|Posted by shirleyanderson on April 25, 2008 at 4:01 PM|
A continuation of yesterday's post....
I did not at the time see the Dick and Jane primer as an amusement, on the contrary I took it very seriously and sometimes got so caught up in sounding out those wonderful words that I would start reading aloud without realizing it. The teacher, Mrs. Preston, would interrupt me in a loud voice for everyone to hear, and tell me to read to myself. That was embarrassing and I usually lost my place on the page. Which line was I on, 'Look look look', or 'Run, Spot, Run'. Darn it!
After mastering Dick and Jane, I had an inkling that there was even more. Not books, I knew there were lots of those, but I had a feeling there was more in store for me where stories were concerned. After all, I had figured out the complicated storyline and characters, I knew that the protagonists had a liking of Spot in common, never spoke more than three words at a time and never changed their clothes. I was getting the hang of this reading stuff, was getting pretty involved in educating myself on character development, but what if I could make up a story too. One that other people would read like I read my Golden Books. The idea was very appealing to me. I felt quite literary at the age of almost seven.
Throughout that summer between grade one and grade two, I continued to struggle to gain mastery over reading. There seemed to be a short supply of the words, oh, look, see, run, and the like in the world outside Mrs. Preston's classroom. I was forever asking anyone taller than me to tell me what a word 'said'. The only thing I succeeded in doing was making people wish I?d go away, which I would do when told to, but the whole reading-writing-book thing would not go away for me.
I had to figure out what to do about it.
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