Week 7 Essay: Memories of Reading

The first memory I have of reading is my mom reading a Bible story to my sister and I in our room. She would read to us every night, but this is the first time that I remember looking at the page and noticing that there was more than just pictures on the page. My mom explained to me that she was reading what was written on the page and not just making stuff up from the illustrations. I was very impressed since I had no idea how it worked. To me, reading was basically a kind of magic that I did not know how to do.

The next step in my reading journey was when I was in kindergarten. I am the youngest of four (three older sisters), so all my siblings learned to read and write a very long time before I did. One night, I went into my dad's office and saw two of my sisters reading in a chair and my dad reading at his desk. I got very jealous very quickly, so I walked up to my dad and asked him to teach me to read. He told me I would learn soon in school, but I was stubborn and told him that I wanted to learn now.

Children who are much less confused than I was when learning how to read. 

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My dad first explained that the page was made of paragraphs which were made of sentences, which were made of words, which were made of letters. So, he told me that I just needed to know what sounds the letters made and I would be set. He pointed to the first word on the page. The word was something along the lines of "everything" and I immediately told him that it was impossibly long. He agreed and went to "and." Now, I know the "a" sound and "d" and he helped me with the "n." However, I could not understand why it did not make three syllables.

This lesson continued and the same problem kept happening. It was probably about five minutes, but I was convinced that there were way too many letters and words and I would never be able to read. Fortunately for me, my first grade teacher was a genius for teaching how to read, and I could read small books by the end of the first semester. I also learned to really like those books because I could be like my big sisters and be in on my newfound magic skills that turned symbols into stories. I know that my dad actually did a pretty good job of trying to teach me, but it is probably for the best that I was quickly retaught by someone else.