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Reizy Reads Out Loud

Ages 6-9 | Story and 9 activities

Reizy loves reading. She reads at breakfast, on the bus, and under the covers with a flashlight. She reads so many books that she keeps a list on her wall.

But there is one kind of reading she does not like: reading out loud.

At home, she can read a whole chapter to her stuffed animals without a single mistake. But in class, when Morah Tziporah says, "Reizy, would you read the next paragraph?" her mouth goes dry and her voice shrinks to a whisper.

"Louder, please," Morah says.

Reizy tries. Her voice shakes. The words blur together. She stumbles on a long word. Someone behind her giggles, just a little.

Her face goes hot. She finishes the paragraph as fast as she can and sits down.

That night, she tells her mother. "I'm a terrible reader."

"You read beautifully. I've heard you."

"Not out loud in class. I mess up. Everyone stares."

Mommy tilts her head. "What if we practice? Not to be perfect, just to be more comfortable."

"How?"

"First, you read to me. Then to your brother. Then to a friend. Each time we add one more listener."

"That sounds scary."

"Small steps," says Mommy.

They start that night. Reizy reads a page of her favorite book out loud to her mother, who sits on the edge of the bed. Her voice is a little shaky, but she gets through.

"Good," says Mommy. "What did that feel like?"

"Fine," says Reizy. "Kind of nice, actually."

The next night, she reads to her little brother Binyomin, who is five. He wiggles and makes faces, but when she does the voice of the troll, he laughs out loud.

On Wednesday, she reads a short story to her best friend Shira over the lunch table. Shira listens with her chin in her hands.

"You make the characters come alive," says Shira. "I could hear the troll."

"Really?"

"Really. You should do this at school."

By Friday, Reizy has read to four different people. Each time, her heart beats a little slower than before.

On the following Monday, Morah Tziporah calls, "Reizy, would you read the next section?"

Reizy's stomach tightens. She stands. She takes a breath, one slow breath, the way she's practiced.

Then she remembers what Mommy has said. "Pretend you're reading to the stuffed animals. Slow and clear."

She reads the first sentence. Her voice is soft but steady. She keeps going. When she comes to a long word, she pauses, sounds it out, and says it. Nobody giggles.

By the third paragraph, she is doing the voices, deep for the old man, bright for the girl. The class leans in.

When she finishes, Morah Tziporah smiles. "Beautiful reading, Reizy. Class, did you notice how she brought the story to life?"

Reizy sits down, cheeks pink, but grinning. The girl next to her whispers, "That was so good."

After school, she tells her mother, "I did it. And I even did the voices."

"I knew you could," says Mommy.

That week, Reizy volunteers to read the story at the kindergarten's Friday circle. The little ones sit cross-legged on the rug, eyes wide, as she brings a talking bear to life.