Make Nonfiction Stick: Practical Moves for Kids’ Reading in Home and Classroom

The one habit I would suggest is letting a child start with something that they are already curious about. That approach is drawn from my GROW Anywhere System®: Get started with confidence and optimize what you have.

Instead of assigning children a nonfiction topic, let them choose something that they already want to know more about, then help them connect what they read to something they can observe, try, compare, or investigate around them. Learning becomes much more engaging when they have the freedom to follow their own questions. A book about birds, animals, plants, the environment, or how something works can become a reason to go outside, try something new, or look more closely at the world around them. When children apply what they have just read, the learning becomes more meaningful. In my experience, applied knowledge is not only more enjoyable—it sticks.

Make nonfiction a treasure hunt, not homework. The habit that works in homes and classrooms I support: a two-minute “wonder pick.” The child chooses any informational book or page that answers one curiosity they already have—bugs, space, feelings, animals—then tells you one new fact in their own words.

That tiny ownership loop turns info books into joy. Pair it with movement or drawing (sketch the fact, act it out) so restless kids stay engaged. My picture book Goom Finds His Happy Place and short classroom mindfulness videos on YouTube work the same way—story first, then a practical takeaway kids can use the same day.

Building a connection between children and informational books starts with tapping into their innate curiosity. Kids are naturally wired to ask questions about the world around them, and when you connect those questions to a resource like a book, you’re fostering both inquiry and joyful learning. I’ve found that positioning informational books as tools for answering big, fascinating questions transforms how they’re perceived. Rather than presenting them as “something to read,” highlight how they provide answers to curiosity-driven wonderings—like how animals communicate or why the seasons change.

Creating micro-moments to explore these books together can also make an impact. For example, setting aside a few minutes after dinner or a daily check-in where kids choose what to explore puts the power in their hands. Equally important is modeling enthusiasm. If they see you genuinely interested in the content of these books, they’re far more likely to engage.

Finally, integrating informational books into spaces they already associate with enjoyment, like reading nooks or even as displays on coffee tables, makes them feel accessible and natural to pick up. It’s about shifting the narrative from “education” to exploration and discovery. Simple tweaks in approach can make these books compelling rather than a chore, fostering habits that last far beyond the classroom or home setting.

I try never to make nonfiction feel like homework. What works in our house is letting my kids pick nonfiction the same way they pick a snack, based purely on curiosity in the moment: a bug they saw, a place we’re going, a question they asked at dinner. The one routine that made it stick is what I call the “why” follow-up: whenever they ask a random question, instead of just answering it, I say, “Let’s find a book on that,” and we go get one together. It turns nonfiction into a tool for their own curiosity instead of an assignment, and now they ask for it on their own.

The trick I’ve found is simple: let the kid’s own question pick the book. At our house, we keep a running “question list” on the fridge. Whatever my kid wonders about—why fences sit exactly where they do, how you measure a whole field—we chase it at the library that week. One prompt does the heavy lifting: “What do you want to be able to explain to somebody else?” Kids love being the expert in the room, and nonfiction hands them that status instantly.

The mini-routine that’s stuck is “one fact, one telling.” After reading, they share a single fact at dinner and explain it in their own words. No book report, no worksheet. If they can teach it, they own it. If they can’t, that’s our cue the book was over their head, and we drop down a level without any drama. Joy survives when the stakes stay low.

So my one selection habit: match the book to a live question, then give the kid a stage to share what they learned. Curiosity handles the rest, and it never once feels like homework.

Here’s what I’ve learned: kids stick with nonfiction when the book answers a question they already asked out loud. The selection habit that works in my house is “follow the obsession.” Whatever my kid is currently wild about—snakes, trucks, tornadoes—that’s the nonfiction pile. I don’t push variety; I stock depth.

The mini-routine I’d recommend is the “one question” prompt. Before you read, ask the kid what they hope the book will tell them. Afterward, ask whether it did. That tiny loop turns reading into a treasure hunt instead of an assignment, and it builds real knowledge because they’re checking facts against their own expectations.

