Emma Clarke

Oxford University Press employee

“It’s such a nice thing to break up the working day with an ARCh session – if anything, it benefits me just as much as it benefits the children!”

“It’s three minutes past one,” announced B, as we walked from his Year 4 classroom, down the corridor and to our normal reading space outside of the school library.

“So it is B, You did a super job telling the time,” I replied encouragingly.

“But you’re meant to start reading with me at one o’clock. Next week come at one o’clock, okay?”

That was me told off. Punctuality has always been my superpower, so I wasn’t used to being reprimanded for lateness.

“Okay – I promise to do my best. One o’clock it is next Monday!” I peered down at his sincere little face, which eventually cracked into a cheeky grin.

I’ve been volunteering at ARCh since February 2023, and B and I started reading together in the autumn term. I remember our first session: after a brief introduction in his classroom, we sat down opposite each other to have a chat and get to know each other. The aim of this initial session with a new reader is to find out about the child’s interests, hobbies, favourite/least favourite school subjects, etc. – in order to tailor games and reading material accordingly – and gauge their enthusiasm for reading. However, the chatty and inquisitive seven-year-old I now know hadn’t yet surfaced, and, for the most part, he stared at me suspiciously, replying to my questions now and again with the odd “yes”, “no” or nod of the head. Prior to our session, I’d been informed that B had moved from his home in Hong Kong to Oxford at the beginning of the year and English wasn’t his first language. Having read with two confident Year 2 children in the spring and summer terms, navigating a language barrier was going to be a new challenge.

After 30 minutes, it was time to say goodbye. I explained that I’d return with my enormous green book box the same time the following week: Monday afternoon at one o’clock (just after my lunch break and before returning to work). The week passed quickly and soon I was in school again, equipped with ideas from my ARCh training and a TEFL qualification I’d studied back in 2016 – I was rusty, but enthusiastic and ready to use lots of repetition, gestures, flashcards and highly illustrated books.

Walking into the classroom, B’s eyes met mine. He smiled, grabbed his reading book and strode purposefully towards me. “Hello, Emma! Are we going to read now?” The transformation was astonishing. We spent the next half an hour reading some pages from his book, exploring the book box and playing Top Trumps: Wonders of the World. Trust had been established; we were ready for lift off.

It became clear very quickly that B loved facts and numbers and was less interested in fiction and imaginative texts. This, of course, was absolutely fine; ARCh gives children the space and permission to have fun and read what they want to read in a non-pressured environment. The children’s atlas, in this case, was a winner, and we spent a lot of time reading facts about different countries and discussing the differences between them. With every question I’d ask my little reader, I got at least three in return: “Have you been here?” “What’s the airport like?” “When you went, what day was it and what time was it?” He showed signs of neurodivergence – perhaps not diagnosed yet – but he was very switched on and curious about the world around him, which was a joy. Thirty minutes of my time and attention seemed very important as, from what I could glean, he was struggling to bond with the other children in his class. And this is why ARCh makes such a difference.

As a company volunteer, my employer allows me to dedicate an hour a week to volunteering. I have a busy job, so the commitment is manageable without being overwhelming. What’s more, it’s such a nice thing to break up the working day with an ARCh session – if anything, it benefits me just as much as it benefits the children! During stressful moments, the chance to move away from my computer screen for a short period, forget about emails and meetings, and read something silly with a laughing child is really restorative.

Speaking of silliness, a favourite text of mine is a rhyme I found in a poetry anthology this year:

No Harm Done – by Anon.

As I went out
The other day,
My head fell off
And rolled away.
But when I noticed
It was gone,
I picked it up
And put it on.

Accompanied by a funny cartoon of a person chasing after their head, it’s a guaranteed giggle from a child! And I love the ridiculousness of the title. Nonsense poems are brilliant icebreakers for more reluctant children, or for a child who might not be having a great day at school.

Who ever said reading was boring?