My Reading Autobiography

My Reading Autobiography

            I cannot remember a time in which I was not able to read. I have always loved reading- looking at the words and decoding their meanings… I feel like I have always been able to read. I know this is not true, but I believe this feeling comes from the fact that I have always been surrounded by books.

            As a small child, my parents read to me every night. My mom or dad would take turns “tucking me in” to bed. My mom would lie next to me- holding a book above our heads with outstretched arms. I would look at the colorful pages as she read the book with imaginative voices. Each character had a different voice, and it made the story so real. I always was excited to have my dad read to me. It certainly didn’t happen as often as my mother’s tale-telling; so when it did, it was an event. My dad would sit next to me and do the same sort of voices as my mom, but slightly different. I remember my dad insisting that we end our reading time with a tale from Uncle Remus and Brer Rabbit. He loved those stories, despite their underlying themes. I loved reading- I loved looking at the pictures and turning the pages when I thought it was the “right time” to change the page.

            The first books I can remember reading were the golden bound story books, known as “Little Gold Books”. The collection has a golden spine with small animals and characters outlined in black on the binding of the books. I had dozens of them- lining the walls of my room and lining the surfaces of my book shelf. I also remember a giant blue book full of nursery rhymes, though I cannot recall its title or its author. I loved that book- it was full of exciting stories and poems that I had heard in school. Each page was dedicated to its own rhyme, and the entire page was illustrated to depict the rhyme. I would spend hours with that book, sprawled out in the middle of my playroom. Sometimes, I wouldn’t understand the rhyme, so I would look at the pictures instead- I would try to understand the rhymes through the pictures.  I can particularly remember trying to make sense of “Little Jack Horner”, who was pictured sitting in a corner with a plump, delicious-looking pie. His thumb was sticking into the top with purple ooze climbing up his hand.

            Of the Little Gold Book stories, there are few, that I can recall the most. My favorite is The Monster at the End of this Book. The story’s main character is Grover; he speaks to the reader in first person, warning against turning the next page. Despite Grover’s warnings, the reader follows the furry blue character through the story. Each time the page is turned, Grover fusses at the reader. He insists that the reader should not turn another page. He is afraid of reaching the end of the book, for he knows there is a monster at the end. The interactive nature of this book captivates the reader into turning the next page in order to figure out the nature of the mysterious monster. Finally, the reader reaches the end of the story. Instead of discovering a terrible, scary monster, Grover is the only one on the page. Then, Grover realizes it- he’s the monster at the end of the book! He isn’t scary at all- he’s just furry, lovable Grover from Sesame Street! The ending of this book still makes me smile. It’s such a great resolution to the potentially frightening ending of this children’s mystery.

            One of my favorite memories of this is story is reading it with my Oma, my mother’s mom, my grandmother. I can remember lying down, comparing our blonde hair. I can remember Oma attempting to do Grover’s voice with little success, making me laugh out loud through the story. I remember Oma being confused about the story’s unique narration. My favorite part was seeing Om’s reaction to the ending- I was so surprised that story actually fooled her!

            Between the ages of three and twelve, my mom would take my younger brother and me to the library on a weekly basis. Because our house was so close the local library, we would walk; it was about a mile and a half. We would spend an hour or so- grazing the shelves of the children’s section. I would always pick up Chika Chika Boom Boom as a young child. I’d never check it out; I would just read it in the aisle of the library.  Sometimes, the librarians would have special readings. They would use puppets to help tell the stories.

            As I grew older, I ventured into the “teen section”. I’ve discovered, over the years, that this section is really meant for the younger teens. As an older teenager, one usually explores the “young adult” section; it seems like libraries insist on pushing us readers to the next level. As I ventured into the teen section, I discovered the series, The Baby-sitter’s Club. I read every single one! I realized that I had anew found love for reading books that were a part of a series. I love getting to know characters and following them through all of their many adventures throughout various stories.

            In middle school and high school, I discovered that I loved assigned reading. It is kind of an oxymoron- a student who thrives off of required reading lists. I realized that I would never have experienced some of the best books I ever read if it was not for teachers requiring them to be read. My two favorite of these are The Outsiders and The Count of Monte Cristo. In eighth grade, Mrs. Richardson, my favorite teacher on this planet, required us to read The Outsiders. During this novel study, we were asked to discuss the themes and the deeper meanings of the text; this was the first time I was prompted to truly think critically about the books I was reading. It was during this school year that I developed my true love for reading and writing. Since then, I have decided to become a language arts teacher.

            I have truly been blessed with the amount of reading that was accessible to me as a child. I had an ample amount of books at home, and I visited the public library on a weekly basis. I never felt trapped as a reader. I could choose any amount of books I wanted at the library- my reading world was limitless. With that being said, I believe my reading spectrum could have certainly been widened. Despite my mother’s presented freedom in my book choice, I steered away from multicultural books. I really have no idea why I did this. I chose books with covers that typically pictured white girls or women. Books with African American, Native American, or Asian characters depicted on the front were unappealing to me. I don’t know why this was… perhaps because I was afraid I would not understand books from a perspective different from my own. My parents and teachers should have presented me with more options of texts that dealt with cultural diversity. Reading such books could have increased my understanding of the world and those who were different than me.

            My reading activity currently seems to sadly be more efferent than aesthetic. I am constantly reading articles on pedagogical methods or textbooks on the importance of authentic teaching and learning. It is almost exhausting. On top of all this interesting, but dry, reading, I am reading countless middle-grade-level novels. Though some of the novels are far too rushed for my liking (one to two novel in four days every week), I am appreciative for the opportunity to read them. As I mentioned before, I am a sucker for required reading. I feel as though I would have never picked up some of my favorite books without the assigned list.

            In years to come, I want to instill such a desire for reading in other young minds. Students should be constantly challenged in their reading and prompted to critically think about the text. I am so excited to (hopefully) become a student’s Mrs. Richardson in the near future.

           

References

Archambault, J. & Martin, B. (1989). Chika chika boom boom, illustrated by Lois Ehlert. New York: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers.

Carey, H. (1725). Little Jack Horner.

Dumas, A. (1846). The count of monte cristo. Paris: Petion. In London: Chapman and Hall.

Harris, J. C. (1907). Uncle Remus and brer rabbit. New York: Frederick A. Stokes.

Hinton, S. E. (1967). The outsiders. New York: Viking Press.

Martin, A. M. (1986-1993). The baby-sitter’s club. New York: Scholastic.

Stone, J. (1971). The monster at the end of this book: Starring lovable, furry old Grover, illustrated by Michael Smollin. Racine, WI: Golden Books, Western Publishing Company.