Reading, meaning and motivation

When reading becomes a battleground, we risk forgetting why it matters in the first place.

During my recent visit to the US to attend the FullScale Symposium I became increasingly aware of the parallels that exist in the US and NZ, in the debates occurring about the so-called science of reading. In the United States, questions about how children learn to read have been swept into political currents that reach far beyond classrooms, as governments legislate instructional methods and redefine what counts as “evidence.”

An article I read this week traced how a narrow, technocratic notion of science has been used to justify sweeping changes to reading instruction. Its author argues that the National Reading Panel’s 2000 meta-analyses (based on just 38 phonics and 27 phonemic-awareness studies) were never robust enough to underpin federal or state policy. Yet these findings have since been treated as settled truth, driving what critics describe as an ideologically motivated reshaping of U.S. public education under the banner of “evidence-based reform” (Camilli et al., 2006 Meta‐Analysis and Reading Policy: Perspectives on Teaching Children to Read).

When I shared the piece with a colleague, her response brought the issue closer to home. She reminded me that here in Aotearoa New Zealand we’ve walked a different path, and that there’s much at stake if we lose sight of it.

She pointed to the work of Dame Marie Clay, whose groundbreaking research in early literacy emphasised reading as a message-getting, problem-solving activity. Clay’s approach, and the Reading Recovery programme it inspired, rest on close observation of learners, meaning-making, and the integration of reading and writing. Later, Lucy Calkins’ Reading Workshop model drew on similar principles, positioning students as active constructors of meaning. Both have recently become targets of high-profile media and political attacks, accused of neglecting phonics in favour of ideology.

As my colleague put it, “I watched the harm done to Lucy Calkins. Her work was loved like Marie Clay’s, and people who should have known better just attacked her.” What we’re seeing isn’t simply a pedagogical disagreement; it’s a struggle over who defines knowledge, and whose voices count.

Closer to home, Professor Stuart McNaughton, in his 2022 meta-analysis as Chief Science Advisor for Education, concluded that motivation – the desire to read – was the most significant factor influencing literacy outcomes (Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet, 2022). That insight resonates deeply with our own history. As Dr Hana O’Regan reminded us in her ULearn18 keynote, nineteenth-century Māori communities achieved extraordinarily high levels of literacy in both English and te reo Māori, driven by purpose, pride, and the understanding that literacy was a tool for empowerment. She warned, “If our cultural belief as learners is not first rectified by providing content that addresses the gaps in our history then we are unlikely to see the kind of shift that’s required to change our educational statistics.”

These perspectives are a powerful reminder that literacy is never just technical – it’s cultural, relational, and moral. Phonics matters, of course, but only as one part of a much larger whole. When policy narrows reading to decoding sounds, we risk losing the very reasons people learn to read: to make sense of their world, to find identity and belonging, and to participate fully in civic life.

The lesson from both the U.S. and our own history is that reading instruction is never neutral. It reflects values about what kind of learners – and what kind of citizens – we want to cultivate. Our challenge is to keep the conversation open, balanced, and grounded in evidence that honours the full complexity of how children learn to read and write.

Now more than ever, educators need to reclaim the narrative about what literacy is for. Let’s champion balanced, evidence-informed practice that honours children as meaning-makers and celebrates the joy of reading.