Essay About Learning To Read

My adventure in learning to read began with my parents. When I was younger getting ready for bed was a treat, I would brush my deciduous teeth, put on my Spongebob pajama pants, and give my parents enough kisses to persuade them to read me a bedtime story. But the best part came when I was able to climb into my cushioned cotton covers and imagine handsome princes slaying dragons, evil witches cackling with delight, or what it would be like to hear an itsy bitsy spider climb up a water spout. It wasn't the pictures I was interested in, it was the words. I was amazed at how letters formed words, words formed sentences, and sentences created fantasy. I would follow along connecting the sound of my parents voice to the words I saw, stopping every chance I could to ask what some of the words meant. This is how learning to read transfigured into learning to love reading. Once I knew I loved reading I wanted to create my own stories. This is how I started learning to write;
I can’t say I fully learned how to read and write when I was younger, it is a process of learning that never ends. There will always be a book that challenges you, a word you don't understand, or a method of writing you haven't tried. The more you read the smaller the world seems, and the larger your head becomes. I came to realise my love and passion for literature. Still to this day I rarely leave the house without my copy of “To Build a Fire” by Jack London. Many of my friends, and the people I grew up with hated reading. I distinctly remember receiving perturbed looks from fellow classmates after stating that I prefered reading “Where the Red Fern Grows” in class then watching the film afterwards. I want for every person I meet, and know to have that same yearning for literature that I have, and I believe that everyone can if they only take the time to practice learning to read and