I am fortunate enough to have many early experiences with books. Being the first child of my family, my parents spent a lot of time in my “development” as they normally do with firstborns. Therefore, I recall many picture books. My favorite was The Fox and the Hound. I revel in the opportunities my mom takes in telling me how that was the first book I learned how to read…before I learned how to read. I begged her or my dad to read that particular book to me every night that I had memorized it cover to cover. My second favorite book just so happened to be Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham. I also continue to take pride in the story of Green Eggs and Ham and Sheena. I could read that book front to back in two minutes flat—yes…I time myself. I thought it was pretty impressive seeing as how that was a relatively lengthy Dr. Seuss book. The other major early childhood reading memory I have stored away remained a tradition until my mom and dad divorced and my mom moved out the summer before my senior year (3 ½ years ago). Every Christmas Eve my dad, mom, younger brother, and I would all sit together and read The Night Before Christmas before my brother and I would go to bed. Even after Aaron (my brother) and I had stopped believing in Santa, we would still maintain this tradition. We discontinued this tradition because it just felt wrong doing it once my mom left.
Throughout elementary school, I was everyone’s pride and joy when it came to reading. I checked them out from the school’s and town’s library, and I was also that weird nine-year-old who requested books for her birthday. Therefore, I obviously flipped my wig when the Harry Potter series came out. I believe I have read the entire series about eight times and own all of the movies available despite my agony over the way the sixth movie was executed.
There was never a period of time when I didn’t read even in junior high when I experienced what most would describe hell. Between losing most of my elementary friends to the cheerleading clique and developing some of the worst friends I have ever had, I still managed to keep reading.
In high school I started getting heavily into adolescent literature of course. During that time, some of my favorite books were Cut by Patricia McCormick, Go Ask Alice by anonymous, and any piece of paper that Ellen Hopkins had ever set a pen to. As a whole, I became extremely interested in fiction and non-fiction revolving around the following topics: self-injury, drug and alcohol use, and sex. Therefore, my parents became slightly less enthused about my love of reading. But I was keeping my grades and a part-time job along with striving in soccer and bowling; so I guess they couldn’t complain too much.
After I graduated high school, I kept reading as much as I possibly could, but my schedule got slightly more difficult after obtaining a full time third shift job as well as a consistent fifteen credit hour load at school. So as soon as I noticed that a course was offered within my major’s requirements to read adolescent literature for a grade, I jumped on it. I hope this course will jumpstart me back into my old reading ways while I am taking it and after the semester is over.
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