Affective Dimensions of Writing

Somewhere between the time I was 4-years old and now I have lost my love for reading. It's sad, I know, but I'm convinced one day it will return. I remember as a 4-year-old my family would wake up every morning at 6:00 and read scriptures together. They would leave me sound asleep in bed and be as quiet as they could so as not to wake me up. But I wanted to read with them! I would try my hardest to wake up when my 5 older siblings woke up. Even if they told me to go back to sleep I would follow them into the living room for scripture study. I remember sitting on my oldest sister's lap and being allowed to read one verse. After a while I began to recognize some of the very small words. My sister would read until we got to one, then she would point at it and let me read it. I loved scripture study and, at the time, could never understand why my older siblings complained.

Throughout elementary school I continued to enjoy reading. I was always in the high reading levels and I loved to read the books we were given. I remember taking a reading test in 5th grade and testing at a high school reading level. Back then, I knew I was a good reader. Shortly after that however, began my decline.

Whereas in elementary I racked up as many accelerated reader points as I possibly could, in jr. high school, I read just enough Jack Weyland or Louis L'amour books to get me by. The more my teachers required me to read, the more I resisted it. I also found that it was difficult for me to switch from one kind of text to another. I became so accustomed to reading informational texts and really studying them, that it was work for me to pick up a novel. I constantly went back to reread things I didn't understand. I read each and every word instead of just letting it flow. I think this is the reason I stopped liking to read. By the end of my senior year I only read what I absolutely had to. I read so much in school that for any free time I had, reading was the last thing I wanted to do.

At the end of my senior year of high school my English teacher had just a small unit after the AP test where we had to read so many pages from a class book set. The problem was, we couldn't take them home. It was the hardest assignment she had given me all year. I complained and whined and then complained some more. I think she thought it was pretty humorous. I was really concerned that this assignment would be the one to ruin my 4.0 GPA. I was reading all the time those last few weeks. I read in all my classes, during lunch, and anywhere else I could. I often wondered during that time how it was that in elementary I was one of the fastest readers in my class, and now I was so incredibly slow! (I barely finished in time by the way.)

This is pretty much the attitude that has stayed with me throughout college. The worst homework assignment a teacher can give me is a reading, especially if it's long and redundant (I want to rip my hair out). I don't read novels, not even in the summer. I just have better things to do with my life and with my time.

As I mentioned earlier however, I do have hope that my love for reading will someday return. My reasoning: once in a great while, when I have nothing to do (like on a 14 hour car ride to Yuma, AZ sitting in the middle of the backseat of a Toyota Camry) I actually can enjoy reading a book. It takes me the first 50 pages to remember exactly how to read a novel, but once it comes back I can enjoy reading. I might be in my 60's by the time it does, but I think my love for reading will return.

I still don't mind reading things as long as it's my choice to read them. I like looking up things on the internet if it's something I'm interested in. I like reading the newspaper while I eat and I like checking facebook once in a while. But still the only text I read voluntarily on a regular basis is the one I started with; my scriptures. I guess that's not such a bad thing!

I don't know that my interest or lack thereof in reading had much to do with the influences around me. Of course my parents and teachers encouraged me to read, and I'm sure my friends complained right along with me about how miserable it sometimes was. But in reflecting on my desire to read through time I think I've come to a conclusion. I'm just hard headed. Tell me to do it and I won't, but let me want to, and I will love every minute of it. (I'm afraid to have kids....)

Recognizing this about myself may help when I become a teacher. I think it's important to recognize that some kids love to read and that they will excel with every reading assignment you give them, but there are others who will resist. For some kids, school takes the fun out of reading, if it was ever fun to begin with. Some students have trouble reading and this is only magnified when they can't keep up with their peers or they have trouble comprehending what they read. I think it's important to give students meaningful texts, and then to assist in their comprehension so they won't be as likely to resist the text. I think comprehension instruction can really help students who struggle to feel better about themselves in their reading abilities. I know that as I have engaged in comprehension instruction it has helped me in my understanding.