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Importance of reading of reading
Importance of reading of reading
Reading importance
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Ever since I was a little girl, about the age of seven, reading was never one of my favorite things. It was painful to sit there as my mom forced me to sound out the words as I struggled through each sentence. Most of the books that taught me to read were the collections of golden books, such as “Scuffy” and “The Pokey Little Puppy.” They were never my favorites, but I read them because at the time, I was forced to read. I vividly remember my mom tucking me and my sister in bed every night, to then head back downstairs to what was known as her side of the couch. Even though I was supposed to be falling asleep at that time, I never did. I would get out of my bed and peek out around the wooden door frame to see my mother sitting there quietly …show more content…
It wasn’t until I got a little older, around the age of thirteen, that I realized how wonderful reading could be as a hobby, and how it could take you so many places that you had never been. It was a cold and dark November night and my parents and I were off to parent teacher conferences at school. As we entered the school, there was a buzz of children my age walking around with books while talking excitedly to their parents. Since this was my first conference that I was dragged to, I had no idea what to expect. As we entered the library there were these huge metal book shelves that were on wheels that were opened with all kinds of books in them. My mom explained to me that it was called a book fair, and that you could buy books and other little items such as pencils and book markers there. She told me to stay there and look around and watch my sister while they went in and spoke with my …show more content…
I began to read the back, trying not to bend any of the corners and found that it started to intrigue me. Not only did the pastel Easter colors of all the books catch my eye, but the fact that the collection is about a red headed orphan named Anne, Anne of Green Gables. This was the first novel that I had ever actually took a close look at, let alone one that was actually written for someone my age! I could not put down reading each book, and I continued to read the back of each book of the collection and I came to the conclusion that I wanted to know more of the
The first thing a child learns how to do in school is to read and write. I, unlike most of my classmates, didn’t actually know how to read fluently until the first grade. I remember my Kindergarten class had to read The Polar Express on our own and I was only able to guess what the book was saying. My friend’s dad had to read to me while she read on her own. Reading wasn’t practiced much at home. In fact, my mother doesn’t even remember reading to me, “I don’t remember, but I know I read to you at some point.” The only book I ever found and looked through in my house was my father’s algebra book. That algebra book became my favorite book since I didn’t really have anything else to read. However, after getting the hang
Ever since I was a child, I've never liked reading. Every time I was told to read, I would just sleep or do something else instead. In "A Love Affair with Books" by Bernadete Piassa tells a story about her passion for reading books. Piassa demonstrates how reading books has influenced her life. Reading her story has given me a different perspective on books. It has showed me that not only are they words written on paper, they are also feelings and expressions.
My grandmother introduced me to reading before I’d even entered school. She babysat me while my parents were at work, and spent hours reading to me from picture books as my wide eyes drank in the colorful illustrations. As a result, I entered my first year of school with an early passion for reading. Throughout elementary and middle school, I was captivated by tales of fire-breathing dragons, mystical wizards, and spirited foreign gods. A book accompanied me nearly everywhere I went, smuggled into my backpack or tucked safely under my arm. I was often the child who sat alone at lunch, not because she didn’t have friends, but because she was more interested in a wizards’ duel than the petty dramas of middle school girls. I was the child who passed every history test because she was the only kid who didn’t mind reading the textbook in her spare time, and the child who the school librarian knew by name. Reading provided a
Throughout my childhood I was never very good at reading. It was something I always struggled with and I grew to not like reading because of this. As a child my mom and dad would read books to me before I went to bed and I always enjoyed looking at the pictures and listening. Then, as I got older my mom would have me begin to read with her out loud. I did not like this because I was not a good reader and I would get so frustrated. During this time I would struggle greatly with reading the pages fluently, I also would mix up some of the letters at times. I also struggled with comprehension, as I got older. My mom would make me read the Junie B. Jones books by myself and then I would have to tell her what happened. Most
From a baby to a grade schooler, I had an extremely short attention span; therefore, the only time I enjoyed having books read to me was before bedtime. Because I was energetic, my mother was forced to lock the door while she was reading so I would not scurry out of the room. Despite my concentration issues, I enjoyed reading books with my mother. One of my favorite books was The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh because I was intrigued by the characters, especially Eeyore. When I moved on from my obsession with Winnie the Pooh, I transitioned into an obsession with frogs. My mother started reading Froggy books to me, such as Froggy Learns to Swim and Froggy Goes to School. Along with Froggy books, I took pleasure in reading Curious George and The Rainbow Fish because I was an inquisitive child who was entertained by the iridescent colors of the rainbow fish.
