by JAILEEN F. JIMENO

YOU CAN tell which generation a person belongs to by how they learned to read and the books they loved as kids. For the prewar generation up to martial law babies, it was either Pepe and Pilar in English or Nene at Benito in Filipino. These books also caused several generations of dogs to be named either Tagpi or Bantay, although sometime during the ‘60s, children in private schools began learning to read without the help of Pepe and Pilar or Nene and Benito, but may recall John and Jill, and a dog named Spot.

	[photo by Jaileen Jimeno]

Among the Filipinos born after Edsa 1, however, even those from public schools may no longer mention Pepe or Nene, or even Bantay. Today the resources available for children to start learning have become so numerous that many children know their ABCs as early as three; ask them about books they love, and you just might want to pull up a chair as you wait for them to finish going through a long list of favorite books and even memorable book characters.

That, however, is true only among those belonging to the middle and upper classes. As in other things, children belonging to poor families are unable to compete with their better-equipped and better-financed peers when it comes to reading, widening the chasm between the literates and not-so-well-read. And because the latter far outnumber the former, this means publishers and sellers of children’s books are catering to a very small market.

In 2003, the results of the Functional Literary, Education and Mass Media Survey (FLEMMS) showed that functional literary of the population aged 10 and above was just 84 percent. According to then education undersecretary Fe Hidalgo, this translates to 11 million Filipinos “who do not have the literacy skills to become truly productive.”

Last year, the education department also asked the nongovernmental Aklatang Pambata (Children’s Library) to conduct a survey at the Paltok Elementary School and Bayanihan Elementary School in Quezon City. The survey revealed that a whopping 90 percent of students from grades two to six were either slow readers or are unable to comprehend what they read, either in English or Filipino.

“We found a lot of them having a hard time reading,” says Alistair Troy Lacsamana, a professional librarian and executive director of Aklatang Pambata. “Many were slow, others could not understand they read. And to think they are on their way to high school.”

“Poverty is a factor,” he says, explaining in part why many public school children are unable to meet functional literacy standards. He adds that while preschool enrolment is now the norm, many children are left behind in reading and comprehension because books are understandably not among the priority purchases of impoverished households. He also says that not all children headed for public schools get to enrol at barangay day care centers, the budget-friendly counterparts of the multi-thousand-peso preschools those from the upper classes go to.

THEN AGAIN, before busy or nervous parents began enrolling their children in droves in day care centers or preschools, there was a time when the field was not too tilted in favor of those with money to spare for children’s books. In fact, most children used to learn their letters in their first year of formal schooling, in grade one, at a time when classrooms still had breathing space and when even the most remote public school could compete toe to toe with private schools.

“Kindergarten was not common then, and Abakada was every kid’s first book,” says Jovy Anicete, who is in charge of purchasing children’s books at National Bookstore. Abakada used to be called Mga Unang Hakbang sa Pagbasa (First Steps in Reading). It first came to print in the ‘60s under Cacho Hermanos printing company. Millions of Filipino children learned to read after thumbing through the pages of the book until it was worn out or had to be returned at the end of the school year, which was usually the case in public schools.

	ANI Rosa Almario, Adarna House project development manager [photo by Jaileen Jimeno]

Surprisingly, little has changed since in the Abakada. Written by Luningning Salvador, it can still be found at National Bookstore. It still has the same yellow and green cover with the same picture: a mother teaching her son and daughter how to read. It’s still in newsprint. It still has a few pictures to help a child along as it shows how, by combining letters of the Filipino alphabet, a word is formed. The few things different about it now include its price (now P9.50, compared to just a few centavos decades before) and the number of letters, which increased from 20 to 28, with the inclusion of the letters C, F, J, ñ, Q, V, X, and Z.

Education experts say the book’s approach still works even though many other things have changed in the teaching — and learning — world. The “other things,” however, help determine whether or not children will eventually develop a reading habit. Says Lacsamana: “In our analysis, there are too many things that distract children. They find less time to read.”

“Children now learn to read through a combination of resources available to them,” adds Ani Rosa Almario, project development manager of Adarna House, the country’s first children’s book publisher. “They have TV, computer games. Multimedia na ang sources.”

Indeed, the Abakada boys and girls have long been part of the past. As early as the ‘70s, many Pinoy kids were already learning their ABCs before they even set foot in a classroom, thanks to TV and “Sesame Street,” whose residents included a vampire called The Count, a very big yellow bird, and a blue monster who loved cookies. Then came a generation of kids who learned their ba-be-bi-bo-bu via “Batibot,” where the teachers included Kuya Bodgie and a giant turtle named Pong.