Where's Spot? By Eric Hill: Character Analysis

In the novel Sold by Patricia McCormick, Lakshmi is a 13 year old mountain girl who lives in Nepal. She has been sold to somebody as a prostitute for 10,000 rupees but she doesn't know that. The value of a human life is more than just a dollar amount.

“Four Directions” by Amy Tan, takes place in modern day San Francisco. It follows the life of Waverly Jong, daughter of Chinese immigrants, Lindo and Tin Jong. Waverly is recently engaged to Rich Schields and is struggling to tell her judgemental mother. Her first attempt in the restaurant Four Directions does not go as planned due to Lindo’s incessant complaining. Afterwards, Waverly takes her mother back to her home, forcing her to see the life she has built with Rich. Between the visit and a family dinner with Rich, Lindo’s criticism leads Waverly to believe that she is unsupportive of their relationship.

I haven't always been keen on reading as I am today. I can’t really remember the reason for my distaste in literature, but I think it mostly came from me just thinking that reading was too difficult or I was just me being a stubborn six year old not wanting to do it, but none the less I was like this for a lot of my earlier years. I was able to read a small amount of text because my parents teaching me, using Doctor Seuss books like Cat and the Hat and One FIsh Two Fish Red Fish Blue FIsh as learning tools to help me become more fluent. I never really understood reading until my stepmom moved in with us. Since my sister and I were still very young

As a child, I didn’t really enjoy reading. To be honest, I don’t believe many people did. The main reason why I didn’t really enjoy reading is I wasn’t very good at it. In my early years of middle school, it always seemed as if everyone else around me was better. Reading has always intimidated me, I never understood what I was ‘actually reading’. If I could get away with not having to ever read, I would. Most of the time, I only read when I had too. Which was usually at least once a week. My mom always encouraged my siblings and I to read to expand our vocabulary. At first, I thought it was a waste of time. Over time, I actually noticed that the more I read, the better my writing became. My first book ever was about a fish. “One fish, Two

Reading has had a place in my life from a young age with two young working parents putting themselves through school, books often kept me busy and quiet. When I started elementary school it took me longer to develop my reading skills if it wasn’t for my favorite book series Amelia Beldia I don’t think I ever would have caught up. The moment I fell in love with reading I was in second grade on a school night I stayed up all night reading a long book about animals. I even woke up my parents at 4 am to tell them how proud I was of myself. Reading in a classroom setting is difficult for me when I'm not interested in the story. The proficiency tests throughout the years k-5th where the worst. Terrible short stories about potato farming, bird flight patterns were not interesting enough to keep my hyperactive mind on track. Against all odds, I was able to focus and graduate

As a child, what I can remember most about reading was that I did not have a natural proclivity to reading at first; but I did enjoy it when my oldest sister would read books to my brother and me. I would always request that if she could read a story before I went to bed, whenever I was staying at her house. She for as long as I could remember has always put an importance on working on work that is mandatory and then having fun after. Also, during my elementary school years, I began to start reading more and more books, like Harry Potter, the Magic Tree House books, and the Series of Unfortunate events, to name a few. I would always lug a couple of books home to read, for when I was finished with homework or the times during class when there was free time (school was a place that I remember reading the most). Sadly, I do not read as many books as I did then, but I am starting to get back into the rhythm of it. For example, I have been reading a slew of different articles weekly, to test my level of patience and willingness to read – school for me, and most my friends, have felt that forced reading diminished the will to read independently. Since school has been a factor in whether I enjoy the work I do, it has changed my feelings of being happy to read or being agitated because I want the information instantaneously, not spend the time to search for it. And that stemmed throughout my childhood and into today. I am gearing up to read new novels from today and possibly

As a child, I really missed out on the reading and writing train. Being raised in a house with a mother who loved literature and would read often in her free time, my father on the other hand, probably has still to this day never picked up a book in his life. Growing up, my little brother and I spent most of our time with my dad so we never learned the true art of reading and writing. Throughout high school, I spent most of my time in the pool or glued to my phone which left me still oblivious to the world of reading and writing. My life was altered my senior year and I began to cling to reading and writing as a way to escape.

