I was really interested in Brandt’s “Sponsors of Literacy.”  It is something I haven’t really considered before– how literate we are is not always an individual choice, but a matter of access.  I think sponsors as individual people are the most influential.  When I think of my literacy in terms of sponsorship, my mind immediately flips to the people who influenced and inspired me– usually teachers.  I must say, as a future teacher, it is encouraging to look back on the difference teachers made in my life and I feel comfortable with my role models.

As far as terms of access go, I have an interestingly true story to consider in light of Brandt’s information regarding sponsorship.  My mother is a special education teacher for K-5.  One of her students is an autistic.  This child is mid-level on the spectrum, neither high functioning nor super low functioning.  What I found interesting was how the parent’s handle their child’s approach to literacy.

Most parents of autistic children push to have them integrated into society as much as possible.  They want the child in a classroom as much as possible, and learning information at the highest level possible.  But this student’s parents approached it differently. When developing the student’s IEP, the father pushed to ignore mathematics and wanted a focus on literary technology.  He said he didn’t want to waste time on math– teach him how to use a calculator.  He didn’t want to focus on spelling– teach him how to use spell check.  Instead of a focus on basic California standards, this father stressed how he wanted his child to be real world literate as possible.  He wants him to know how to use a computer and an iPad.  This father said he wants his child to be able to function in the world at the job level– in essence, teach the child to be employable.  Technology and associated literacy are what he needs to know.  This father said that “I want him to learn the technology of his generation.”

To me, that is a powerful sponsor.  That parent is changing his child’s life in ways that we have yet to see, but you can bet your socks that his entire life will be better with a focus on functional literacy.  When I look at Brandt’s studies on people and their literary practices in terms of access, this story seems like it would fit within her study.  One middle class parent is pushing for new technology to be used in school.  The technology they cannot afford at home– iPads, fancy computers, etc– is made more important in the school setting.

Most of my mother’s students do not have access to computers at home.  Sitting in the fancy college library filled with computers, printers, copiers, and more, that seems crazy.  But many families, especially in rural areas, do not have the luxury of excess technology.  Those students are the ones that end up in my mother’s class, put behind in school because of limited access to the technology that would enhance their literary practices.  As sad as that is, I think that shows us, as future educators, where our focus should be.  Literacy isn’t just the pen and paper– computers and advancing technology have paved a new road that we must make sure our students have access to, or they will fall by the wayside and be in a muddy rut for the rest of their lives.

Literacy in a social context can cause problems.  Williams discusses the paranoia of the perpetual societal fear of an illiterate generation.  While these fears are ungrounded and mostly fears of change, it does raise questions about literacy as a whole.  Why is there a societal “standard of literacy” that is merely a line of average standards that are unchanging? Societal literacy is all about sponsorship, according to Brandt.  Those accessibility of local sponsors have the biggest affect on literacy in the social context.

On an individual level, I think Schribner was accurate in the assessment of literacy as power.  The elite groups of society have access to higher levels of sponsorship such as private education that sets the standard level of literacy that is not necessarily accurately applied to individuals across all levels of society.

One good example is terminology.  Doctors and medical professionals have their own terminology that basically results in their own language unknown to most individuals outside of the medical sphere.  As a medication technician, I have limited training in medical terms.  But what I find interesting is whenever I mention my job title, people automatically assume I can speak like a doctor who went to medical school for four years, when, in reality, I spent eight hours training on California licensing policies.  But it is very segregating when I am assumed to be at a higher level of medical literacy than I am, or even should be.  And when I explain to these doctors that I am not fluent in their language and merely know a few phrases, the response I get is a very pointed “oh,” and then they go back to talking to me as if I am a four year old unable to understand four syllable words.  This exclusive social literate club really creates a higher problem of individuals at different levels of literacy across all social levels.

I started to read—I mean really read—when I was about four or five. I was in a time out (where I spent the majority of my childhood) in a separate room than my sister. I was bored, and she was not. She was allowed to read in time outs and I found that unfair. I wasn’t allowed to play with my brothers anymore—I got in trouble for punching somebody. But since she got to read in time outs and found it enjoyable, I decided I was going to be a better reader than her and have more fun in my inevitable time outs. So I picked up a book, I think it was one of her books, and I started to read. And I refused to come out of my room until I was done reading and I liked it better than she did. IN school, I was mocked because I had learned early to read silently (we had to be quiet during time outs.) “Teacher! Stephanie isn’t really reading!!!!” rang through the classroom day after day. My teacher continued to patiently explain that yes, Stephanie was actually reading “adult style.” But I won, and to this day I continue to read more than my sister. Throughout childhood I insisted that I could read the same books as her, despite her genius level of intelligence and the three-grade difference. By the time I got to fifth grade, my AR list consisted of Gone With the Wind and Jane Austen novels—mostly because they were worth the most points. I like a challenge, and I like to win!