School for my kids starts on Wednesday. So I figured to post this story about my love of reading and books.
The Book Worm
I've always loved reading books as far back as I can remember. Since I had no siblings and wasn't interested in sports or other activities. I'd hang out at the library, or in my room buried in books. If I discovered a new topic or interest, I'd go to the library and look up everything about it. I was there so often that the librarians knew me by name.
"No Tracy, you can only check out two books per subject", they patiently scolded as I piled books upon books at checkout.
Books were often my refuge. At family gatherings I'd be lost in all the chatter and noise that I'd just find a quiet corner and read. After coming home from a bad day at school, I'd drown my thoughts admist the horrors of Stephen King, or in the suspense of Dean Koontz.
I remember borrowing my mom's copy of Stephen King's "Pet Sematary". I was a quarter way through it. "Has the cat died yet?" she asks."Nooooo" I replied, peeved at the revelation. I read further and discovered what she was talking about and told her I've come to that part of the book. "Has it come back yet?" she asks. "Noooooo" I drawled, more annoyed that another part of the horror has been revealed. I later told her I've now read that part. "Has.." she started to tease me. "UH UH UH!" I exclaimed! "NO MORE!"
Because I was mainstreamed in public school before I switched to the Deaf Institute, I was "ahead" in English class. I was bored and finished the assignments quickly. The school administrators decided I needed a challenge and enrolled me in English classes in the adjoining "hearing" High School. I took these English classes through the five years I was at the Deaf Institute and graduated a year early. It was in these classes that my love of literature grew. We studied several Shakespeare plays, George Orwell's "1984", which was probably in the same year too. Then there was William Golding's "Lord of the Flies" and Stephen Leacock's "Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town". I was would be absorbed into the pages of these stories and barely anything budged me from the dancing words.
Now if you'll excuse me I've got a coffee and a story waiting.
The Book Worm
I've always loved reading books as far back as I can remember. Since I had no siblings and wasn't interested in sports or other activities. I'd hang out at the library, or in my room buried in books. If I discovered a new topic or interest, I'd go to the library and look up everything about it. I was there so often that the librarians knew me by name.
"No Tracy, you can only check out two books per subject", they patiently scolded as I piled books upon books at checkout.
Books were often my refuge. At family gatherings I'd be lost in all the chatter and noise that I'd just find a quiet corner and read. After coming home from a bad day at school, I'd drown my thoughts admist the horrors of Stephen King, or in the suspense of Dean Koontz.
I remember borrowing my mom's copy of Stephen King's "Pet Sematary". I was a quarter way through it. "Has the cat died yet?" she asks."Nooooo" I replied, peeved at the revelation. I read further and discovered what she was talking about and told her I've come to that part of the book. "Has it come back yet?" she asks. "Noooooo" I drawled, more annoyed that another part of the horror has been revealed. I later told her I've now read that part. "Has.." she started to tease me. "UH UH UH!" I exclaimed! "NO MORE!"
Because I was mainstreamed in public school before I switched to the Deaf Institute, I was "ahead" in English class. I was bored and finished the assignments quickly. The school administrators decided I needed a challenge and enrolled me in English classes in the adjoining "hearing" High School. I took these English classes through the five years I was at the Deaf Institute and graduated a year early. It was in these classes that my love of literature grew. We studied several Shakespeare plays, George Orwell's "1984", which was probably in the same year too. Then there was William Golding's "Lord of the Flies" and Stephen Leacock's "Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town". I was would be absorbed into the pages of these stories and barely anything budged me from the dancing words.
Now if you'll excuse me I've got a coffee and a story waiting.
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