This summer I’ve made it my goal to read:
The Stranger by Albert Camus
Santantango by Laszlo Krasznahorkai
and these four short stories from F. Scott Fitzgerald: This Side of Paradise, Flappers and Philosophers, The Beautiful and the Damned, and Tales of the Jazz Age.
If you know anything about me, which I am going to say you don’t, then you will know my relationship with reading has been a downhill struggle for most of my life. Ouch, sounds a bit too dramatic there, doesn’t it? But it’s true! When I was in kindergarden I had to stay after school to read out loud to my teacher while everyone packed up and left with their parents. I would get so distracted with the pictures that she (my wonderful teacher) covered them up with a note card.
But little me had some skills, I wasn’t able to read as well as the others but I refused to take our afternoon nap and instead found extra time to do math. I started multiplication before I started the first grade. I knew everything under 10. Smug, smug, smug. If you tell college student me to not take an afternoon nap and to do math I would flip you off and laugh.
In the first grade I was offered a chance to skip second grade. I knew the same amount of math as the third graders, maybe even better because where they were still confused with how multiplication works and I was already familiar with it. I was interested in their history class, I was vocal. But when the reading assessment came around, I was under satisfactory so they kept me in the grade I was originally. Because of that I became so ashamed of my reading that I just stopped it all together. I thought something was wrong with me! In fifth grade when a teacher tried to make me read out loud I told them I didn’t want to and challenged them until they skipped me. I really hated reading.
Things have changed between fifth grade me and current, college student me, haha. I’ve grown. Taller a bit. But I’ve also started to like books...as long as I’m not being forced to read them for a class, amiright?