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Feb. 28th, 2007 07:37 pmWritten in my journal for lit class. The topic of discussion today was "How do you read?"
I want to take a break from discussing the stories because I was sparked by the discussion we had in class today on reading. I was surprised at how many other people's sentiments echoed my own. Reading has always been a part of my life. My parents are both librarians, and I learned to read when I was two years old. I read voraciously as a child both out of a love for books and a need to be immersed in another world. I remember an instance in the sixth grade, when my class had just returned from the library. My teacher was inspecting the books we'd checked out. I'd chosen four or five "fluff" books: Babysitters Club and the like. He looked at me. "Are these going to last you all week?" he asked. "These won't last me the weekend," I replied. He demanded that I return to the library for something more substantial. I remember being mad and humiliated; and I stormed into the library and grabbed the thickest book I could find, which happened to be Watership Down. I wasn't able to finish the book that year, but I did finish it the next year as a seventh grader. It has been one of my favorite books ever since, and I reread it regularly. I've been having the urge to reread it again lately! Perhaps once spring break begins.
Reading is not just a pleasure for me, it is an escape. When I buy a new purse, I make sure that a book will fit inside it. No tiny purses for me! I hate being caught without a book. Growing up I was not well-liked. When the taunts began, it was a relief for me to slip into a happier and more imaginative scenario by pulling out a book, no matter where I was. I read in math class, much to the frustration of my math teachers. I read in lines. I read during lunch. I read on the bus. I read as I walked home. I discovered many wonderful new places and adventures that made life seem better than it really was.
I still read, but now I don't always get to pick the titles. Over winter break I was in the middle of three books, two non-fiction and one fiction. With the assigned reading I have, I often feel guilty if I try and do any of my pleasure reading during the quarter, so I'm still in the middle of those three books. I hope to finish them over the spring break, along with Watership Down. That's not to say I haven't enjoyed the books we've read this quarter, because for the most part I have. I just hate the lingering feeling of guilt attached to the books if I let them sit for too long.
I'll return to my discussion of the stories in my next entry, but after class I realized I had more thoughts about reading that I really wanted to share.
I want to take a break from discussing the stories because I was sparked by the discussion we had in class today on reading. I was surprised at how many other people's sentiments echoed my own. Reading has always been a part of my life. My parents are both librarians, and I learned to read when I was two years old. I read voraciously as a child both out of a love for books and a need to be immersed in another world. I remember an instance in the sixth grade, when my class had just returned from the library. My teacher was inspecting the books we'd checked out. I'd chosen four or five "fluff" books: Babysitters Club and the like. He looked at me. "Are these going to last you all week?" he asked. "These won't last me the weekend," I replied. He demanded that I return to the library for something more substantial. I remember being mad and humiliated; and I stormed into the library and grabbed the thickest book I could find, which happened to be Watership Down. I wasn't able to finish the book that year, but I did finish it the next year as a seventh grader. It has been one of my favorite books ever since, and I reread it regularly. I've been having the urge to reread it again lately! Perhaps once spring break begins.
Reading is not just a pleasure for me, it is an escape. When I buy a new purse, I make sure that a book will fit inside it. No tiny purses for me! I hate being caught without a book. Growing up I was not well-liked. When the taunts began, it was a relief for me to slip into a happier and more imaginative scenario by pulling out a book, no matter where I was. I read in math class, much to the frustration of my math teachers. I read in lines. I read during lunch. I read on the bus. I read as I walked home. I discovered many wonderful new places and adventures that made life seem better than it really was.
I still read, but now I don't always get to pick the titles. Over winter break I was in the middle of three books, two non-fiction and one fiction. With the assigned reading I have, I often feel guilty if I try and do any of my pleasure reading during the quarter, so I'm still in the middle of those three books. I hope to finish them over the spring break, along with Watership Down. That's not to say I haven't enjoyed the books we've read this quarter, because for the most part I have. I just hate the lingering feeling of guilt attached to the books if I let them sit for too long.
I'll return to my discussion of the stories in my next entry, but after class I realized I had more thoughts about reading that I really wanted to share.
