As a third grader, I scarcely found pleasure in reading anything except books accommodating fairies. Otherwise, I couldn’t sit still long enough to get through the first chapter. Through school so far, we hadn’t done a significant amount of independent reading, but fourth grade was a fresh year with brand new expectations. I sauntered into fourth grade without a worry in sight, hoping to continue my weekly reads of The Rainbow Fairies. However, fourth grade wasn’t how I imagined. When it came time to choose a silent reading book, I searched the bookshelves of my new classroom, aiming for the limited edition Trixie the Halloween Fairy. But to my despair, Trixie was nowhere in sight, nor were any of the fairy books I was familiar with. I inspected
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It’s astonishing how a single book can impact our perspectives, and allow us to experience things beyond our universe. The way that our minds can be opened up to endless possibilities. Because of this single book, a little spot in my heart opened up and is dedicated specifically for reading. Without reading, it’s hard to notice some of the little things that make our lives special. In eighth grade, we dedicated a whole unit specifically to the book The Call of the Wild. Every week, we were required to read three to four chapters and then take a short quiz on those chapters. It was almost like a punishment having to read the book. The actual topic of the book wasn’t the issue, considering I’ve read a few books about sled dogs before, but the way the book was put together was absolutely terrible. How could someone write such a horrid book? I wish I could say that the reading paid off in the end, but it’s far from that. The questions on the quizzes were all constructed from the littlest details in the chapters, pressuring me to read in depth and pay attention to every single thing that occurred in the book. I couldn’t keep track of everything that was happening, and didn’t do well on any of the quizzes. The book made me so mad and miserable, I actually had to take breaks from reading it to cool
It’s astonishing how a single book can impact our perspectives, and allow us to experience things beyond our universe. The way that our minds can be opened up to endless possibilities. Because of this single book, a little spot in my heart opened up and is dedicated specifically for reading. Without reading, it’s hard to notice some of the little things that make our lives special. In eighth grade, we dedicated a whole unit specifically to the book The Call of the Wild. Every week, we were required to read three to four chapters and then take a short quiz on those chapters. It was almost like a punishment having to read the book. The actual topic of the book wasn’t the issue, considering I’ve read a few books about sled dogs before, but the way the book was put together was absolutely terrible. How could someone write such a horrid book? I wish I could say that the reading paid off in the end, but it’s far from that. The questions on the quizzes were all constructed from the littlest details in the chapters, pressuring me to read in depth and pay attention to every single thing that occurred in the book. I couldn’t keep track of everything that was happening, and didn’t do well on any of the quizzes. The book made me so mad and miserable, I actually had to take breaks from reading it to cool