As long as I can remember, I’ve loved to read. I’ve always had a positive attitude towards reading and get excited thinking about my favorites. As a child, all I did was read. Fast forward a few years, I’ve got the same attitude, but not the same practices. Since I started college, it has been increasingly difficult to find the time to read for fun. Now, I’m spending four hours a week reading without any accompanying tests or assignments, except to share my feelings. It’s funny how easy it is to make time for something in your life when you make it a priority. I’ve proven two things to myself this semester: I do still love reading, and I do still have the time. I plan to continue to fill this new found time with my own books when the semester comes to a close.
It’s funny, I never realized how big of a fan of children’s literature I am until I enrolled in this class. I can remember at certain points in my life picking out books for my reading level and age interest, but still grabbing picture books and junior novels that I remember enjoying, or reading a young adult book for the sixth time. I’ve been reading mostly children’s chapter books in this class, and loving it. In my mind, adult fiction doesn’t really appeal to me. I don’t know what draws me to like children’s books so much. Maybe it’s those fond feeling that I had reading as a kid come back. Maybe it’s the joy of escaping into a world that in no way shape or form resembles my current life. I’ve felt this way for a long time, but never really wanted to admit it because it seemed silly to me. All I know is that I’m glad to be headed to a career where my love for children’s books is highly encouraged.