Laying on my comfortable bed under my warm covers with a chapter book in front of my face, I turned to the last page.
“It was a suc-cess-ful successful day,” read the final line in the book.
My heart racing and eyes growing wide, I began to ponder. Had I actually read a chapter book by myself? I sprang out of my bed and ran to inform my mom.
“Mommy, I just finished reading a chapter book all by myself!” I asserted with a wide smile engraved on my face.
“I’m so proud of you!” my mother responded. “I knew that you could do it!” My mother gave me an immense hug. At that moment, I realized that all of the long hours of practicing and reading had paid off. I could finally read a chapter book.
Since I was young, my parents made reading a priority
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My compassionate mom always tried to help me become a stronger reader and grow my vocabulary to increase my reading level. One night while she was baking dessert, I was on the couch reading alone. I was reading a Magic Tree House book that my mother and I had read together until the last chapter. With the smell of brownies baking in the oven as motivation, I proudly, yet quickly read the last sentence of the final chapter in the book. I screamed for joy and ran to spread the exciting news to my mom about me finishing that book. She cradled me and told me that she was proud of me. Finishing that book gave me the confidence to start a new book about Junie B. Jones. I climbed into my bed to start a book while listening to crickets chirp outside my window. I was able to read the majority of it easily, however there were a few parts that I struggled to read and asked for help with. Before too long, I could not keep my eyes open and fell …show more content…
Several days later, I sounded out and read the final line of the book. I ran to my mother in excitement with a colossal grin on my face. She gave me a ginormous hug and told me how proud she was. I was still in shock that I had completed my first chapter book. I never imagined that I would be able to read the entire book by myself. It seemed like a daunting task at first, but it slowly became more attainable as I practiced! With a sensation of pride and accomplishment streaming through my body, I knew I could use this skill for the rest of my life. The next day at school, I busted through the main doors and into Mrs. Carmichael’s classroom boasting about my reading accomplishment. Eagerly, she reached down to give me a high five and a temporal hug, which felt like a massive comforting and encouraging squeeze. Then, she explained how I would remember that moment for the rest of my
My parents have always stressed the importance of reading. Throughout my whole life, they have motivated me to read and they have encouraged me to find books that I find interesting to read. Because of their encouragement, I am an avid reader today. When I was a child, just starting to enjoy reading I liked to read books that were fiction. Some of my favorite books to read as a child are series that I still love today and I think I still have every book in each series stored in my attic. They are The Boxcar Children, Junie B. Jones, and The Magic Tree House.
When reading this book I began to think of how I grew up and how I am a
I was still sitting there for what felt like hours until I finally got halfway through the first chapter.
	"It mattered that education was changing me. It never ceased to matter. My brother and sisters would giggle at our mother’s mispronounced words. They’d correct her gently. My mother laughed girlishly one night, trying not to pronounce sheep as ship. From a distance I listened sullenly. From that distance, pretending not to notice on another occasion, I saw my father looking at the title pages of my library books. That was the scene on my mind when I walked home with a fourth-grade companion and heard him say that his parents read to him every night. (A strange sounding book-Winnie the Pooh.) Immediately, I wanted to know, what is it like?" My companion, however, thought I wanted to know about the plot of the book. Another day, my mother surprised me by asking for a "nice" book to read. "Something not too hard you think I might like." Carefully I chose one, Willa Cather’s My ‘Antonia. But when, several weeks later, I happened to see it next to her bed unread except for the first few pages, I was furious and suddenly wanted to cry. I grabbed up the book and took it back to my room and placed it in its place, alphabetically on my shelf." (p.626-627)
There are no words that can explain the feelings you can feel while reading a book. You can't control what happens, you want the knowledge of the story but you are unable to have them. Everyone knows you want to just turn to the last page and see what happens, but that's like cheating you, can't do that. This book, took, very much got my attention to these thoughts, i always wanted to know more. Daniel and Erica from the novel Took by Mary Hahn takes on life threatening challenges while they have to overcome them.
