This Week: How I became a reader
I was raised in an intelligent family. My dad, who came to America from Bangladesh. And my mom, who became a teacher and then an assistant principal and is currently a principal at an elementary school. When my younger sister was born, I read the ABCs to her over and over because I wanted her to be smart. When I went to Kindergarten, I was already reading.
I don't know if I was self conscious or not, but my teacher told me I used tto read out loud on the carpet, and then when she actually came around trying to find out who was reading, I would stop.
Fast forward to first grade. The year of twisting teeth out of my mouth to get money and trying to convince other students that I knew how to read in my head.
Every summer my mother took us to the library and we took part in a reading challenge to get prizes. We went to Curious George's birthday and every time we grew out of a reading level, we would take our books, sell them at the bookstore, and use the money to get more books.
I wanted to read every book that had ever been written. But once my tetachers knew I was reading at a third grade reading level I wasn't allowed to catch up on all the second grade books I hadn't read yet.
In middle school no one liked me. I liked precious few people. I mostly read under a tree or in a hallway or in the choir room.
In high school I had a pair of pants with very big pockets. I had three books in my backpack, two in my purse, and one in either one of those pockets.
So mostly I'd like to thank my family and poor social skills for becoming a reader.
Next Week: My book rating system
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