the two men nearly came to blows. The confrontation ended when Bobby told his friend to do his own job.

Called into his supervisor's office after the incident, Bobby was forced to admit he couldn't read. It was a humiliation that is still painfully evident when Bobby relates the story. He always wanted to learn to read and write. But as the years passed, Bobby thought it was probably too late. Now in his 40's, he believed he was too old to learn.

One evening, he saw a television news story about a man in his 60's who had learned to read and was getting a high school diploma. Bobby was amazed! He thought he was the only nonreader in the world. He thought he was too old! Here this man had proven him wrong on both counts. Time went on, but he couldn't forget that story. He made up his mind to do something about his situation.

"I didn't know what to do, or how to do it. I just knew I had to try," he explains. Most of his co-workers at the plant had no idea Bobby was illiterate. Yet there were a few who did know, and wanted to help. One suggested a popular video phonics program. The company arranged for hour-long study sessions, three times a week, to allow Bobby to work with the program during his shift. He had some success with the program. For the first time in his life, he learned to write the alphabet and he learned that letters represented sounds. After several months of study, he was on his way to reading.

These sessions were handled confidentially, between Bobby and his superiors. But other co-workers soon wondered what he was doing. Why wasn't he on the job during those times? "I felt bad, because while I was in class, someone else had to do my job," he explains. "But I couldn't tell them what I was doing. Even though the company said it was okay, it wasn't fair to the other guys, me taking so much time off. I had to do something different."

The Human Resource Department got Bobby an appointment with the Library Literacy Connection at the local library. He was soon paired with his own tutor, meeting at the library once a week, and doing homework between sessions. When he come into the program, he could write his name, the alphabet, and knew some of the letter sounds. He had a repertoire of about 25 sight words. Within four months, he read his first book, Dr. Seuss' Go Dog Go!, cover to cover. Within six months, his list of sight words expanded to over 200, and continues to grow. He now writes sentences. Those first six months, his tutor says, Bobby was like a sponge, soaking up the shapes and sounds of reading. He continues to make tremendous progress at each session. Though he gets discouraged sometimes, wishing he could learn faster, his attitude is positive. "Come too far to go back now," he grins. "Can't go back!"

One of his goals is to read well enough to travel to new places. " I want to be able to jump in my car and go where I want, when I want and by myself if I want." he explains. "I've always needed someone with me to read the signs and such. Even when I memorized the way, if I hit a detour, I'd get real lost. Asking directions when you can't read is tough. If I couldn't find nobody to go along, I had to stay home or take the bus. But I know one of these days I'll be able to do it myself."

Even in so short a time, literacy has changed Bobby's life considerably. He feels a new self-confidence, both at home and at work. He tackles new jobs eagerly, and speaks out more. He notices many people treat him differently, more positively, even if they didn't know him or his situation. As he put it, "I feel like I can hold myself up with more pride. I got that feeling right away, because I knew at least I was doing something about my reading."

Bobby has a message for non-reading adults: "It's tough out there when you can't read. Real tough. And you get down on yourself. But there is help out there. You just gotta try! Don't just sit around feeling bad about it. Look at me. I'm learning, and I have a whole lot more confidence in myself. I ain't saying it's easy. But you got to try. If you're trying, you're moving ahead. It's never too late. Never."

Interview by Kim Ross-Polito