No one could ever comprehend the hatred I had for reading- no one. Reading to me was just like being deathly ill, stuck inside, watching the neighbors play and know you couldn't join. On Monday morning I sat down in my teacher Mrs. Daniels class. I had a strange feeling reading would be an assignment coming up soon. I was dreading what I knew she was going to say next. “Class you will have 4 weeks to complete this book.” As I heard these words come out of her mouth I lowered myself into my seat like a turtle slowly going into its shell. I felt as if I was drowning and no one could save me until my life was over. Not only did I hate reading but I hated it even more when I was forced to. I thought in my head, “Why. Why make us read a dumb book that will do nothing but take away my social life.” Never did I know the book I was about to read would have such an impact
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.
When I was a young child my mom would read me different type of books before I went to bed. The books she would read to me were fairy tale
Ever since I was a young child, I have loved to read. Whether it was Chet Gecko, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, A Series of Unfortunate Events or Animorphs, or Diary of a Wimpy Kid, they all provided me with hours of entertainment and an escape from everyday life. Throughout elementary and middle school, I read constantly and frequently visited the library to find new volumes to digest. Each novel was it’s own world, a new adventure with new friends along the way and an opportunity to travel the world, through time and dimensions, with only the time that you spent reading, in exchange. One year in
At first, she was skeptical. But it turned out that the only people from our project who had taken out books before were my older sisters, and they had returned them, so I was allowed to take out one, me, a sweaty little boy, but just one book, as an experiment. Michener's Tales of the South Pacific was the book that struck me that first summer of reading, opening up a world beyond my tiny world. I was deliriously excited by my adventures in the South Pacific, but when I returned the book two days later, the librarian thought I hadn't read it.
When I grew older, I loved reading The Babysitter's Club series. Each time I bought a Babysitter’s Club book, it had a section in the back where a girl could sign up to be part of what was known as The Babysitter’s Club. All a girl had to do was fill out the back portion of the book and send it in to a mailing address. It took about three weeks for a package to arrive at my house. It was fun being part of the club because I received three different books, bumper stickers, buttons, pencils, mirrors, and other things I thought were cool every month. They were the only books that existed in my life. I loved reading the series and wondering what the next story would be about.
As so happens often, unexpected challenges arose during my high school career: I gave birth to my daughter near the end of my sophomore year. While balancing school work and the responsibilities of motherhood, I find time to read a book with my child. I believe reading together is a special way to bond. She will always grab a book and sit next to me and insist, “Mommy book!” I believe every parent should know exactly why childhood reading is important. I would like to educate other parents the very
I had been begging my mom to take to take me to the library so I could pick out some books that I had an interest in reading. When my mom had finally found time to take me. I was bouncing up and down in my seat the whole way there clutching a piece of paper with the picture of the book I wanted that my mom helped me find on the libraries website. I remember walking in and seeing the colorful bindings on the shelves. The smell of books and the leather of the couches surrounded me, as I walked straight to the kids fantasy section. I was a girl on a mission. My eyes scanning the shelves looking for that colorful orange and blue binding I had heard so much about. When my eyes found that blue and orange binding I was looking for I ripped it from the shelves, and ran to my mom jumping up and down begging her to let me get it.I had never read a fantasy book before and I had wanted to read this book since the beginning of the school year. But my mom’s answer always had been “ When you finish your school books then you can read it.” That day in July I finally got what I had asked for, for seven months. As soon as I got home I ran upstairs and climbed up the ladder to the comfort of my bed on the top bunk. I leaned my back up against the wall, pulled my blankets over my legs, and started on the first chapter. The chapter title of The Boy Who Lived immediately grabbed my attention. As I started to read this book it was nothing like I had read before.
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
Reading has been a part of my life from the second I was born. All throughout my childhood, my parents read to me, and I loved it. I grew up going to the library and being read to constantly. Especially in the years before Kindergarten, reading was my favorite thing to do. I grew up loving fairy tales and thriving on the knowledge that I could have any book I wanted, to be read to me that night. Having no siblings, my only examples were my parents, and they read constantly. Without a family that supported my love of reading throughout my childhood, I wouldn’t appreciate it nearly as much as I have and do now.