Learning to Read

Much like the average Kindergarten student, I sat at my desk with my over sized pencil gripped in a shaking sweaty little fist and slowly started the practiced curves of my name. G. I. N. A. Learning to read and write for me was a bit of a challenge I want to say. If I remember correctly I hated going out into the hall to run through my letter flashcards and was bored with it. I loved my mom reading me stories at bedtime. And my thought was, 'Why should I learn if I have her?' Eventually I caved in and became obsessed with books, by the fifth grade I had a high school reading level and was pursuing books that were beyond most kids in my class. English was my favorite subject, but I didn't learn how to spell my full name until a fourth grade history class when we learned about the state of Virginia.
I remember the painful nights at the kitchen table with my mom begging me to read her one line out of the book. Once I learned to read she and I would read story after story and talk about what we liked best from the book and things we didn't like, and do research on things we didn't know. My mom is probably one of my main literacy sponsors, if we use Brandt's terminology. She knew I would come around, she dug down and sailed through my resistance. My teachers were amazed at my flying colors on my response to things read in class and my English work. I still enjoy reading to this day, but unfortunetly since starting college I have not had much free time to crack a nonacademic book for fun. Which I do not like! Reading can be an escape and give you an alternate life to live for a short time and take you on adventures far beyond what you can really do in life.