A little personal history…

Part I: Reading

In first grade, when I was six years old, I was in the remedial reading group. My teacher told my mom to have me read anything I wanted for fifteen minutes a day all summer. It sucked, we fought, but my mom’s no quitter so I had to do it. And it paid off. In second grade I was in the mainstream group and by third grade I was advanced.

I regularly read for fun from middle school onward, took honors/AP English in high school, and almost became an English teacher. (The reason I didn’t is a long story for another time but my English minor was the most enjoyable of all my college coursework.)

I occasionally helped out in my mom’s elementary classroom during my college breaks. If I pulled kids out for reading intervention, I always told them that I struggled when I was young but now loved to read. I had one kid latch onto that meeting with me, turning it into inspiration and drive, and he progressed so much that his mom emailed me updates for a while. How cool is that?

I had a chunk of years where I was working full-time with a long commute and a tiny human to raise so I didn’t read much. I noticed this reality with disdain. After about a year as a full-time parent, I put a reminder in my phone “to read” like it was a chore so I would prioritize it. Kid number one was in school full-time by then so while kid two was napping I checked that reading task off my list. After a few weeks, reading was a habit again. Then a lifestyle.

I rediscovered the wonder of my huge library network and books dominated my life. And then I discovered bookstagram and shouted, “Yes! Where have you been all my life?”

I love sharing my bookishness on social media. I’m proud of all the reviews I have posted to Goodreads this past year (and I recently started sharing them on Twitter).

I hope to keep reading and reviewing books until the end of my days.