109 Pre-Assessment: My History As A Reader

I learned how to read at home when I was about three or four years old. I don't really remember much about the process of learning to read, but I remember that my older sister knew how to read and I wanted to be just like her. She, as well as my parents, showed me that reading was something fun and valuable and with their help, I was reading with ease-- or at least I don't remember it being too difficult.

The moments I remember most about reading all take place in elementary school. In the early years when I still attended public school, I was put in advanced reading classes. I didn’t really understand why, but I had more fun doing projects like writing my own Amelia Bedelia book than I did learning to write the letters with kids my own age. Still, my clearest memories from these years are my mistakes. Once, I was asked to read a list of words by my reading tutor, and I remember pronouncing the h in the word “heir.” As soon as I said it, I knew something was wrong, and I felt ashamed.

In third grade, I had to write weekly reading journals (just as I am attempting with my students now), and I consistently received mediocre comments on them week after week. Then, I started reading the Redwall series by Brian Jaques. My first journal after I started reading Mossflower, one of the first in the series, was praised by my teacher. I will always remember re-reading that journal entry and his comments, pleased with my success after struggling for so many weeks. I loved those books so much that I would spend my time on the playground acting out elaborate battle scenes between the mice and the rats.

In middle school I discovered short stories and was amazed by their ability to encapsulate a complicated message in so few words. In high school, I developed a love for Shakespeare. After struggling through Twelfth Night in eighth grade, I was delighted and amazed freshman year that I could actually understand A Midsummer Night’s Dream—especially the wit and the lewd jokes that were encoded by the confusing English. Through college, I have enjoyed reading and watching performances of several Shakespeare plays.

Upon reflecting about my experience as a reader over time, however, I think I've gotten lazier and challenge myself less than I did when I was a kid. Even in middle school and high school, I read flimsy teen fiction when I could have chosen something more substantial. In college, I read very little outside of my classes and found it hard to finish more than 3 or 4 recreational reads per year. It makes me sad when I realize that I may not be practicing what I preach when I tell my students to read at home every night. Of course, they don't have lesson plans to write, but maybe if I made a little more time for my own reading, I would better be able to share with my students how important it is.

The one book that has always been my favorite since I read it in high school is Gone With the Wind. I devoured it on a trip to China, but even while I was surrounded by fascinating new sights, I couldn’t leave Scarlett behind for one moment. Her character, alone, made the book real to me, and I know I cried more than once over her plight. It was this book that made me realize that what makes a literary experience meaningful is the passion I derive from it. The books I have read that are the most memorable to me are the ones that evoked strong emotion in me, whether it be joy or pity or awe. To become the teacher I want to be--one who instills passion for learning in her students--I need to recapture this feeling of passion in my own reading and communicate it to my students so that they can find that one book that they absolutely love. I want all of them to find their Mossflower, a book that makes them want to read and write and act and talk about it, and I want to find my next Gone With The Wind.