First Experience Reading and Writing
As a child, I remember sitting on a colorful rug decorated with shapes, animals and lettering. I was in head start; my teacher would eagerly read to us the fairy tale of “The Three Little Pigs”. She would slowly read word by word then flip the book so we could see the beautiful illustration. Once she finished reading the book we rushed to our tiny tables to draw picture summaries of what Mrs. Holmes read to us. I often cannot recall my first reading or experience nor when I realized how or when I began was but memory is a starting area of where I would have presumed to begin.
My love for reading continued throughout my elementary years well on into my preteen years. Reading was my escape from reality. However, it was not until about my last year of middle school when I was discouraged from reading. I feel as though I stopped reading because it was as if I did not need an escape from reality anymore. I started fitting in with my peers, more people liked me, and for once, I was a part of more peer activities. Therefore, I did not have any more time for reading which turned out to maybe be a not so good thing.
My experience with reading has been seemly pleasant until a few years ago, although, reading is not a priority anymore thought out time it has started to spark interest here and there. I have had some great teachers throughout the years that showed me how to enjoy reading more and how to continue to keep an ongoing relationship with read. Today I do not much time to read due to my busy life. The only reading I am able to do is on the internet, of course, that only consist of information of personal interest. Although, I only read things of my personal interest I wouldn’t necessarily say I hate reading like Megan Ahern but I would have to agree on the disfavor on reading material from most of my professor of my past and present. However, I do hope from this point forward to reconnect with the love of reading I had in my younger days.
On the other hand, I have always had a passion for writing, for some reason it always be attraction as soon as I learned how. When I was learning how to write my mom would draw the perfect example on a piece of paper. Then tell me to trace it as many times as I needed to then, draw the same letter below. Of course, mine was nowhere near as neat and precise as hers was but she would applaud me, smoother me with kisses, and hug me all in the same motion.
Once I learned the concept of the basics to writing, I sat around all day and writing made up stories. I would usually run up to my mom with about five stories a day I came up with and if that was not enough my horrible little childish illustrations I drew. However, my mom would stop what she was doing, listen to, and look at my little