The Schools That Are No Longer Teaching Kids to Read Books

Recently, an old friend of mine from elementary school ran a hand over my bookshelf, stopped, and said, “You stole this.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did. You totally stole it from school.”

She pulled out my copy of The Once and Future King, and showed me the inside of the front cover. It was stamped: Board of Education, City of New York.

Okay, so I stole it. But I had a good reason. I loved that book so much; I couldn’t bear to return it to the school library.

My grade-school memories are full of books: bulletin boards that tracked the class read-a-thons, hand-written book reports, summer-reading lists. But a student growing up, as I did, in New York City’s District 20, will have a very different experience today. The city has adopted a new literacy regimen under which many public elementary schools are, in effect, giving up the teaching of books—storybooks, narrative nonfiction books, children’s chapter books—altogether. The curriculum is part of an initiative from the Eric Adams administration called, ironically, NYC Reads.

[Read: Why kids aren’t falling in love with reading]

Plummeting reading comprehension is a national problem, but it’s particularly acute in New York City. Half of its third to eighth graders—and 60 percent of those who are Black and Latino—cannot read at grade level. Although COVID drove those numbers down, a big factor has been the much-lambasted pedagogical method known as balanced literacy, which grew out of Columbia University’s Teachers College. Embraced by the city and then much of the nation back in 2003, balanced literacy attempted to teach kids to read not through phonics, but by exposing them to books of their choice in order to foster a love of reading. The appalling literacy numbers speak volumes about the efficacy of this approach.

Elementary schools are now replacing balanced literacy with a different pedagogy, called the science of reading, based on a large body of research finding that learning to read and write well requires phonics, vocabulary development, and content and context comprehension. The Adams administration announced NYC Reads in May 2023 to make sure that schools followed through with this proven approach. “The data shows that young readers learn best when there is explicit phonics instruction, and a young reader cannot experience the joys of reading if they do not know how to read,” a spokesperson for the city’s public schools told me. So far, so good. The schools were given three curricula to choose from, and each district’s superintendent was to make a decision after conferring with principals and parents. Half of the city’s districts were selected for Phase 1 of the rollout and had to adopt a curriculum immediately. Phase 2 schools begin their new curriculum this September.

Although all three curricula are rooted in the science of reading and have met the standards of EdReports—an independent curriculum reviewer—they are not created equal. One, called EL Education, implements the science of reading by using fiction and nonfiction books, such as Hey, Little Ant and The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, to teach students not just to read, but also to talk about real-world issues. Another, called the Wit & Wisdom curriculum, also uses books, such as Stone Soup and Ruby Bridges Goes to School, to “pique curiosity” in students.

But the third, called Into Reading, replaces individual books with one textbook for each grade, all called myBook.

The myBooks are filled with lessons on phonics for younger kids and then, as the grades go up through elementary school, with reading content made up of excerpts of longer narrative texts. MyBook is what is known in education circles as a “decodable text,” but one mom I spoke with, Alina Lewis, likened it to a “Dick and Jane reader.” Where kids used to read and discuss whole books, they now get a few paragraphs at a time and then are prompted to answer a question. Reading has been distilled to practicing for a comprehension exam.

Beginning in September, this is what the majority of elementary-school kids in New York City will be doing. More than two-thirds of its school districts selected the Into Reading curriculum. For those kids, learning to read will no longer revolve around books.

Both the publisher behind Into Reading, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, and the city’s department of education rejected the idea that this curriculum does away with books. “It is blatantly untrue that any of the curriculum options under NYC Reads eliminates engaging with whole books,” the city spokesperson told me, adding that “80 percent of the selections within Into Reading are full-length kids books.” An HMH spokesperson quoted the same statistic to me.

What, exactly, were they referring to? If 80 percent of myBook were made up of cover-to-cover books, no child’s backpack could handle it. In part they seemed to be counting books that a teacher might make available to students. “Into Reading incorporates multiple opportunities for kids to read full-length books at every grade level,” the publisher’s spokesperson wrote in an email. “This includes whole books that are reproduced within the student myBook but also book club/small group novel reading, classroom library reading selections for small and independent reading opportunities, and read-aloud full book selections.” But teachers, parents, and students say that, in practice, the curriculum doesn’t leave much time for such opportunities.

When I asked for examples of books that were included within myBook itself, the city spokesperson pointed to Kitoto the Mighty, by Tololwa M. Mollel, for fourth grade. Let me tell you: I have now read Kitoto the Mighty. It’s lovely, but it’s basically a picture book. It’s a far cry from a chapter book that builds reading stamina like, say, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing—or a chapter-book series like Alvin Ho that might keep kids devouring book after book for weeks.

