My Memories Of Reading

Don’t be concerned, but my mom is suffering from tsundoku. Tsundoku is a Japanese word used to describe the stock piling of books that you will never read. As long as I can remember my mom has been bringing home heaps of books from anywhere she can get them. Last year, she came home from the local library book sale with six bags of books. Yes, she loves to read, but she has not read any of those books in the past year. Waiting to be shelved, most of them continue to sit on our basement floor, collecting dust. This habit of my moms annoys me; nevertheless, I am very thankful she loves to read and has passed on a portion of that love to me. Books play a major part in my life from memories of being read to when I was little, reading books I hated in school, and falling in love with the characters of a breathtaking novel.

In order to truly and fully understand my history with reading, we must go back to the beginning of my narrative. The earliest memory of reading that I can recall is my mom reading me stories like The 10 Little Ladybugs. I absolutely loved when my mom or dad would read to me, and I wanted it to stay that way. I had no intention whatsoever to explore into my own individual reading endeavors. It seemed that my prayers would be answered, at least for a few years. It wasn't until I was in first grade that reading came back into the forefront of my very short attention span. We had started learning how to read, and I wanted nothing to do with it. My teacher, my parents, and even a few of my friends would try and get me to open a book but to no avail. This utter refusal to read

    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

As far as I can remember, I’ve always been fond of reading. However, writing and speaking did not come naturally to me. It took some time and the inspiration of others to develop my writing and speaking intuitive.

I’ve always been an avid reader. When I was in elementary school, my mother would take my brother and I to the library every week to pick out books. I would take the books to school and read them all in one day. I loved reading so much that my teachers would call home and tell my parents that I was reading my library books during class instead of my textbooks. Reading has always been a major part of my life. I used to aspire to become an author. I even wanted to become an editor at one point. I used to make daily household newspapers and magazines for my entire family to read and enjoy. My strong love for reading certainly came in handy during my freshman year of high school.

“We see what happens when we introduce toddlers to books. They fall in love.” (Johnson). Luanne Johnson, an accomplished author, discusses how children are not born with a natural distaste for reading, they are very curious and most find books intriguing. Much like my own experiences, I recall my parents always reading to me right before bed, there were two very important authors that my parents would read from, including Dr. Suess and Sandra Boynton, these were authors whose books were the first ones I tried to pick up and read myself. I would sit my stuffed animals up around me and I would read to them, reading aloud to my animals gave me a sense of impeccable intelligence, I continued that habit clear up until I was approximately 9 years

“I hated reading Gus the Bus over and over again to you.” This statement came from my mom after my claim that I didn’t remember being read to very much as a child. And though I don’t remember being read to, my mom and dad were influential in the beginning of my literacy. They’ve taught me not to take learning for granted, and have encouraged me to read all of my life. Despite experiencing low points with my interest in literacy throughout my life, there are clear examples of how my interest and reasoning has matured from the beginning of my literacy to the present day.

Ever since I was in elementary school, I was never able to grasp what I was reading. It was always a chore and I would speed through it or avoid it entirely. The extra help I received was meant to help me provoke, my eventual, love for reading, but at the time only made me feel as though I wasn't smart enough to read what everyone else my age could. While most kids would push themselves to read books like Harry Potter, I was the kid who was still reading the Magic Treehouse series. It was through the assistance of my parents encouraging me to read 30 minutes every night that caused me to love reading and become the reader I am today.

I learned to read very young. My Grandma was an aspiring author and created a simple learn to read system called “The Look Book”. I loved the ability to read so young. I was a little celebrity in my mom’s group of friends, they would watch her quiz me in awe of my reading comprehension skills when I was just three years old. Someone even contacted my mom about sending me to a special school for gifted children. I wonder how different I would be now if I were sent there; Maybe my math skills would be fantastic. Reading taught me what an escape was at a very young age. The best feeling in the world from a toddler’s perspective is shutting the door and being able to curl up inside my cold sheets for hours, only hearing the sound of the turning page. The ability to visualize the story as if a movie is being played in your head. Reading was my escape. Reading made me feel safe.

Ever since I was a little girl I have had a deep love for reading. My mother started teaching me to read when I was three years old, and by the time I entered kindergarten I already had a firm grasp of the English language and

With reading came writing. The stories were no longer confined to the boundaries of my mind. I could write the stories I had dreamed up in my head down with words I had learned from the books that lined the library shelves. I painted my stories with words. It was then that I became an

Since childhood, I have been enamored with reading. My passion for reading was passed from my mother who has always advocated literacy to my siblings and me. During elementary school, my teachers would send report cards with comments admonishing me for reading throughout class. A novel would be hidden behind a textbook or in my lap, and I would sneak a glance whenever possible. When school was dismissed, my nose would be buried inside a book. I would read anything I could get my hands on: my brother’s books, my mom’s Women’s Day magazines, and even the backs of cereal boxes. I would snuggle up in blankets, grab the latest Magic Treehouse book, and plunge into magical worlds for countless hours. Every summer break I would spend my time reading numerous books for my library’s Summer Reading Program.

I might as well say, the minute I was born I was being read too by my parents. They were the type of parents that wanted their kids to be the best they could be, so reading to my sister and me was a way to promote many early skills that can help children succeed in school, work, and everyday life as they grow up. "Many studies have demonstrated that reading to children has many positive effects. For example, a study was made in Rhode Island Hospital to compare two groups of eight months old – one group was read to as often as babies, while the other was not. It was shown that those who were read to have their “receptive” vocabularies (number of words they understand) increased 40 percent since babyhood, while the non-reading group increased by only 16 percent" (Raisesmartkid.com). This explains that my parents were on the right track as they continued to read to us every night and even as the played audio books as we fell asleep.

My first memory of reading or writing was being taught the alphabet at the daycare I attended in my childhood. I was in the “butterfly room” which was for children going into kindergarten the following year. I have a similar memory of my mother teaching me to write my name when I was around that same age. At some point in the years following I learned to read on my own and became more proficient in writing.

I recall my first obstacle at age four, while playing a game with my cousins who were a few years older, but smaller in size and they called me dumb because I could not read. I cried and begged my grandfather to help me learn to read. I was determined to learn how to read and it didn’t take long before I was reading. Because of that adversity reading is my favorite pastime.