Erica Richardson

Ms. Suzanne Thomas

UWRT 1101-109
25 September 2014
While writing this paper, I sat staring at a blank sheet of paper for about 30 minutes before I
began any brain storming. But once I started the ides flowed generously. I had to narrow down
my topics to like 5-6 from 15-20. It wasnt easy choosing which ones to include and which ones
to leave out, but I know you all dont like reading 20 page papers so youre welcome. I also tried
to make it a little funny, but Im not funny, so I dont know how thats going to turn out, but give
me some credit for trying. There are definitely some strong points in this paper, and Im sure
there are weak ones, but there is bias because, well, its MY paper. So if you read it, let me know
what you think. Im open to all suggestions.
Its a Love- Hate Thing
I learned to read when I was 3. I know crazy, right? But it wasnt until I was about 7 or 8
that I really developed an interest in reading. At home I didnt get the usual upbringing of
bedtime stories every night or rhymes related to the cow [that] jumped over the moon. My
desire to read came from my elementary school teacher and my day care teacher. Most people
would agree that teachers are the ones that lead them to enjoy a particular subject over another.
However, although it was teachers that turned me onto reading, it was also teachers that made me
come to hate- which, in my opinion, is a rather strong term, but it works- reading and books. But
I will start at the beginning and then we will go from there.
I grew up in a single parent household. My parents separated when I was 3. It was just
my mom, my younger brother and I in a small apartment in a sketchy sector of Greensboro.

Now, being that my mom had to raise two small children by herself, we certainly werent the
wealthiest, but we were not poverty stricken either. It was because of these circumstances,
however, that we didnt have many books lying around. Maybe a Dr. Seuss here or there, a book
of colors in the corner of the room, Brown Bear Brown Bear looking at me from the spot on the
couch where it had been left the night before. So, the only books I ever really had to read during
this time were the ones sent home for homework or those in the classrooms at school.
Jefferson Elementary School is where the magic happened. It was third grade, to be
exact. I had a teacher, named Ms. Lotz. I would have to say that out of all the teachers Ive ever
had, Ms. Lotz was the best. She always had lesson plans that engaged us in whatever we were
learning that day and lucky for me I was in a school where, up until 5th grade, you had the same
teacher ALL DAY. Mrs. Lotz would always tell us stories about the trouble her and her brother
would get into when she was our age, at the time, about her dog who would only want to go
outside to poop so he would get a treat, and just about anything else that popped into her mind at
that point in class. Anyways, back on the subject. She would read to us almost every day; we
would pick a chapter book as a class then read a chapter or two before we went to lunch. My
favorite was The City of Ember. Now, she didnt just read to us in a monotone, boring, I-hatemy-job voice; no, she changed her voice for each character, you could hear the emotion of the
narration in every word she read. How Ms. Lotz read to us in class is how I read books in my
head, it's how I came to love reading. Being able to create a movie in your head as you read the
words of the line, of the paragraph, of the page, of the book is an amazing feeling to me. I feel
like Im in the scene with the characters and experiencing the same situation as them.
My day care teacher, Mrs. Daniels at Creative World Childcare, definitely increased this
feeling every Friday. Just like in Ms. Lotzs class before lunch, every Friday my teachers would

read us a few chapters from the well-known Junie B. Jones. Ms. Daniels would also change her
tone and pitch when reading the dialogue of a character to make the reading more realistic. But
waitTHERES MORE! (I know that was probably so lame.) She also allowed us to choose
parts to act out in front of the class. One girl would be Junie B. Jones (deciding this part was
always a challenge, because every girl in our class wanted to be her; I guess you could say that
we got a taste of high school way early), a few other girls would be her friends, someone would
be the teacher, another would be the boy in the story that picked on Junie B., and two more
people would be her parents. During that year of day care, I believe I was in third grade this year
as well, Friday afternoons were the highlight of my week; and when youre in elementary school,
usually every day at recess is the highlight of your week, so this says a lot. We would lose track
of time, we would forget that snack was brought to the room and not realize it until it was time
for everyones parent to come get them. Just as the Chinese have years of animals (Year of the
Rat or Year of the snake for example), this was the Year of Reading to me. I was always so
engaged in everything I read, wanting to read it aloud to my mom using different voices for the
characters, or wanting her to read it aloud to me, so I could perform my own one-man show.
Doesnt that sound like fun reading? Thats because it was fun. At least, it was before
reading became a grade-based skill. Once I made it to Guilford Middle School, more specifically
7th grade, reading stopped being fun. It was boring, unengaging, and was only important because
it would be on the next test. None of my teachers really gave me an opportunity in class to read
freely, to read whatever I wanted that was not published by Pearson Education. Books became
all about: do you know the characters? What the theme is? What is the setting? What is the
conflict and what is the resolution? That was nowhere near interesting to me; and that may
explain why my English/Language Arts grade dropped from an A+ average to about a B-/C+

average. Dont judge please. If I could respectfully phrase this question, I would ask my middle
and high school teachers: Why do you think making us look for this meaning less crap in stories
were only going to forget is fun? Have you ever had an English/Language Arts teacher say,
Alright, so now were going to do a fun activity. Im sure you have at some point, with any
teacher. Im also sure youve seen everybody in that class make the same face as the iPhone
emoji that looks like this -_-. Wonder why? Because the activity is almost NEVER fun. I feel
like teachers say this to intentionally piss us off, because they already know were not going to
like it. However, we still do it because if we dont we fail, and nobody likes to fail.
Even all throughout high school, that grade average I mentioned remained about the
same. I just didnt like to read anymore; which is a shame because Im sure there are a million
great books out there that I would be interested in. Some of the book I read in my classes were
actually good books, but because I had to constantly analyze and synthesize that didnt matter to
me. So, I ignored all possible urges to read it for myself out side of class because all I would
think about while reading was the theme of temptation in The Portrait of the Artist as a Young
Man by James Joyce, or the motif of the supernatural in Beloved, by Toni Morrison (or
something way outside of my thinking box).
Now, in more recent days, I still only read when it is necessary for class. The only
difference, however, is that I taught myself to read for pleasure first then go back and read it
again for whatever assignment I am being asked to complete. Not many people can do that,
especially if it is a considerably longer work. I wish I had still kept in contact with my third
grade teacher so that I could talk to her about what reading was like for her, if she had the same
issue I had with reading, and how she overcame that obstacle. I really do believe reading is fun
and that it can be the best escape for anybody in the world. However, if you dont have those

outside influences and encouragement, everything you read is just going to be another book,
another story, another essay, another article. All will simply be another word, on a line, in a
paragraph, on a page, in a book.