I was born at a very young age. To say it was hard would be an understatement. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t talk, I soiled myself daily and I cried myself to sleep every night. Worst of all, I was born with a condition I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy: I was born hooked to phonics.
A phonics baby happens when the mother exposes the developing fetus to really lame British quiz shows like “UK Jeopardy,” “Countdown” and the short-lived 1938 classic British radio show, “Spelling Bee.”
There are tests doctors run on at-risk newborns to see if they are born hooked on phonics. Babies are placed in front of a television and are forced to watch an episode of “UK Jeopardy.” A child tests positive if they show abnormal interest in the program. Those who test positive are taken to the treatment facility where they watch the Minions movie, this helps melt the child’s brain into the preferred paste texture wanted in a newborn. It’s similar to a factory reset for babies.
I showed little interest in the show, not because I wasn’t hooked on phonics, but because I hate the British; I was a false negative.
Growing up I exhibited symptoms of phonics addiction: antisocial behavior, a slight lisp, interest in learning and an inexplicable obsession with 1986’s “Labyrinth.” These were written off as quirks and my mother said they made me “special.” I wasn’t special, I was hooked.
In kindergarten we were taught basic letters on the first day of school. That was the day my life changed forever. The high of reading was new to me, but I knew I would need it forever. First I started with the vowels and sometimes ‘y,’ then I moved on to consonants and from there… I lost control. Before I knew it I was churning through 15 “Geronimo Stilton” books in an hour just to feel something.
But, I soon became disillusioned with the magic of phonics. Turning page after page, reading book after book, the high of phonics never recaptured the raw passion I first felt for them. I tried everything to recapture that feeling. Libraries worked at first. They were like a magical wonderland full of free stuff, old people, struggling college students and ecstasy. But, that magic soon wore off when I realized there was a “check-out limit” and that I couldn’t just check out all the copies of “War and Peace,” greedy lameos holding out on me.
When I reached high school my phonics addiction reached a crippling level. I became numb to phonics in their physical form; books, signs, bathroom graffiti, things I used to enjoy now make me feel empty. Even then I couldn’t stop. I felt like if I didn’t read a word every hour my world would collapse.
That’s when I discovered the internet. On the internet words are unregulated, people can post whatever they want. There are no publishers, no proofreaders, only people who feel the need to share their opinions. It’s just pure concentrated phonics. I spent months of my high school career freebasing phonics on my smartphone. The janitors found me on multiple occasions passed out, in the bathroom, with a Reddit thread opened on my phone.
I should have stopped then, stopped after the 36th “Captain Marvel” review complaining about “forced representation” and “historical inaccuracies in the superhero movie.” But I didn’t, I was reading and experiencing words I have never seen before, so many slurs and insults I didn’t even know could hurt me! I needed more.
Then I stopped. I just stopped.
I woke up one afternoon with one of the worst phonics-induced hangovers I had ever had and opened up Twitter. I was greeted by a sobering post that read, “Ted Cruz kinda got a dumpy tho.” I stared at my phone for what felt like hours trying to understand that message. Ted Cruz? A dumpy? Why? I couldn’t understand why that post existed, it served no purpose other than to harm those who read it. With that realization it all became clear to me…
Reading brought me no joy.
That day was the day I started my journey toward recovery. It was hard at times, even harder at others, but I couldn’t look back at the risk of seeing Ted Cruz’s “dumpy.” At the time of writing this I’ve been off the books for five years and can confidently say I am no longer hooked on phonics. So please, I implore you to reach out to someone if you see them reading a book, it might be the olive branch they need to start their own journey to illiteracy.
Photo by Hammond Cole Sherouse/The ECHO
