Laura A. Diaz ____ Teach Write

TEACHER, AUTHOR, EDUblogger "I want to (read and) write books that unblock the traffic jam in everyone's mind." ~J. Updike

SpanglishBaby: Keeping my growing sons interested in reading Spanish


” Back in the eighties, there was only one place to find books in English in Costa Rica — where I grew up. It was called simply The Bookshop, and it was small, unassuming, and staffed by friendly English speakers.  And every year, in July, they had a huge sale.  My father would take my brother and me there for our “birthdays” and we would emerge, after what seemed like hours, with piles of books.

Money was never an object, and I understand now how important it was to my father for us to have access to books in our minority language.

It was the place that introduced me to Enid Blyton, Madeleine L’Engle, James Herriott, and countless other authors I remember fondly from my childhood.

I realize now that I had total control over what my boys read when they were smaller — and I always, always read to them in Spanish.

Books I found in Costa Rica, Eric Carle and Dr. Seuss translated into Spanish, and my favorite, lots and lots of children’s poetry, some of which I remember my own mother reading to me when I was little.

For quite a while, in fact, they were literally a captive audience — their cribs were crammed in a room so tiny that I could sit between them and read to them that way.

Once they were able to read on their own, though, that all changed. They simply did not want me to read to them out loud anymore, period.

They were giddy with their ability to pick out books and read them themselves, without my help. For the most part, I’ve been letting them, and I spend their reading time with them while reading myself.

To read the rest of the story go to SpanglishBaby.com

Happy Reading! 🙂

NBC Latino

In my father’s grand tradition of celebrating Thanksgiving in April — or whenever else he felt like it — he and I didn’t celebrate my birthday in May. We did celebrate it with cake or maybe a family gathering. But I always got my big gift, the one I looked forward to all year, in July.

Back in the eighties, there was only one place to find books in English in Costa Rica — where I grew up. It was called simply The Bookshop, and it was small, unassuming, and staffed by friendly English speakers. And every year, in July, they had a huge sale. My father would take my brother and me there for our “birthdays” and we would emerge, after what seemed like hours, with piles of books. Money was never an object, and I understand now how important it was to my father for us to have access…

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