Reading comprehension strategies for grown-ups
How to reclaim your focus by reading like a high school English student
I’m struggling to grab my usual pockets of writing time lately, for a host of reasons, so I dove into my archives for today’s newsletter. I was struck—and a bit appalled, to be honest—at how relevant I still found this piece one year later. I’ve lightly edited the text to reflect my current status, and I hope you find a bit of wisdom for your own reading life within it.
First, a quick announcement. At the end of this month, I’m launching our Anchor Texts series with an informational treasure trove on Ann Petry before we read and discuss The Street in November. I’ll share dates for our virtual book club events in that post as well. If you missed my Anchor Texts announcement, check it out. I can’t wait to get back to my classic book club roots!
Reading comprehension strategies for grown-ups
The baby is teething (AKA not sleeping), the news is bad bad bad, my hormones are on the postpartum/post-breastfeeding rollercoaster, and my therapist thinks I might, just maybe have a tad bit of ADHD. All of this to preface: I’m finding it difficult to read right now, even though I love it. Even though I have an exciting TBR stack. Even though reading makes me feel better. Alas, my brain is on the struggle bus. Let’s see if you can relate. Any of this sound familiar?
I’m struggling to make simple decisions.
I wanted to listen to you, but everything you just said went in one ear and out the other.
I try to read, but the words swim in front of my eyes.
I can’t access deeper thinking the way I’m used to.
I’m staring at my phone/watching TV because it’s the only thing I feel like my brain can do right now.
I’ve been through various “struggling brain” periods, and I’ve learned to ride the wave instead of fighting against it. However, there comes a time when I want to feel like myself again, and my brain requires some gentle rebooting. Putting my phone in the other room is a good start, but when it comes to getting back into books, I need more intentional tools to boost my brain back into action.
I taught 9th and 10th grade English for five years, and my students filled the entire spectrum of reading levels. In working towards deeper reading and critical analysis, we had to scaffold core comprehension skills.
With my scattered focus and limited attention span these days, I figured it was time to pull out some of the key strategies I used in the classroom, with a more mature twist.
In order to make these strategies work for my brain, I need to keep them low key, fun, and easy. I’m not about to give myself homework on top of everything else I have going on! The goal here is to engage in a little bit of metacognition in order to regain focus and stamina in my reading life.
(After I take a long nap.)
Reading Short Texts
An eleven page short story might not seem intimidating to you, but to a 9th grader who hates reading, it’s a seemingly eternal task. To ease my students into longer texts, I started with poetry. I know—poetry can be scary, too! But not to my students. Exploring endless possibilities for meaning and emotion in a small word count gave them a boost of confidence so long as I didn’t crush their interpretations.
I could use a dose of confidence myself, plus reading a tome feels like too much for me right now, so I’m sticking with books under 300 pages, like The Wilderness by Angela Flournoy. I’m working my way up to full novels by listening to audiobooks and using my theater minor for chapter book readalouds, but I’m not pressuring myself to tackle any long texts for awhile. Buckeye by Patrick Ryan will have to wait a few weeks.
Making Inferences
To move from reading comprehension to analysis, a reader must learn to make inferences, or guesses, about what will happen next, how a character feels, or how a story might end. For many adult readers, this process happens without our realizing it. We automatically fill in the blanks and interpret a text in order to draw our own conclusions, but a young reader often needs to practice this process before integrating it into their automatic reading experience. I used various activities in the classroom to achieve this purpose, but they all boil down to pausing, asking, and being bold. Pause your reading, ask yourself a question (like: what do I think will happen next?), and make a guess, even if it might be wrong.
My students needed bookmarks, posters, and verbal reminders to engage in this process, but I just need to slow down and pay attention to my automatic inferences. Sometimes Often, this looks like talking to myself. I remember when I was listening to James by Percival Everett, and I had a hunch about where he was taking the relationship between Jim and Huck. “Is he really going there?” I said out loud to myself, my toddler, and the dog. He did go there, but even if I would have been wrong, the intentional pause helped me soak in the details I’d already gathered and listen more closely for clues to support my inference.
Mind Map Annotations
I sat through way too many district curriculum meetings about mind maps, like they were a magical key to unlocking our students’ comprehension and critical thinking skills. Sure, for some visual learners a mind map helped cement certain concepts or plot points—but overall, maps weren’t going to be the quick fix the district wanted them to be.
As a visual learner myself, I do, however, enjoy connecting characters, quotes, and themes with mind mapping—but you could just call it taking notes!
On a blank page in the front of my current read, I write down main character names, themes, and sometimes motifs. When I start making connections between literary devices or plot points, I try to group my notes by theme in order to visualize the threads coming together. Sometimes I’ll transfer my front cover notes to a notebook page where I can create something resembling a bubble map. When I’m finished reading, I can look at my “mind map” to help me summarize, analyze, or discuss the novel. This is the strategy I’m most excited to use for The Wilderness and The Street.
Like my students, I hope to use these tools and one day realize that reading feels easier. I know it will happen—I’ve seen it before.