One sunny day in the spring of 2023, before the Adams mandate went into effect, I hopped on the train not toward Manhattan, as usual, but farther into Brooklyn. I was heading to speak to a fifth-grade writing class at P.S. 503 in Sunset Park, close to where I grew up. The principal, Nina Demos, and I had been first-grade classmates, and had been in touch off and on throughout our lives.

P.S. 503 is located in District 20, the same district that Demos and I had attended as girls. It is now, as it was then, composed primarily of lower-income, Latino families, many of them recent immigrants. When I visited, the students had been writing their own books—graphic novels or chapter books about Latino superheroes, or immigrant kids who missed their old soccer team. We talked about the difference between imagining a draft and the work of revision. They read passages from their stories and peppered me with questions about writing a novel and what Sunset Park was like when I was a kid.

But that was before the new curriculum, which District 20 began teaching in September. Theoretically, Into Reading gives teachers some independence to shape their own classes, but in District 20, teachers and parents say, the rollout has been draconian. Teachers have been subject to constant evaluation to ensure that they are teaching Into Reading purely, while students face frequent assessments to ensure that they’re meeting each benchmark. Little room is left over for class visitors or story time or exploratory reading.

Alina Lewis is a District 20 parent—her children go not to P.S. 503 but to the district’s gifted-and-talented school, called Brooklyn School of Inquiry—and she has led a fierce opposition to the new curriculum. She told me how the first year under Into Reading went at BSI: “They’d come in from the [Department of Education], and they’d literally go into the classrooms and make sure there were no remnants” of the old style of teaching.  

BSI was an outlier: Before the switch, more than 85 percent of students were already reading at or above grade level. The data for this year aren’t in yet, but the student reviews are: They miss books. And they’re bored.

At a DOE forum in March, students from BSI’s middle school testified about their experience with the Into Reading curriculum. “It didn’t even feel like learning,” Carlo Murray said. It “felt like the state test prep that we do every year.”

“We are this far into the school year,” Kira Odenhal said, “and unfortunately we are only reading our second whole book.”

Though the city’s spokesperson told me that decisions were made after “a rigorous engagement process with superintendents and communities,” many District 20 parents felt blindsided by the new curriculum. When BSI’s principal announced the district’s choice at the school’s May PTA meeting, Lewis told me, “the parents went nuts; we flipped out.”

Lewis was well-versed in all three curricula. A former teacher and school administrator, she was a doctoral candidate in educational theory and practice when the mandate came down. Equipped with her experience and research skills, and without a 9 to 5 to tie her down, Lewis organized a campaign to obtain a waiver for Brooklyn School of Inquiry. The students were so disenchanted with the new curriculum that enlisting other families to her cause was easy.

They wrote letters, met with the superintendent, attended meetings of the DOE—including the one in which children testified about missing books—and courted local press. And they won: This fall, Brooklyn School of Inquiry will be allowed to return to its own curriculum.

Few other Phase 1 schools have access to a parent with as much time and know-how as Lewis. If you look at a map of Phase 1, you’ll see that it includes many districts in the city’s most heavily immigrant, Black, and brown areas. Just a single district in Manhattan is in Phase 1, and it’s the one that covers parts of Harlem, East Harlem, and Spanish Harlem. In Brooklyn, Phase 1 skipped over District 15, which includes wealthy Park Slope, and District 13, among the highest ranked in the city, which runs through the posh areas of DUMBO, Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Prospect Heights, and what, to me, feels like the most gentrified slice of Bed-Stuy. I know because I live there.

“It’s not an accident who is Phase 1 and Phase 2,” Lewis told me. “I think we took them by surprise because they literally sought all the either Black and brown districts or the heavily immigrant districts. And they figured they’d be quiet.”

The DOE disputes this. “The socioeconomic demographics of a district were not among the deciding factors,” the department’s spokesperson told me. Instead, districts were chosen for Phase 1 because they had had greater exposure to the new way of teaching already, she said: “The districts participating in Phase 2 were districts where fewer schools were familiar with the new curriculum and therefore benefited greatly from the additional training time.” It’s true that many teachers had already started relying on Into Reading. This is, in part, because during the pandemic, when teachers were scrambling for materials, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt made all of its courses free online. But the city’s rationale raises the question: If the curriculum is so good, and many schools are already using it, why are their reading scores so low?    

