I learned to read when I was four. Thanks to my mother, who spent hours and hours teaching me. I spent most of my childhood, sitting in my room with my golden books, Speak and Spell, and studying for spelling bees. I won almost every single one that I entered. They were always proud moments, and my mom and I worked hard so I would be successful. I still remember the year that I was eliminated because I spelled the word “course” wrong. I spelled it “coarse,” which is a word, but not the spelling they were looking for. Because I did not ask them to use it in a sentence, I was eliminated. And I was angry the entire day. To be honest, I’m still kind of angry. Ha.
From a very young age, I have had a very important relationship with books. I worry about the kids growing up today. I don’t think a lot of parents are as devoted to their kids learning and growing process as mine were. I take great pleasure in seeing parents raise their kids with a love of reading and respect for books. Many of these parents are friends of mine. I love seeing pictures of their kids with books, even if I don’t really like kids. Because someday they won’t be kids anymore and will be running the world. And words are so important.
When I was a kid, I had my own personal library. Bookshelves full of books. Ramona and Beezus, The Baby-Sitter’s Club, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, James and the Giant Peach, The Secret Garden, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Nancy Drew, etc. Boxes of books which are still stuffed in my parents’ attic in Michigan.
Then when I was a teen it was R.L Stine, Richie Tankersley Cusick, Christopher Pike, Lois Lowry, Caroline B. Cooney, Judy Blume, etc. See picture below. There are many more where that came from. That’s only the beginning.