A Gift to Last a Lifetime

I love to read.  It's truly one of my favorite hobbies.  I remember the first time I went to a Barnes and Noble.  It was so huge and books were everywhere.  It was magical.  Reading holds a special place in my heart.  When I was younger, I couldn't read and it impacted my life in a major way.  Many of you don't know (some of you do) that I repeated first grade.  It was one of the most influential, embarrassing and difficult moments of my life.  I know you're probably thinking that's a little dramatic considering how young a first grader is but it's true.  Having to repeat a grade shaped who I would become.  When I was in first grade the first time, I couldn't read.  The school was using a new method to teach reading and it didn't click with my logic-based brain.  I was sent to the resource room to work on my reading.  Only it didn't have much of an effect.  My first grade teacher was young and inexperienced.  My parents weren't told the depth of my struggles with reading until 3rd quarter conferences when asked if they would consider holding me back.  The teacher waited too long to talk to my parents about my struggles.  If it had been brought to their attention earlier in the year, they could have worked with me at home to improve my reading.  But they didn't have time to do that before the end the school year.  My parents made the decision to yes, hold me back a grade.  It was the right decision.  The class I ultimately graduated with is the class I feel like I truly belonged in.  But at the time, for my young ego and heart, it was extremely difficult.  I had failed.  I had never failed at something so major and so publicly in my little life.  I cried the last day of school when I was told I wouldn't be going to second grade with the rest of my class.

My mom taught me to read the summer between first grades.  My aunt Colleen, my God mother, suggested my mom use the old Phonics method to teach me to read.  It was more logic based than the method the school used and Aunt Colleen felt it would make sense to my logic-based brain.  And it did.  My mom spent the whole summer working with me in the evenings, going over lessons in reading.  Phonics focuses on sounding out words.  At times it was really hard.  I would cry and say "But you don't care about me!" to which my mom would reply "No." (as in "No, that's not true.  I do care.").  Eventually she turned it into a game.  I couldn't say that phrase until the end of a lesson page in the Phonics textbook.  The Phonics series we used had little story books to go with the lessons.  I still remember the look of those books: small, simple type, maybe a black and white picture of the characters.  I loved reading those little books with their simple stories.  I was getting it.  I was reading.

By the time I began first grade the second time, I could read.  I don't remember much about my second year of first grade.  I had a different teacher than the previous year.  (My original teacher went to a different town after getting married, I think.)  I do remember there was a bully from my former class who was always sent to the hall for being in trouble and would call me stupid as I walked by.  And that hurt.  My best friend, Jennifer, and I were in the same grade which now, I'm thankful for.  She's been a huge part of my life since we were babies.  It was nice to have a friend in my new grade that year.  By second grade, I had more confidence in myself and my abilities.  My second grade teacher asked my mom why I was held back.  Upon learning the reason, she responded "You're kidding!  She's one of the best readers in the class."  I had caught up.  The fear of failure learned at such a young age stayed with me for a long time.  It took me a long time to learn that it's ok to fail.  It's ok to not be the best at everything.  

And so my faithful readers, after all of this, the struggles, the tears, the humiliation, came a love of reading.  Reading means so much to me, probably more than the average person.  It signifies that I am smart, that I am capable of things I didn't think I could do.