The Ability To Read Analysis

As the days went by, not having anyone to help me with my reading made me feel like my world had ended. I felt like I was never going to be able to get through grade school. I felt hopeless. When I was about nine years old, knowing what I learned in school as well as what my sister had taught me I began to read by myself. I knew that I would have to learn some how. At that point I would bring books home from school and try to read them. It was a challenge for me but I didn’t give up. While I was reading out loud to myself at home one day, I remember my little brother coming up to me and asked “what are you doing?” I replied “reading a story, would you like me to read to you?” Of course he being four at the time said “yes”. From that day on, I read a story to him everyday. He was always excited to see me when I came home from school. I read to him every day until he started school. When I was finish reading him a book I would go and read more.

My mother taught me how to read at a young age. She read to me before I could read which helped me learn new words and develop a basic understanding of literature at an early age. When it came time for me to attend elementary school, I remember heading to the library quite often. Books were organized based on what was thought to be the appropriate reading material for that grade level. I often found myself wandering down the isles with the older kids. I’m so grateful my mother encouraged reading as much as she did. If she hadn’t, it’s very possible I could have struggled with reading. If this were true, I wouldn’t have learned as much as I did, or had the desire to read, which is very important in order to become as advanced in literature as possible.

My experience with books as a child were nowhere as intimate as those from Hisham Matar who lived for the excitement of books stating that he remembers love filled days being read too and the comfort he would feel from a book with a close person. These are feelings that I never experiences until my late teen years. Mr. Matar seems to have a genuine value and appreciation for book, he recalls days back to events where guest brought his father books that he would go on to read as there were no books for children present only advanced literature that helped mold him into the writer he is today.

Before I began elementary school, I enjoyed reading picture books, the touch and feel books and pop-up books. I loved the author Dr. Suess, because he was funny and because I loved the rhyming he did in his writing. I can remember before bed, my mom or dad would read to me until I got old enough to read myself. My mom has always enjoyed reading, if she is not reading a book, then she is reading a recipe or a magazine. My dad on the other hand, I have only seen him read one book, besides reading manuals for his tools. Reading was not a big deal in my house, all of us kids were told that we needed to read, but they did not force us to read. This brings me to Richard Rodriguez’s essay, in his household reading was not as important, but once he got to school, he realized that reading is one of the main activities. I can relate to Rodriguez because in either one of our households we weren’t told that we had to read before we did something else. Once I got to elementary school is when I realized that reading was not for me. Before school, I enjoyed reading, then once I began elementary school, I was forced to read, take tests over books, and read out loud in front of the class which made reading a chore.

When I was child, I loved having books read to me, but never read them out loud. I loved whenever we read One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish and Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. When I would have these books read to me I did not understand why the letters did not make sense to me to make real words. I would try to sound them out but could not come up with a real word when I did. I started to memorize the books I loved because my parents would ask what certain words are and I did not know. All through the beginning years of grade school I was two to three years behind in my reading level. I thought this was normal because my teachers never tried to help me improve. In sixth grade, we would have to read a book out loud to the rest of our classmates, I hated this. I could pronounce the easiest of words. And the words I could pronounce I read so slow. A few weeks after this we found out I was dyslexic.

Passion for reading must come from the inner spirit of human being. It is something that cannot be forced into humans. Like Kacper, countless people could not find their passion for reading until they took a book into their hands. Book is a unique power that could impact person’s understanding of the world. It is like a drug, you use it once and you get addicted to it forever. “The library is an ocean of knowledge”. Author’s profound description of the library is a proof of the value he gives to the books. It is the place where he finds a true happiness and peace.

You are right, I do love to read, but don’t count the second part out yet. 7 years ago, my parents got divorced. I was just a little 8 year old girl trying to understand why it was so hard to see my dad and why my mom and dad weren’t together. I remember using reading for big changes in my life like that divorce. I love to read and I enjoy reading just for fun, but reading is always there for me. It’s something I know won’t go away. It affects my life, but in a good way. Reading has shaped me as a person and without it, I would not be the person I am

I think books are beautiful gifts that shouldn't be taken for granted ,as humans we can learn so much from so many different types of literature an even have the gift to be able to write our own stories.Without books we probably wouldn't have a dictionary,a thesaurus, Sherlock Holmes even that was just a fictional character, the imagination of Arthur Conan Doyle became one of the most famous books and even evolved today's world of forensics

I, Captain Beatty have had many encounters with the world of books when I was younger, and have come to the same conclusion countless times. Books will not help one learn, but in fact pull people apart. When I was young I was quite fond of these books but as time progressed I felt them pulling me apart of from my life and eventually the ones who loved me most. Book after book pulling me into the never ending whirlwind of words. I could not get an ounce of sleep, staying up all night reading them and delving into their true meaning and what they can teach me. Well, during this time my callow mind was constantly trying to soak up knowledge, and the books that I had gave me the opportunity to do so. On the other hand my brother was against books and wanted to do

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.

From a young age, I have had an interest in reading and writing. When my mother found out she was pregnant with me, my sister, Kaitlyn, was four years old. Kaitlyn had just begun reading when she found out she would soon have a baby sister. My sister, eager to share her reading skills, begged my mother if she could read stories to me while I was still in the womb. Once I was born, the story-telling continued. I gravitated towards books at an early age, most likely because my sister was reading by the time I was big enough to hold a book. Reading has always been around me. Bright colors caught my attention as a child. If a book had a colorful cover, I wanted someone to read it to me. When I was three years old, I started learning how to read in my preschool class. While learning to talk, my way of telling someone I wanted or needed something was to point. My mother would tell me, “use your words”. Because my preschool teacher

It’s amazing when you find the perfect book. When the perfect book is found, you take off in an adventure of someone's imagination. When the perfect book is found you can read about anything in this world. When the perfect book is found you could find faith. Some may say that books are just a waste of time and are unhelpful, but it’s better to be knowledgeable whether you could use it now or in the future.

Books are the beginning of humankind, it’s the thing that said we are human it has everything about us written in a book on a shelf. It has your name, his name, her name, and my name written in it. It might be unsettling to hear, but it pretty much says I’m a free person. The most important part of books are used to inform us, describe us, and let us think out loud.

In my experience of growing up in the age where books are fading and technology is taking over, I can verify the importance of books. The source of our learning came from books and everyone was on the same page. When you have a book physically in your hand, you seem to feel a connection to the author. You are listening to what the author is trying to say. There are many times where we see people take author's words and twist them into something they aren’t.

Books are the foundation on which knowledge is built. My bookshelf is not a library but a row of literature crafted to my specific liking. In my collection there are three literary works of art that have had a significant impact on the way I view the world, 1984 by George Orwell, The Complete fiction of H.P. Lovecraft, and The Power of Awareness by Neville Goddard. These three books have provided me with a range of insight, perseverance, and an escape from reality. Without these texts my mind may have become acceptant to the mundane world which surrounds me.