Words, Words, Words

Today I was thinking about literacy. I've always liked reading and probably spent the majority of my childhood engrossed in books, to the detriment of my social development. I used to hold a book up and read as I walked to the bus in the morning, navigating by peripheral vision. I read in between classes, at lunchtime, and after school instead of doing my homework. When my mom told me to go outside and get some fresh air, I went outside and read. This hasn't been without its consequences. I'm good at spelling and I know a lot of stories, but I'm also introverted and myopic as a myotis.

I think another consequence of excessive reading is that it changes the way you learn. I've found I can't remember people's names unless I write them down and see the name as text (or at least envision it as text in my head). Sometimes when my Spanish amigo is trying to teach me a new word, I can't even repeat it after him, until I've seen it written down. Then suddenly it's clear how to pronounce it. He's not big on writing, himself - when he writes words for me he does so slowly, and sometimes he spells words wrong. I think he's a little mystified about why I can't learn a word by hearing it.

At art galleries, I catch myself looking at titles and captions before I even glance at the painting in front of me - as if I can't appreciate it unless I know the context. This is a little disquieting, seeing as how the world is pictures, not text.

Ironically, this gives me insight into what it might be like to be illiterate. Illiteracy is having people show you text all the time and assume you understand, when that's just not how you learn. As soon as they show you a picture, or a gesture, it's obvious. I guess I'm fortunate that in a society where literate skills are highly valued, I'm oriented the way I am. I wonder if we had only an oral tradition, whether I'd have developed more abilities in that area, or if I'd be considered hopelessly backward.