My Experience In Literature

My earliest reading memory was when I was five with the little golden book series. I loved getting new books and reading them. But most of all I loved when my mother read to me so I could look at the pictures as my imagination went wild with stories about Jack climbing up the beanstalk or a king searching a kingdom for a worthy princess.

The inevitable had happened; I, as a small child, was demanded to read. A little antisocial human being launched into a world of, at first, difficult words and lengthy phrases. While words and literacy were forced into my mind, I had reluctantly begun the adventure to enjoy and accept the art of literature. Later however, my hopes and dreams were crushed to pieces by a gruesome teacher with an interesting form of a so called “grading policy.”

As a reader and writer I always faced given assignments with the intent of doing exceptional jobs and take a sense of pride in my work to complete my tasks. As a reader, I will bore myself through out an entire book and realize I didn 't understand a single thing. Although as a writer, I can go on for so long losing myself on a topic because it feels more interactive. Reflecting on my experiences as a reader and writer have been very bold, I never really found a joy or an interest to become the exceptional student who stands out amongst others because, I always felt ok with myself and my results with the way I did things.

I have never been the type of student who enjoyed reading or writing. I have always found it difficult to express myself by writing narratives, book reports, and any other required assignment. I am far more skilled at speaking or verbal expression in general as I have found over the years that people tend to misunderstand my point if it is written.

My experience with literature started when I was in the first grade. My first-grade teacher was named Ms. Young. Every Friday, all the teachers would come together to have story time and read the children a book. I would be so excited for story time because I would sit down with my best friends Ashley and Jordan, and we would listen to the teacher that was assigned to read to us. During story time, all the children would gather around in a big circle and the teacher would be in the center in a big brown rocking chair, and read. Over time in the school year, the children would read bigger and longer books like the Junie B. Jones series, chapter books, and the extreme level, which would be the Harry potter series. Sometimes I would fall asleep because the book that was read was very dull. I remember Ms. Young read to us the “Very Hungary Caterpillar”9 by Eric Carle. I loved that book as a child. It had great illustrations of the caterpillar turning into a butterfly. This book made me love reading for the rest of my life. Now in college, I love to read books. I only

Growing up I was never a big fan of reading, but as I got older I noticed books are very essential. They are filled with adventures and lessons that only exist in wildest imagination. Without books many of us wouldn't know half the things we know today. Books teaches us math , science, history ,and even how to use a computer or how to play a sport. With so many different genres to choose from and millions of books to read , the task of reading can never get boring, especially when you're actively reading

I have never been as comfortable with people made of flesh and bone than I have been with those made of words. Whatever information I lose in the contours of the human face, I have no trouble locating in the unchanging, permanent text of a book. There is something about literature that felt safe to me; the worlds created within far more welcoming to little girls with problems fitting in than the one outside the pages. For this reason, fiction, from Harry Potter to The Book Thief, has remained my greatest passion ever since I learned to read.

As a young child in the years of first to second grade I quickly developed my love for reading. I was never a big fan of the outside world. I thought the world around me was boring and tearing everything/one apart, and thought the adventure inside a book was much more exciting. In my childhood home there was a large bookshelf full of different stories. Most days when getting home I would sit by the shelves in my small pink bean bag chair with numerous children books scattered around me. By endlessly trying and sometimes failing to read my children books such as, the infinite number of Dr. Seuss rhyming stories and Winnie-the-Pooh books I felt comforted by the happy feeling the characters within the stories gave me. The pictures within

My passion for reading began the summer before junior high, the English class I would be taking had a required summer reading list. I had no desire to read “boring books” over the summer and summarize them. Fortunately, my parents made me read the first book and I was hooked. Consequently, I became obsessed (in a positive way) with this unbelievable adventure; “The Hatchet” by Gary Paulsen; transported me to the wilderness that summer and sparked my love for reading. From that moment on reading became my favorite pastime. Literature expanded my world beyond the Rio Grande Valley I visited the “Island of the Blue Dolphins”, and decided I needed dogs with “Where the Red Fern Grows”. I have several beloved books that I never get tired of reading,

The thin rustic pages scrape past my loose fingers as I sit engaged. My heart pounds harder and faster with every word my eyes pass over. My ears hear nothing, even within booming noise. My complete focus is on the book that lays in my hand with a laminated cover, and I have no choice but to submit to the content. My breath tastes of spearmint and the aroma of fresh paper floats past my nose. I couldn’t resist but delve into the worlds and mysteries that books hold. Once opened, everything around me becomes a distant blur. I am hooked. Books have always created an escape for creativity and fancies to run free. Books are used as a medium for reason. Books are formative to the development of human beings. In my instance, books changed my life.

It is nice to take a seat, relax, and break open a book of yours to read. With nothing else in mind, you embark on an adventure as the words guide you through your journey. This is the idea a reader normally accompany the feeling of reading a book. For many other people, like me before, they find it dreadfully painful as for each page turned is like trying to get closer to escape from captivity. I am unsure when my hatred associated with literature started, maybe caused by the hauntingly boring books I was forced to read by my former teachers. However, as time goes by, my attitude towards books gradually lifted when I was unchained from my shackles and allowed the freedom to choose my books. It wasn't that the books were bad, well, maybe, but

Reading is a journey. Some stories span four pages, others run thousands of pages, but each type has the possibility to inform a person in any variety of ways. As a reader I have read many text, from George Orwell, Stephen King, Hayek Friedman, to even Donald Trump, I have dabbled into a bit of everything. However, to help expand my reading wanted to read text out of my norm, out of the style that I am usually familiar with, because I feel that in college, am not going to receive the same types of books, same styles, same vocabulary level. This is where my journey began.

My reading experiences have always been enjoyable. I love to read when I find an interesting book. It’s easy for me to be sucked into a book if the story catches my eye. I mostly like to read teen romance novels. They appeal to me simply because of my interest in a love story. My parents hate buying me books because they know I’ll be finished reading within a week or so. Reading has always been really easy to me. It seems almost natural to be sucked into other worlds. The words start to flow over the pages and suddenly it feels like I’m not even reading anymore. Unless I have to read a book for school or it doesn’t catch my attention, I might have a hard time bringing myself to read it.

As a child, my interests were more focused on reading than writing. In elementary school I fell in love with books. Initially I read simple children’s books, much like everybody else in my class, but it did not take long for my passion to drive me to read more difficult writings. Fiction books quickly became a replacement for any childhood toys. Instead of blocks or stuffed animals I would ask my parents for books. Since they were aimed at young readers, they tended to be short. I found myself going through them within days, and then soon several hours. Towards the end of elementary school I was reading series like Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events. I was captivated, and reading truly opened up a whole new world for me.

The beginning of my interest in reading goes way back, although I don’t have any defining “aha!” moment, where I all of a sudden enjoyed reading books. There were always books around when I was growing up, if I was at my grandparents house it was the books they kept from their youth; classics like Treasure Island or any Hemingway book, the hard covers permanently infused with dust; plenty of History books, particularly World War II history; and the children’s books I always received as presents when I visited. My mom also read a lot, but more modern books, like supernatural or light horror books, nothing too difficult (or scary). I spent a lot of time reading magazines, mostly Video Game (note: spent more time creating stories off the