My Love For Books

When I entered kindergarten my reading journey began. I was introduced to the alphabet and three-letter sight words. Then in first grade my teacher would sit down with a

One of my first memories as a child was my mom reading to me. There was a tornado warning, so we all rushed to the basement and crammed ourselves into the back bedroom. To calm my hysteria from wailing sirens and howling winds, my mom pulled Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone off the shelf and began to read. The storm faded away and I was absorbed in a magical universe. Over the next year, she read the whole series to me, and ever since then, the power of words and the English language fascinated me.

I have memories of using literacy all the way back to when I was a toddler to now. Reading and writing always came easy to me as little kid from what I can remember. My earliest memories of reading would be from when I was very young, possibly still a toddler or a tad bit older. Every night before bed, my mom and I would sit in my bed, she would read to me. We read Bible stories from the children’s Bible, Goodnight Moon, Cat in the Hat and many other children’s books. That was my favorite part about bedtime when I was little. Although she was reading to me, and all I was doing was listening and wanting to look at the pictures, her reading to me every night was a huge influence for me and was what made me want to learn how to read. I would without

Last week we wrote a blog and one of the questions was “How did you learn to read and write?”  I found this question interesting because I never had really thought about the moment when I actually learned how to read and write. My mom was the first person to expose me to reading and writing. A popular tactic she did to make sure I was staying engaged was to read aloud stories and make me follow along with her. My mom would read me many different stories like Tarzan, Bambi, Aladdin, Peter Pan, Lion King, The Jungle Book, and Hercules. whatever I wanted to listen and follow along with, she would read with me. This really helped with my want to read. The books contained a lot of adventure, which made it easy as a kid to follow along with. I became to gain an imagination and then all of a sudden reading was easier.

    As a child I was a very eager learner, I always wanted to learn new things to feed my brain. My desire to learn how to read started when I was introduced to the book, “Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?” Since I didn't have the ability to read at that age, I would ask my mom to

Like many children, I learned to read and write around the age of five at both home and school. I learned to read by reading Dick and Jane. The writing was simple, but I loved the stories. That was always my favorite part

My literacy journey had begun earlier than most kids, according to my mother. I started reading in kindergarten, with help with the BOB books and the PBS show Between the Lions. I don’t know when I had started writing exactly, but I remember clearly writing short stories about my cat Stormy in 3rd grade. At that time we had to write weekly short stories, and I only ever wrote about my cat. In 4th grade, I had started exploring writing more; I would write plays for me and my friends to practice during recess. Most of them, I’m happy to say, were actually educational, so my teacher had even let my friends and I perform one about early-American settlers in front of our whole class.

So everyday I would beg my mom and sister to help me with my reading. My mom would always help me whenever I asked, but my sister was a little bit harder to convince. Usually she would help me though. Once I began learning how to read, I realized how much fun it was. It was all I ever wanted to do. Whenever I was bored, I would just sit down and write out all the words that I could. But I would soon learn those words and go look through books to find new ones to learn. I quickly caught on and I was able to read simple books very well. I would practice whenever I could. When I was in the car I would read all the street signs and names of buildings that we passed by. Reading became my go to whenever I was bored, sad, angry, or just wanted to have a little

My dad started reading to me when I was around the age of four or five. I was specifically interested in the book How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight?. My dad read that to me probably every night for two months, until I could “read” it back to him. The reason “read” is in quotations is because I really only memorized the book and the order he would say the words, but looking back now, I think I give a lot of credit for that time in helping me stay ahead in my reading classes. Being able to recognize what certain words looked like helped me make new words and build sentences a little quicker than most kids my age.

I learned to read like any other kid, starting in Pre-K, only reading super easy books, with maybe five to six pages. The pages mainly included pictures. Each year, the books we read would get harder and harder, eventually leading me up to big novels that I can read today. Ever since I was little, reading words has

As I reflect on my childhood, the first memory of literacy I recall is when I was in kindergarten. I was approaching the end of the school year when my mother revealed to me my teacher was considering keeping me in kindergarten for another year. I was extremely upset and felt as if I had failed my first year of school. I felt that I was fresh out of the gate and already defective. My perception as a child was that the adults were already giving up on me. The teacher stated if I could learn the alphabet by the end of the school year I could continue ahead to the 1st grade. The conclusion of Kindergarten was vastly approaching. My mother constructed flash cards to help with my letter recognition. In doing so, she realized I could not see the letters. My mother promptly made an appointment for me to visit an Optometrist to evaluate me. Before I knew it, I was fitted with a big plastic pair of glasses. My world became much clearer after that. My mother was upset that my teacher did not recognize the problem, and that I never spoke up. Fortunately, I passed kindergarten with a lot of hard work from my parents, teacher, and I.

For average kids who lead an average life, usually learn how to read in kindergarten or first grade. However, my story is a little below average. Like every other kid in my class, I was read to by my parents, but not explicitly on how to read. Entering kindergarten early with a lesser developed brain, already put me in a rough spot. And with a string of incompetent teachers, I never learned how to truly immerse myself into a book until third grade. My poor education leads me to have inferiority issues in my future and constantly believe that I will never be good enough.

My memories of learning how to read are likely much different than those of others. I am unsure of how exactly it came to be that I could read. I remember being three and reading short children's books, manuals, instruction labels...basically anything I could pick up, a

My earliest memory of learning how to read was when I was about four or five years old. My siblings were mainly the ones who taught me to read before I even entered elementary school. By the time I did start attending school I was reasonably literate. One vivid memory I have that always comes to mind when I think of how I started reading was of my sister teaching me. We had these square little red Dora the Explorer books that were only 4 pages. My sister would have me read them out loud and waited patiently as I tried to figure the words out and get the pronunciation right. She made sure I was fluent in my reading abilities for that day before I could go play.

At this point in my life, reading would definitely not make a list of my favorite things to do, but this wasn’t always the case. Some of my youngest memories involve reading, and many of these memories are enjoyable. Every night before bed my mom would read to me, and I remember begging to read just one more before she tucked me in almost every night. This is when my love for reading sparked. Throughout grade school, I continued to read frequently and never found it to be a chore; however, once middle school hit I no longer included reading as a past time or found it pleasurable. Looking back now I realize this was when English class included more forced literature, and school consisted of reading extensive pages in textbooks. Reading