A Word From a Rebellious Reader….

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At 15, I wanted to be a fashion designer…not a reading specialist or literacy consultant. In fact, reading was the last thing on my mind. After all, whoever heard of getting a date from reading a book?
Fast forward one year to the summer between my sophomore and junior year. My sister graduated college and came home with a box of YA books to use in her 6th grade classroom that coming fall. The books were relatively short, and (after hearing her tell me about some of them) I figured it couldn’t hurt to read one while I sprawled out in the sun.
That was the summer I walked the Bridge to Terabithia, met the Indian in the Cupboard, got swept away in A Wrinkle in Time, and was captured by The Giver. I also mindlessly got lost in Goosebumps and Sweet Valley High. Literature…not really. High school level…no. Fun, interesting, absolutely unassigned…yes!
Fast forward 20 years. My Kindle is full of the books I never read. Hemingway, Austen, Twain, Alcott, Dickinson…I want to read them now–not for symbolism, theme, and motifs…just because….because I don’t HAVE to.

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