Personal Narrative: My Autobiography Of A Reader

Thanks to hours and hours of bedtime stories, I was able to read from the age of 3. In kindergarten I read to my classmates, and by second grade I was reading series like The Boxcar Children and Trixie Belden. Books allowed me to get lost in other worlds full of adventure and excitement. My love for what words can do has extended through high school. I pride myself on my book collection, anything from Hunger Games to The Picture of Dorian Gray. I’ve continued to read all the way through high school, some books four or five times because I love them so much.

My interest in reading started at an early age, before kindergarten. I have my mom to thank for reading a book or two to me at night before bed. My mom has told me that because she was a stay at home mom before I started school, it was her main goal to teach me as much as she could by herself, before any teachers had the chance to, and that included reading a couple children’s books to me every night. My grandpa had a hand in this too; he bought me a Dick and Jane storybook and before long, I had the entire book read by myself.

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

I first understood reading was important when I had to take a reading test in elementary. I was told the test would determine whether I would move on to the next grade level. That was when I realized I had to take reading important. I didn’t like having to read 4 different stories, but I knew I had to try my best to pass. The test results took forever to come in which made it even scarier. Once my teacher told me I had passed I felt a huge relief. Ever since I have never doubted the importance of reading.

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

I cannot recall the exact age I started reading, but I do know by second grade I was well on my way. Books interested me back then. I remember going to the public library and sitting on the bean bags and just reading. By, fifth grade I was breezing through books and getting all my stars for the Pizza Hut and scholastic challenge. The teachers made us do reports to make sure we were actually reading the books. However, I think even back then I was in a rush to get my stars that I skimmed through the books. Was this a decline to my leaning process? Maybe but I still had the joy of reading. The last book that really caught my attention was “Where the Red Fern Grows.” I remember having conversations about this book in class and the

My first main literacy who be my relationship with God, oh how I need him every day, I could write endlessly about this one, I feel strongly about my connection with the father and it makes me happy to even know the enjoy it has bought into my life .Oh how my soul rejoices every time I think about how much I need him every day he is the center of my peace and I could not start my day without him. He knows my name he is definitely my main literacy every day. The next main literacy would be my job and which I need that in order to live in this world and be a productive citizen in this society. To have money to sustain my lifestyle. My final literacy would be my whole family. They mean the world to me, there is nothing more important to me than

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.

Harry Potter, Junie B. Jones, Narnia, Lemony Snicket, Hunger Games, Lord of the Rings, Goosebumps, Magic Tree House, and the Boxcar Children: Popular book series that most kids get into. I never did. Ever since school required mandatory reading, I perceived books as hassles. School effectively turned me off of reading for pleasure. Going into middle school, where students have regular book reports and summer reading, I faced a challenge. To make it by I had to learn to live with books, as they played an integral part to my career as a student. However, my current state of mind labeled reading a hassle and wanted nothing to do with it, necessitating change. Transitioning from elementary to middle school, I matured both physically and intellectually.

Hey, it's me as usual. You’re never going to read this but I just need to get some things that have been on my mind out. Lately I find myself listening to X‘s album 17, and it makes me think about so much stuff that I had put aside and hidden somewhere in my head during the beginning of summer. some which I can't even fathom the words to explain. what makes letting go of things so hard is that I promised myself that I would never abandon anyone or let go of the things I care the most about. I never wanted to turn out like my birth mom, I didn't want to be able to forget about someone as easily as she forget about me or even when she forgot about me in the hospital the day I was born to go buy drugs because she cared about that more than her own child. I've always promised myself that I will be the person she was never able to be, that's what makes it impossible to just leave when someone just gives up on me. I've figured out why I'm the way I am, everyone says I have bad taste in guys but they couldn't be more wrong. I've never admitted liking someone till

My earliest experience with reading and writing were traumatizing especially when I was in the first grade. I still recall the experience I went through to this day. It made me really hate myself because the other kids were making fun of me.

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

Growing up in a family of six, there was never a shortage of people to read to me, the only shortage that existed was my ability to understand and appreciate the story in front of me. I was always on the move and the sedentary act of reading a book never appealed to my childish motives. Coupling my inability to hear well and my stagnant progress in school, I was quickly falling behind. With most of my childhood dedicated to the fantastical world I had created, I had no time to listen to someone else’s story. I would not continue on this way though, for my mom, noticing my lack of literacy skills, made it her effort to divulge in me the wonders of someone else’s world, each world becoming a part of my own.

Reading has been one of my favorite hobbies since I was a little child. I grew up as a normal child should grow and eventually I had to start learning for me to fit in society. My literacy started many years ago, after I knew how to talk and communicate with people. Reading my alphabet was quite stressful and I had to be given a hand by my family members. I remember my parents reading with me and it was the most meaningful and memorable way to spend time with me. This is because I liked reading a lot and I was eager to learn so that I could fit in with my older siblings. My favorite books were storybooks taking about adventures and fairytales

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