Two more quick rules. First, let them quit a book. Forcing a bad match only breeds resentment. Same with a boring book. Second, keep informational books where kids can reach them without asking permission. Access matters more than any curriculum.

Joy comes from ownership. Give kids real choices, honest information, and zero shame in switching, and nonfiction stops being homework and starts being a habit they’d defend to anyone.

Here’s the move that works wonders: let the child own the topic while you own the moment. Choice is rocket fuel for a child who’s felt powerless. So I never assign a nonfiction book. I ask, “What are you curious about right now?” Sharks, tornadoes, how candy gets made—it doesn’t matter. Curiosity is the hook; my only job is putting great books in the path of it.

My go-to mini-routine is what I call “one cool thing.” After a kid reads, they share a single fact that surprised them—at dinner, at bedtime, in the car, whenever. No quiz, no book report, no worksheet. When knowledge becomes a gift a child gets to give instead of a task they have to perform, everything changes. Kids start reading so they’ll have something cool to share. That’s the secret sauce, and I’ve watched it flip reluctant readers into kids who beg for one more page.

Second habit: teach kids to browse like detectives. Flip through, study the photos, read the captions, chase the funky side facts. Nonfiction doesn’t demand a cover-to-cover march, and giving a child permission to hop around removes the “assignment” feeling entirely. Finishing isn’t the point; discovering is.

And anchor it in their world. A book about weather or wildlife hits different when a kid can look up at a real sky and connect the dots. Genuine curiosity feeds every part of a child’s growth.

So if you want kids to stick with informational books, don’t make reading the win. Make wonder the win, and the reading will follow on its own.

Kids stick with nonfiction when it answers a question they’re already carrying around. That’s the entire secret, and I’d put money on it. Don’t push the book; find the hunger first. Then hand them a stack and let them own the pick.

The mini-routine that’s worked wonders in our house is what I call the surprise hunt. Before we open any informational book, I ask one question: find me one thing that surprises you. That’s it. No book report, no vocabulary quiz. Kids race through shark facts and volcano diagrams hunting for the thing they can’t wait to tell me at dinner. Curiosity does the heavy lifting, and knowledge sticks because it’s attached to delight instead of duty.

Two practical habits I’d hand any parent or teacher: first, browse by passion, not reading level. A kid obsessed with dump trucks will fight through harder text willingly. Second, keep it short and social. Ten minutes and a shared “whoa, did you know” beats an hour of silent assignment every single time.

And if I could keep only one habit, it’s this: end every session by asking what they want to learn tomorrow, then actually go get that book. It turns reading into a conversation that never stops, and kids feel their curiosity steering the ship. When wonder drives the bus, nonfiction stops being homework and becomes the thing they’d choose on their own. That’s how you know it’s working.

The trick is letting curiosity drive the choice, not a reading level or a curriculum. Kids stick with nonfiction when the book answers a question they already asked out loud. My kids went through a shark phase, then a volcano phase, and I just kept feeding the obsession instead of steering them toward what I thought they should read.

Here’s the one habit I’d recommend: follow the question. When a kid asks why the moon changes shape or how money works, write it down and make finding the answer a small adventure at the library. The book becomes a tool for their curiosity, not a task on a list. That single flip, from assignment to treasure hunt, changes everything.

Two mini-routines work. First, the “one cool fact” share at dinner, where everyone drops the best thing they learned that day. It makes reading social and gives kids an audience, which is rocket fuel for motivation. Second, let them quit. If a book isn’t clicking after ten pages, trade it for another. Finishing isn’t the win; wondering is. A kid who abandons three dinosaur books and devours the fourth is building a real reading identity, not a bad habit.

And model it shamelessly. When kids see you reading the paper, a cookbook, a how-to manual, informational reading just becomes what your family does. Curiosity is caught, not assigned. Keep it light, keep it theirs, and the knowledge follows on its own.