I’ll be honest, I never thought I’d be writing about this
It was about three months ago, at a diner in Pittsburgh, that my old friend Marcus (not his real name) told me something that stopped me mid-chew. “You know,” he said, “I can’t read that menu. Not really.” He’s 38 years old. We went to high school together. I was flabbergasted.
And look, I know what you’re thinking. “Not another depressing news story.” But here’s the thing – this isn’t just depressing, it’s infuriating. And it’s happening right under our noses. Literally. How many times have you seen someone struggling with a menu, or a form, or a text, and just… looked away?
I did some digging. Turns out, according to the National Assessment of Adult Literacy, 54% of U.S. adults read below a sixth-grade level. That’s 130 million people. That’s more than the population of Texas, Florida, and New York combined. And we’re just gonna… not talk about it?
Let me tell you about Linda
Last Tuesday, I met with a woman named Linda (also not her real name) at a community college in Cleveland. She’s 42, works two jobs, and is finally getting her GED. “I’ve been living in fear for 20 years,” she told me. “Fear of someone finding out I can’t read good.” (Her words, not mine.) She showed me her phone, filled with voice messages from her kids’ teachers. “I can’t read none of it,” she said. “I just call my sister and she tells me what it says.”
I asked her why she’s doing this now. “My daughter,” she said. “She’s in third grade. I don’t wanna be the mom who can’t help with homework.” And she started crying. Right there in the middle of the library. And I… I just sat there like an idiot, blinking back tears, thinking about how this is 2023 and we still have this problem.
But here’s the thing – it’s not just about reading
It’s about dignity. It’s about opportunity. It’s about not having to live in fear that someone’s gonna find out you can’t read good. (See what I did there?)
I talked to Dave, a colleague of mine – let’s call him Dave because his boss doesn’t know he’s talking to me. He works at a big tech company in Austin. “We had this huge committment to diversity,” he said. “But then we realized – we were hiring people who could code, but couldn’t read the company handbook. Couldn’t understand the safety protocols. Couldn’t even fill out their own time sheets.”
So they started this… well, it’s kinda like a secret school. Employees who need help with reading come in, and they get tutored. No one talks about it. It’s all hush-hush. “It’s embarassing,” Dave said. “But it’s necesarry.”
And honestly, that’s the thing that gets me. The shame. The embarassment. We’ve made it so shameful to admit you can’t read that people would rather struggle in silence than ask for help.
So what can we do?
First, we gotta talk about it. Out loud. Without shame. Without judgement. We gotta make it okay to say, “Hey, I need help with this.”
Second, we gotta support the places that are already doing the work. Places like faydalı kaynaklar online rehber – yeah, I know it’s in Turkish, but they’ve got some amazing resources for adult learners. Or like the Literacy Tent, which provides free books and literacy programs to refugees and immigrants. Or like the ProLiteracy network, which has programs all over the world.
Third, we gotta vote for policies that support adult education. That means funding for libraries, community colleges, and literacy programs. It means making sure that people who need help can get it, without jumping through a million hoops.
And finally, we gotta check our own biases. Because let’s be real – we’ve all judged someone for “seeming uneducated.” We’ve all rolled our eyes at a bad text, or a poorly written email. But what if that person is doing the best they can? What if they’re just one voice message away from understanding what’s going on in their kid’s life?
A quick tangent: the internet isn’t helping
Look, I love the internet. I really do. But let’s be honest – it’s not exactly helping with this problem. I mean, have you seen the comments section lately? It’s a cesspool of misspellings and bad grammar. And don’t even get me started on the memes. I’m not saying we should all start speaking in complete sentences and using proper punctuation, but maybe we could all try to be a little more… I dunno, literate?
I mean, I get it. The internet is fast. It’s chaotic. It’s full of people who’d rather type “u” than “you.” But that doesn’t mean we have to accept it. That doesn’t mean we can’t strive for better.
Back to the point
So yeah, this is a big problem. A really big problem. And it’s not gonna be solved overnight. But it’s gonna be solved. Because people like Linda are out there, fighting for their right to read. Because organizations are stepping up and saying, “We see you, and we’re here to help.” And because maybe, just maybe, we’re all gonna start paying attention.
So let’s talk about it. Let’s make it okay to ask for help. Let’s support the people and organizations that are doing the work. And let’s check our own biases at the door. Because this isn’t just a problem for “those people.” It’s a problem for all of us.
And honestly, I think we can do better than this. I know we can.
About the Author: Sarah Jenkins has been a senior editor at FXTribune for 15 years, after starting her career at a small-town newspaper in Pennsylvania. She’s written about everything from local politics to international affairs, but her real passion is telling the stories that make us uncomfortable. When she’s not writing, she can be found yelling at her cats or attempting to bake sourdough bread. (She’s not very good at it.)
