Read with Julia

Can the heart of education be set free from the love of money?

I guess there always have been (and always will be) market forces in education. It’s certainly a place for big business now. But where are the money makers driving provision for the children and young people of today? What happens to freedom of inquiry and investigation when research and development is funded by companies pushing their product? When the love of money starts to take hold, who listens to the workers at the chalkface?

We need to return to the process of education. The development of critical thinking that requires the investment of effort and time. Blood, sweat and tears have taught me this: education isn’t a ready-made package you can buy off the shelf; there are no easy routes to the power of knowledge and understanding.

Education inequality: A heartfelt cry on the rough, steep road to ‘Every child achieving and thriving’

(TRIGGER WARNING: There are some BIG feelings here. No trantrums, but plenty of tears…)

A sage on the stage or a guide by your side: If you were learning to read, who would you choose?

I am fascinated by the part relationships play in the complex process – the skill and the will – of learning to read. If you retraced your personal reading journey, who would you find signposting the way for your reading development and your enjoyment of books? You may have forgotten the contributors who helped direct your route into literacy. Whether you remember them or not, whether they were sages or guides or both, I believe they left their mark.

Steps up from City Ditch underpass to clear blue sky (Hereford, January 2026)

‘Halibut Jackson’ by David Lucas: introvert brilliance at its finest

Have you met Halibut Jackson?

I hadn’t. Not until I found him hiding in Dave’s basket of books in the Acorns’ charity shop in Ledbury last week. I read him from cover to cover, bought him for 50p, and brought him home with me.

Keep reading ’til it sticks in 2026

Last year, my motto was: “Make reading come alive in 2025!”.

The year before that, my motto was: “Has learning to read become a bore and a chore in 2024?”.

I think I’m going to adopt this motto for the year ahead: “Keep reading ’til it sticks in 2026”.

I started this website in January 2020. I wrote my first blog post on Monday 8th January 2020 and gave it the title ‘3 books about belonging’. In the last paragraph, I wrote:

‘Although I have not found my place in the education system, I have not lost my enjoyment of teaching children. Ledbury is my home. I believe my qualifications, skills and experience are valuable and I am looking for a way to use them for the benefit of my community.’

3 books about belonging

… and I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

Read With Julia: The Story So Far…

2025

It’s 31^st December 2025 and I’m evaluating my attempts to reach the objective I set out for myself on 1^st January 2025 – ‘let reading come alive in 2025’:

Let reading come alive in 2025!

I’m following a wise man’s advice (aka Theodore Roosevelt) and continuing to do what I can, with what I have, where I am. As the epidemic of loneliness persists, mental health concerns rise, and reading for enjoyment hits crisis levels, the need to take off anxiety, take off pressure, take off stress, relax into reading and bond through books is greater than ever.

Here’s an outline of some of my recent efforts to build and strengthen relationships in families and communities through shared reading…

‘Read with me’ by Liz Waterland

I bought this copy of ‘Read With Me: An Apprenticeship Approach to Reading’ by Liz Waterland in the Marjon’s bookshop in Plymouth during my initial teacher training. It still bears my maiden name inside the front cover. I have treasured the book since the late 1980s. The title was the inspiration behind my ‘Read with Julia’ website and YouTube channel.

Relationship Check

On Thursday 16th October, amid news of the UK government’s target for 90% of 5-6 year old pupils to reach the expected standard in the Year 1 Phonics Screening Check (PSC), my family attended the funeral of our dearly beloved friend, Jan Britton, at Margam Crematorium in Wales.

Jan was an Early Years’ teacher. Her career began in East London and continued in Plymouth (where we met). From her eulogy, we learned that Jan had kept in touch with the children she taught – from the day they started school, into their sixties. We also heard stories and saw photos which portrayed the part shared reading played in Jan’s relationships with her pupils, her three children, and her eight grandchildren.

“Miss, you don’t smile anymore.”

Probably the most constructive classroom observation I ever received came from the lips of an 8 year old.

If my memory serves me correctly, her name was Hannah and she would have been 8 when she joined my Year 4 class in September 1992. I must have been roughly halfway through my first year as a Newly Qualified Teacher at Bradwell Village Middle School, Milton Keynes when she shared her spot-on observation,

Dry bones

Once upon a post,
She stood and stared,
Looked out into a valley
Full of bones
And very dry.

“Can these bones live?”
She saw the dark despair of death,
She saw no sign of life, nor breath…

“Can these bones live?”
She did not know, yet dared to hope,
She listened to the Voice that spoke…

“Can these bones live?”
She sensed a power beyond her own,
She knew that she was not alone…

I penned this poem a couple of Saturdays ago, as I pondered the state of reading relationships in our world today. The more I think about it, the more convinced I become that readers are born through relationships.

Relationship breathes life into lifeless texts.