Photo for representational purpose.
Credit: iStock photo
Conversations with teachers, whether in bustling city classrooms or quiet rural schools, often return to the same questions: How do children learn to read? What keeps them reading? And what does a “reading culture” actually look like in a society marked by deep inequalities and rapid technological change?
These are not questions of technique but about the environments we create, the languages we value, and the time we allow for reflection in an increasingly hurried world.
Reading and writing began as an attempt to understand and organise the world. In ancient Mesopotamia, a few marks pressed into clay set in motion new ways of thinking. Those who could read these early scripts held a special place in society; their skills were considered powerful enough to border on the sacred.
Seen through this lens, a reading culture is not merely a set of school practices or library periods. It is part of a long human habit of making sense of life — of finding meaning in symbols, sounds, and stories.
Early texts were meant to be spoken aloud. For centuries, most people accessed written knowledge not by reading silently but by listening collectively. This tradition survives in our classrooms and homes. Reading aloud helps children become fluent readers; adults still gather around stories during festivals and community events. The human voice remains central to how reading is shared.
Reading also slows us down. It teaches attention, offers companionship, and makes room for reflection — gifts that feel increasingly rare.
Modern research confirms what many teachers intuitively know. Learning to read is not simply about “cracking the code.” Children’s backgrounds, languages, and exposure to print shape how confidently they move from letters to meaning.
English poses unique challenges. While children learn that letters map onto sounds, they soon encounter exceptions — said, one, school, was, give. Without support, the gap widens quickly between those with access to books and those without.
A large study across low- and middle-income countries shows a clear pattern: children often learn to decode words, but comprehension remains a struggle. Some children grow up surrounded by books and conversations; others grow up in homes where print is scarce or absent.
In India, these divides can be stark. A child in a remote tribal hamlet may acquire rich cultural knowledge through oral storytelling but have limited access to print. Meanwhile, urban learners may be surrounded by texts but lack the time or support to read meaningfully. As literacy improves overall, those with more resources tend to move ahead faster. The gap widens quietly.
AI’s presence in classrooms is expanding quickly. In Ghana, open-source tools now assess oral reading with striking accuracy. In a western Indian state, AI-based assessments have been rolled out in thousands of schools to identify early reading gaps. Technology can generate storybooks in home languages, support teachers, and make assessments more accessible.
But AI can also magnify existing divides. Communities with limited connectivity or devices lag further behind. The question is no longer whether AI can help with reading — it can. The question is who benefits, and who is left out.
Across schools, one pattern stands out: teachers who read for themselves create classrooms where reading feels alive. They share favourite lines, point children to new books, and treat reading as a joyful habit rather than a task. Reading cultures take root in these small, everyday gestures.
In tribal and rural communities, oral storytelling traditions — songs and tales — remain vital. They deserve recognition as rich forms of literacy. As modern pressures increase, preserving these traditions becomes part of sustaining a reading culture.
Building a reading culture does not require grand declarations. It requires steady, human-centred commitments: access to books in all languages, supportive classrooms, time to read, and technology used thoughtfully rather than uncritically.
Most of all, reading grows when people feel invited into it — when stories feel close, possible, and worth staying with. In an age of AI and metrics, remembering the humanity of reading is the most important step of all.
(The writer is an assistant professor at Azim Premji University)