Surprise, surprise: I am without a doubt a bookworm. Since I was in elementary school, I devoured books. Something magical happened when I would open a book and dive into the stories.
It wasn’t always this way. Full disclosure: I did not like to read until second grade. I was able to understand what the pages wanted to tell me since preschool, but I did not want to cooperate with what they said. Instead, I put my own version of what was illustrated on the pages. The budding creative writer rears its head here. Yet, people took this to mean I could not read or was having difficulties, so I was put in extra lessons to help me. I refused to cooperate. I was a little bit of a rebel as a child. Oops.
Then an epiphany hit me in second grade. My teacher, Mrs. Nadolski, placed everyone in class in reading groups where we would each read a different book. I was placed in a group where the main character’s brother was deaf. At the time, I did not know what being deaf meant, and quickly became engrossed with what occurred in the book. I do not remember what the actual title was, but it did spawn my interest in reading. I found that books could allow you to live through something that you otherwise may not experience. It entraps you for a few moments of your life and whispers to you about adventures and characters that both amaze, horrify, or entertain you.
From that point on, I inhaled books. I quickly moved to advanced reading levels and devoured novel after novel. I frequented the elementary school library. When classes did not capture my attention fully, I read under my desk until a teacher would catch me and take away the book. Again, I was a little rebel. I was grounded once because my teacher told my parents how she would have to take away my books so I would pay attention in class. Looking back, it’s a little funny. Of all things to get in trouble for, I got in trouble for reading.
In fifth grade, I read the most pages. Sixth grade I was featured in a student spotlight for reading Inkheart by Cornelia Funke in one day (to be fair, I was homesick that day, so I had nothing to do but read). To put this in perspective, Inkheart is over 500 pages. To this day, it is one of my favorite books to return to. My copy is well worn and loved. In seventh grade, Mr. Hutchinson would hand me the pile of student reading logs because more often than not I would have over half of them anyway. It saved him time.
Though I may not read as much as I would like to now that I am older and have more commitments, I still make time to read. I often read before bed to relax me. One of the first things I did when coming home for the summer was take my little sister to the public library. I checked out 13 books to get me started.