We were also required to read a certain amount of books to test on and write stories of our own. This meant that we had to take our knowledge to the test and find books that would interest us. As we went to the library once every week I was very eager to read many different books. I would go home and read so that I could try and finish books as fast as I could. Since I had nothing else to do as a child I always read after finishing my homework. Reading was my favorite thing to do because it kept me from feeling lonely or bored. My parents would see that I was trying my best to read as much as I could, which made them proud of me. They knew that I was capable of becoming a good reader and
My earliest memories can be found at the hands of paperback novels. Books were my escape from the world around me. The thrill of being able to leave behind the world and it’s baggage and enter another that books provided captivated me, and left an impact on me. The emotion I experienced solely from taking a small step into another person’s story was unlike any I had felt before. I desperately wanted others to feel what I had felt, and love whatever I had become entranced by with the same passion as I did.
Instead of mom reading children’s books to me, I read them to her. And if I stumbled upon something I didn’t know or understand, mom helped me out! Soon enough I started reading to her without stuttering of not knowing how to say a word. I started being able to sound out words easier and my fluency became much better than before. First grade came around and I started reading bigger books such as Junie B. Jones and also the Magic Treehouse books. Books became easier to read as I aged and the books I read were getting bigger and bigger. In 5th and 6th grade I read The Red Pyramid, The Throne of Fire, and The Serpents Shadow, a trilogy called The Kane Chronicles written by Rick Riordan. I thought these three books were the greatest three books ever written! I even thought they were better than the hunger games! Especially with the series being based around Egyptian gods and theology, and also managed to tie in kids around my age that I could relate to. Those books made me love reading more than I ever have and I would read them again if I had the time to. Once 8th grade came out along I decided to read a “big boy” book: DaVinci Code by Dan Brown. I thought I was so cool because I was reading a book that my parents have read. It has been the best book I have yet to read so far because it sparked my interest from the first sentence, to the last, there was intense suspense throughout the whole book and I could nonstop
Richard Wright, in his essay “Discovering Books,” explains how reading books changed his outlook on life and eventually his life itself. The first book that widened his horizons was an overtly controversial book by H. L. Mencken. I have a story not so dissimilar from his.
As a child, I have always been fond of reading books. My mother would read to me every single night before I went to bed and sometimes throughout the day. It was the most exciting time of the day when she would open the cabinet, with what seemed to be hundreds of feet tall, of endless books to choose from. When she read to me, I wanted nothing more than to read just like her. Together, we worked on reading every chance we had. Eventually I got better at reading alone and could not put a book down. Instead of playing outside with my brothers during the Summer, I would stay inside in complete silence and just read. I remember going to the library with my mom on Saturdays, and staying the entire day. I looked forward to it each and every week.
Under the busy streets, the fluorescent lights, and the hot summer night of New York City, I sat in complete silence itching to read the last few words. I didn’t want to be here in the first place. I wanted to be free. I wanted to play outside in the summer breeze of July while sucking on fruity Popsicle sticks. But my mother stopped me. She told me to stay here and finish the task saying that it will be for my own benefit. But as soon as I read the last two words of the last page, I quickly shut the book with a “bang” and ran from it as if it was a sin to be near the book.
I wasn’t focused long because the books were shorter. I still didn’t read much after that, but she did explain that I would know how to read after school and to be successful in
Reading was never something I fussed about growing up. As a child, I loved genres of realistic fiction. I was hooked on The New Adventures of Mary Kate and Ashley, Goosebumps, The Amazing Days of Abby Hayes, Judy Moody, and especially, Zoobooks and Highlights magazines. My mother was always ready to help build my reading and writing skills. She took me to the library constantly to feed my passion for books and knowledge. I loved exploring the shelfs, organizing the books, and filling up my library cart. I tried keeping a diary in elementary school to keep track of my outings with my parents and grandparents to museums, zoos, movies, and libraries. This flash of writing enthusiasm was spun from books I read in the 4th and 5th grade that were
My parents instilled a passion for reading in me even as a toddler; years later, an excellent,
Knowing this, books have usually been my only true escape.Though, there was one book in particular that brought my heart to my throat. It was the book next to my bed, laying there innocently yet still taunting me. The silver title blazes towards me. The words are beckoning me to feel the leather cover. I know that I am not worthy of looking upon it. I stand and stare, wanting to open these many stories to life and revival, but my hindering sight doesn't allow me to.