Personal Narrative: Why I Hate Reading

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I used to hate reading. I would whine and procrastinate every time a reading assignment was given, and then I would trudge through the book, hating it the whole time. As far back as I can remember we had to read books and take tests on them to earn points. We stopped doing that around seventh grade, but for years I would do the bare minimum to receive those points, usually reading a bunch of easy books to accumulate points. In fourth grade I attempted to start the first Harry Potter book, which I stopped reading after about one chapter because it bored me. I continued to scrape by on books with a lower reading level until in the sixth grade.
I decided I wanted to try reading the Harry Potter books again so I could discuss them with my friends. However, by that point my minimum reading level was too high to receive points from reading the first Harry Potter book which was a lower reading level. Not wanting to read a book that I would not receive credit for reading, I started in on the second book, completely lost as to what was going on at first. Once I read a few chapters of the book, I began to understand what was going on, and I became engrossed in the story that was
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I needed to take a break from reading because my tears were dimpling the pages of the book. In the sixth book I feared for Dumbledore’s life as he drank the liquid in which the Horcrux was submerged, and was horrified at what seemed like Snape’s betrayal as he killed Dumbledore. In the final book, I was just as upset about the loss of Hedwig as I was the loss of Dobby, Fred, and Remus. Long before the school year ended, I had finished the seventh Harry Potter book. I had cried and laughed at so many points during my reading of the books that I’m sure people thought me crazier than they already had before. Those books affected me so much that I gained an emotional connection to

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