Thanks, Donna, for giving me the prompt for today's post. How did I learn to read? What's my reading story? Obviously if I can gulp down an 700+ page book, then I must love to read.
My love of reading began at a early age. One of my first memories is sitting with my mom and reading a book I was given. I don't ever remember not reading, and unfortunately my parents don't really remember when I first started reading. But I do recall being able to read before I finished kindergarten.
I was well on my way to chapter books like Charlotte's Web in first and second grade. We read Charlotte's Web as a class when I was in third grade, and since I already knew the story and also was a pretty quick reader, I was ahead of my classmates. They, of course not believing that I was actually reading, accused me of faking.
I've always loved reading. I would check books out from the library constantly; I loved library time in school. There has always been a pleasure and intensity to reading that I found inescapable. And I was hooked on it.
I volunteered for librarians starting in seventh grade. Working in a library was not just a way to get out of boring study hall; when you walk around a library (smelling the books, touching the spines, reading the titles), you pick up books that look interesting and read them. Once, while working in the elementary school library, I attempted to make it through the entire Newberry Medal winner list. I got pretty far, too.
Books have been a huge part of my life. I wish I could remember more details about my first book, or how I started reading, but all I remember is just loving it and reading more. And perhaps that's just enough.