Word Poverty

 “Word poverty” was one of the first concepts I learned in my Master’s program after switching careers from journalist to special education teacher. I did not fully understand it, however, until my 5th year into teaching. And quite unexpectedly, the meaning dawned on me as I was listening to a playlist of church hymns while preparing for school. 

But before I get into that, for the uninitiated, “word poverty” has a huge role in a student’s success, both in school and in their career to come. It occurs when a child is not exposed to a wide range of vocabulary in their formative years at home. Researchers have discovered that “the size of a child’s vocabulary is an accurate predictor of academic achievement and even upward mobility over the course of a lifetime.” (Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development)

Although researchers have tied low-income households to this issue, I don’t think we can definitively say that just because someone is poor means that they will not be exposed to vocabulary. I am a single parent, and my son was exposed to many vocabulary words, as I read to him starting the day I brought him home from the hospital as a newborn. Rather, I think the researchers are tying low income to the level of education, which makes more sense. Low education = fewer opportunities for higher paying jobs = low income, but high education can still land you in a low-paying job. At any rate, I digress. The point is that I see many students in my classes dealing with the effects of word poverty.

One morning as I was preparing my room for my first class, I was listening to a YouTube channel with hymn instrumentals, and the words of each hymn came flooding into my mind. It was at that point I realized that why I, as a daughter of poor Salvation Army officers, had been “rich” in vocabulary as I grew up.

In my home, the sounds of a piano and my father’s strong “Irish tenor” voice filled the rooms. He would practice his solos for church, and the songs became embedded in my brain for as long as I can remember. I realized that morning in my classroom that these songs were written mostly in the 1800s – and some even dated to the Reformation. They reflected the language of bygone eras and the words that people regularly used in centuries past.

Let’s look at a hymn that most people might recognize … Martin Luther’s Mighty Fortress:

“A mighty Fortress is our God,

A Bulwark never failing;

Our Helper He amid the flood

Of mortal ills prevailing:

For still our ancient foe

Doth seek to work us woe;

His craft and power are great,

And, armed with cruel hate,

On earth is not his equal.”

Now think about a 5-year-old singing that song with her father in the car on her way to kindergarten. I may not have understood all of the words – and probably substituted many of them for those that I already knew – but over time, I understood it. There were countless hymns like this growing up.

There were many other sources of my vocabulary enrichment. I had to learn the Salvation Army doctrines by heart at age 11. I can still cite them from memory. As a good example, let’s just look at just one of them:

“We believe that it is the privilege of all believers to be wholly sanctified, and that their whole spirit and soul and body may be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Not only did I memorize these, but my mother explained them with large, colorful visual aids in Sunday School, kids’ church, Wednesday night kids’ activities, and summer Bible school. Repeatedly.

This doesn’t even take into account the multiple conversations to which I was privy between my parents as they drove us to visit multiple churches in western Pennsylvania or as we went back and forth to the Salvation Army for their duties. It doesn’t count how my father used to force me to debate him at the dinner table on theological and social issues to drill my independent thinking skills. 

When I realized the breadth of the words to which I was exposed, it was no wonder that I easily segued into a 30-year career as a news journalist and then as a special education teacher. In my case, the “rich” words equated to successful career pursuits.

So what does this mean for my students? Just that as I go into my 6th year of teaching, I am much more empathetic to their struggles. I have more motivation to research evidence-based practices to widen their vocabulary understanding and to impart to them the importance of embracing literacy and vocabulary retention. And I will remind them that if they did not grow up with reading at home or other activities, they still can learn many words that will enrich their lives. 

Here’s hoping there will be ripple effects from this realization.