The rollout in District 13 will be very different from that of District 20. Being in Phase 2 gave the schools an extra year to carefully choose their curriculum. The superintendent, Meghan Dunn, held focus groups with parents, meetings with principals, and even sit-downs with representatives from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt and the nonprofit groups that created the other two curricula, so everyone could better understand which would align with the district’s needs. Dunn met with at least one school’s PTA to assure them that teachers would still have flexibility in implementing whatever was chosen.

That school, P.S. 11, like Brooklyn School for Inquiry, also had high reading rates, and parents were deeply concerned about fixing something that wasn’t broken. Unlike many other affluent city school districts, District 13 is notably diverse, and wanted to be sure that the chosen curriculum would be sensitive to that. In January, Dunn sent parents a letter announcing that she had selected the EL Education curriculum and outlining the process behind the decision. She explained that teachers would begin curriculum training immediately—giving them an additional five months of professional development that teachers at Phase 1 schools were not afforded. Her letter closed with her commitment to fostering “proficiency and a love of reading and writing.”

The Park Slope district went with Wit & Wisdom. So did District 2, the one that includes the Upper East Side. Not one of the city’s three top-ranking districts selected Into Reading. But 22 of the city’s 32 total districts did.

This is especially surprising given that a 2022 analysis by New York University had criticized Into Reading for lacking stories about or written by people of color. Across the grade-level texts, for every 100 main characters, only 18 were Black, 13 were Asian, and 12 were Latino. The texts “used language and tone that demeaned and dehumanized Black, Indigenous and characters of color, while encouraging empathy and connection with White characters,” the report concluded. For a school system that is 65 percent Black or Hispanic, and 17 percent Asian, that is a pretty damning critique. (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt released a statement saying that the report was “deeply flawed” and “mischaracterizes Into Reading as a whole.”)

How, then, to account for the popularity of this curriculum among school administrators? One answer might simply be good marketing. Another might be ease.

As a large corporation, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt was probably better positioned to advertise its curriculum than the nonprofits that own EL Education and Wit & Wisdom were. Into Reading was already familiar to many teachers because of its availability during the pandemic. Those who hadn’t yet used it were likely reassured by its reputation as the easiest for teachers to unpack, which was a significant upside, given the short window Phase 1 schools had for teacher training.

When asked about this short window, the DOE replied that Phase 1 teachers all “received professional development throughout Spring 2023, with makeup sessions during the summer” and “individual coaching” through the school year. But teachers have been vocal about feeling unprepared, according to the education site Chalkbeat.

Into Reading is also the only curriculum available fully in English and Spanish, making it a reasonable choice for a school with a lot of ESL students (though this is a particularly cruel irony in light of the troubling findings about its racial bias).

P.S. 503 is not a gifted-and-talented school. Its student body includes ESL learners and students with learning disabilities. About 47 percent of its students score proficient in reading. This year, according to Demos, the principal, the data look comparable or slightly better than the year before. But she notes that that has been the case every year for the past nine years. Demos has criticisms of Into Reading, but she admitted that “there are aspects of it that I appreciate more than I thought I was going to.” She said that its insistence on assessments and standards seems helpful for students who are reading close to, but not quite at, grade level. “And I do think that that is something that I feel is successful, and that we as a school need to reflect on. Like, were our practices in the past holding students in that category back? Has this curriculum helped us push the rigor for those students?”

The improvement among those mid-performing readers is proof that the shift away from balanced literacy toward a science-based approach is correct. But New York could have done so much better than this rushed rollout, the loss of teacher autonomy, and above all the depressing myBook itself.

“The requirements and the mandates are so excessive,” Demos said, that teachers have no time to help students engage with books for pleasure. This was something the BSI students complained about during their public hearing. Demos recounted a parent saying that her child is “doing really well with this curriculum,” but that the child wasn’t having the experience of “falling in love with a series, falling in love with reading.” (One wonders whether Houghton Mifflin Harcourt thought this through: Training the next generation out of the habit of reading books doesn’t seem to be in a book publisher’s best long-term interest.)

[Read: How to show kids the joy of reading]

When we were kids, I used to go over Demos’s house, and we’d lie in her room and read. She introduced me to the Little House books. We’d talk about Laura and Mary Ingalls as if they were our friends, too, as if we lived not in Brooklyn but out there on the prairie. When Demos talks about kids losing their love of reading, the loss feels visceral to me. I had some amazing teachers over my years in public school, but I had some duds too. The books we read expanded my mind, regardless of who was in front of my class.

Knowing how to read is crucial, but loving to read is a form of power, one that helps kids grow into curious, engaged, and empathetic adults. And it shouldn’t belong only to New York’s most privileged students.