When middle school came around I still struggled. I would’ve had to go to a quite empty classroom to focus on my reading. I also had an extra class called Reading Skills I took to help me as well. When I was at the young age I wondered why I couldn’t just be like my friends and read normally and just understand what I was reading. What I mean by this, is that I can read a

In elementary I was always so intrigued with reading, writing, and learning in general. At a young age I was always curious to find out what words meant on papers, tv, and magazines. On my fifth birthday just two weeks before school I got books instead of toys as a present. My mother told me that even though I didn't know how to read yet, that she knew I would enjoy it and that soon enough I would be able to read even just a little bit. I would always look at her National Geographic magazines and would ask her what it said about the pictures on them. When I finished Kindergarten that year I was able to start reading chapter books and I fell in love with “The Junie B. Jones.” I read all twenty-eight of them and continued reading other different series after. I realized that after moving to Dodge City and going into middle school, I wasn't as attentive towards reading anymore. I used to read almost all the time but as I grew older, my attitudes towards reading and writing became less of a consideration for me. I began to be

At a very young age I developed a hatred for reading. It felt like a chore that my teachers and parents were forcing me to do. Reading for pleasure was never really my thing, I didn’t see the importance of it. Not to mention, I was never as good as everyone else at it. I could never fully grasped what exactly I was reading as quickly as others.

Growing up, I never saw my mom without a book, I remember spending hours wandering around bookstores and I wanting to understands why she loved it so much. Even at a young age, I understood, I had no clue why people read. In my mind, it was always a dreadful task I was forced to do in school when I’d rather be coloring or playing outside. I could never have imagined that it would become such a huge passion in my life.

I remember the first time I realized what reading meant to me. In my fourth grade english class, we started reading The Indian in the Cupboard. At first, everyone was upset because “The cover didn’t look good”, and I’ll admit, I was too. But the moment we opened that book, I couldn’t put it down. I ended up finishing it in two days. When I came to class after I finished it, I told all of my friends about the amazing book our teacher made us read, but they were all confused as to why I liked reading, as if reading was a punishment, or something to be ashamed about. And I realized that unlike most of my peers, I was immensely passionate about reading and writing. That was probably one of the first realizations I had in my childhood life. To this day, I still love The Indian in the Cupboard, and I find myself thinking

Reading books can make wonders to the reader. Books can open doors to exciting new worlds, teach many life lessons, and can even give courage to try new things. Sadly, as a child I was never encouraged or exposed to books at home other than in school. I grew up a in a home where the only books I would find were my older sisters’ school textbooks. My mother never took the time to read me a book and not knowing English gave her the option to turn a blind eye towards the subject. Speaking only Spanish at home, made it really difficult for me during my grade school years to learn English. I would always score really low on my AR reading levels and knowing that I was behind from my other classmates, made me hate anything that was related with reading. During fourth grade I was introduced to chapter books and just hearing the phrase chapter books made me agonize in fear. I though chapter books were extremely hard to read and could only be read by the smart students who knew how to read well. Fortunately, my teacher read to us the book that took me to introduced me to a whole new world and changed my reading experience, leading away my fears and misconceptions about books.

I have always been a part of conversations where people are talking about which books to read next. I always felt like the outcast as I did not enjoy reading, nor did I understand why people found pleasure in such a “boring activity.” People would say oh my gosh you will never be able to put this down. I persistently asked my mom what it was about reading that caught her focus, and how could I learn to love it. She told me I needed to find a book that caught my interest. I seldom found one.

For as long as I can remember, reading has always been my favorite pastime as well as my biggest passion. I learned to read from my older siblings who would check out books from their elementary school library for me. Books have always brought me happiness and comfort. When I was upset or sad I could read a book and be transported to a completely different universe where my problems didn’t exist. I would always find myself caught up in a new book, enjoying every single word on every page. When I was about four years old, I was enrolled in elementary school. Although my teachers were highly impressed with my first grade reading levels and I was even placed in my school’s gifted program the following year, my