Between classes and work, it's been everything I could do to get through assignments. I did however get one of these early assignments back and my prof took the time to tell me she really enjoyed it, so I thought I'd share it.
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Trying to dredge up memories of reading for me is
like the proverbial “trying to find a needle in a haystack.” I love to read. I regularly find myself fascinated by the
most obtuse of subjects. Advertisements,
manufacture’s labels, graffiti; it doesn’t matter to me. It is just as interesting to see how
something was written, the style of the writing, as to actually read the
words. This love of reading has also
lent itself to an adoration of creating my own prose. I find the more that I read the better I am
able to write. While I don’t necessarily
consider myself a writer, I often find it easier to develop my thoughts on
paper rather than speak them aloud.
I don’t
recall ‘learning’ to read or write. I
try to imagine myself unable to read or write and suddenly these words begin to
vanish from the page. Such a seemingly
insignificant initial talent has had such a profound effect on every aspect of
my life. The first memory I do have of
actually reading, was reading my little brother bedtime stories. With about four years of age difference
between us, I must have been about 6 or 7 years old when he and I started our
nightly ritual. What is more significant
about this ritual is that my brother later claimed these bedtime stories as one
of his earliest memories, which only helped to reinforce my passion for reading.
It is perhaps indicative that my favorite teachers
before college were during this time frame, my 1st and 2nd
grade teachers, Mrs. Cagle and Mrs. Cain.
I remember during one or both of these school years that we would ‘take a
break’ from class work and to go to the library. At that age the great thing about going to
the library was we were able to move about freely with our friends between the
numerous shelves and our library felt endless.
I still feel a sense of awe walking into a library, thinking about the
so many words that have been have been contained within so few pages; I have
also maintained the habit of reading to ‘take a break’ from work.
My early experiences reading and writing up until
about the 5th grade are perhaps my favorite encounters with English
and grammar if only for their simplicity.
I read the books in the library to earn “Rapid Reader” points and I read
to read. I don’t remember having to do a
whole lot of tedious book reports or being told that I had to read a certain
book. Sometime around middle school and
junior high that all changed. I’m not
sure if it was the books that were chosen for us to read or the fact that I was
being told to read them, either way I decidedly no longer liked reading.
My senior year of high school, Mrs. Starkey
reignited that spark I had had for reading and writing. We read The
Canterbury Tales and she had so many interesting stories that went along
with the tales; stories about her travels to England and through Europe. We spent several weeks reading Shakespeare
and thinking back now I remember that Mrs. Starkey was the teacher that taught
me to read for meaning; to consider not only the word itself but the sentence,
the paragraph, and the context in which it was written.
If my experiences are any suggestion of how other
students have ever felt then I can empathize.
I feel that I made the most progress parsing when I was guided to
develop my style instead being pushed to conform to a standard. I hope that by having my students ‘take a
break’ to read and write will inspire them to not only develop their own styles
but to also develop their own thoughts.
