The First Book

I received a very wonderful compliment from Rayce's mom the other day. She told me that I am the more passionate about books than anyone she has ever.

When I was upset last weekend, Rayce looked at my To Be Read list with me and it made me feel much calmer and happier.

I am a reader. But I wasn't always a reader. I actually spent two years in the phonics program in elementary school and after that I was still barely scraping by. I remember being in sixth grade and having to choose between reading Old Yeller (the selection meant for the boys) and Where the Lilies Grow (the selection meant for girls) and being so frustrated that I could not read either book. I could make out the words but it all felt like gibberish to me. I didn't want to read either one. I wasn't a reader until junior high.

Currently I am reading a little nonfiction book called The Power of Reading by Stephen D. Krashen. The book was suggested at a conference I went to about bringing boys and books together and it is based on the theory that Free Voluntary Reading programs benefit children more than traditional English classes. The one point that really stood out was that most readers can tell you what their first book was, the book that made them want to read more and more.

Mine was Carrie by Stephen King. Before this book there were a few that I enjoyed reading but Carrie was the first book that I literally could not put down. I remember spending one late summer day, the entire day, sitting in my room. My back was against the wood frame of my bed and my feet planted on the wall, not the most comfortable position, and I read that book cover to cover. I couldn't put it down.

Strangely, I didn't pick up another King book until about a year later but I did read book after book after book until today.

Thank you, Stephen King, for making me a reader.