A seven year old who doesn't know how to read is a read flag for teachers. As my friends were moving on to chapter books, I was sent to a smaller room with three or four other students and a new teacher who made us write letters on white boards.
By the end of second grade, I was at an eighth grade reading level. Maybe the remedial lessons worked. Maybe I was dyslexic like my grandfather and I grew out of it by the end of the year. We found out later that I needed glasses, so maybe back then I just couldn't see the words. Maybe I just needed a book that I was interested enough in to try.
My mom bought me my first Harry Potter book. It was a true "aha" moment for me. By the time we were on chapter two, I was hooked. My mom read to me every day, but it wasn't enough. I don't remember quite how it happened, but I do remember being sick one weekend and turning in sixteen reading hours on Monday (The class that had read or had been read to the most won a pizza party. We won that year). My grandma had started reading me A Series of Unfortunate Events, and we hadn't looked back.
That year, we read every Cornelius Fudge book that was out. We would go to Barnes and Noble, find the perfect book together, and then write both of our names in the cover. We were binge readers, unable to put down any book, even the ones that we didn't really like. By the end of the year, I was reading on my own, but I didn't stop reading with my grandma.
I remember when Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince came out I was driving to Mackinac Island with my parents. I made them stop so I could buy it, and they said I was ruining the vacation by reading the whole time. By this time, I was 11. I got in trouble for reading during class almost every week. I chose finishing books over hanging out with friends. When my mom grounded me, she took away reading privileges. I practically refused to leave the house ever. When I finished a book I really liked, I would cry because it wasn't real (yeah I was weird).
We got home from the vacation and my grandma was upset that I had read so far ahead of her. I had her start over, reading the whole thing from me to page one. When we got to the part where Dumbledore died, she started crying so hard she couldn't continue. I lifted the book from her hands and finished it, one of the only times that I had read to her.
Looking back, it was a symbolic moment. That was the last book that my grandma and I read together, as sad as that is to say. I moved shortly after that, and switched to public school where I made friends and had a social life. Still, we are both binge readers. I know that when I start a book, I'm going to finish it either that day or the next, so I never start one until finals are over or I have a day off work. The summer after my freshman year of college, I read all five A Song of Ice and Fire Books in two weeks. Once a year I reread all of the Harry Potter books and my family just accepts that they aren't going to see me for a few days. My grandma, mom and I are always sharing books with each other.
I often think how lucky I am that I came from a family of passionate readers. Where would I be if my mom hadn't gotten me into reading? If my grandma hadn't taught me to love binge reading? My best section on the ACT was English, the only section I didn't study for. My ACT score got me into a good college where I majored in Chemistry, where I studied mainly by reading because yes, I do binge read textbooks sometimes. Now, I don't have a lot of time for books, but my library lets me check out audio books over their app. So if you see me walking to class with headphones in my ear, chances are I'm listening to a book.
