To the woman who taught me to love reading
It might seem unbelievable--I have a blog centered around books--but I haven't always loved reading. In fact, I used to read due to a feeling of obligation or competition. My sister would flaunt the amount of books that she read and I would respond by staying awake for hours past my bedtime and reading. Stories ran into and out of my brain almost as quickly as I could read them. It wasn't until my freshman year of high school that I truly developed a love of reading.
My first day of high school was filled with scenes of me getting lost and listening to hours of syllabus talks. However, one class was different. My English class began with discussion about Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. My class was required to read the novel prior to the first day of school and I had finished the book, again out of obligation. Ms. Perdue was my teacher's name and upon learning that I would be in her class I had panicked. I had heard horror stories about this teacher from my peers and was not looking forward to the next semester. She was said to be the strictest and least reasonable English teacher in the school. I would later learn why she got this reputation.
I went into the classroom on the first day with my book in hand. We took a short quiz and then proceeded to talk about the text in great detail. The way Ms. Perdue brought the text to life was something I had never before experienced. I thought the book was mostly about yams, but she spoke of the characters as real people with problems much more important than yams. Until this course, English class had been all about spelling tests and vocabulary memorization. Now English class was a place to learn about people through fiction.
Throughout the semester I would have one-on-one conversations with Ms. Perdue about the material, but I would also tell her about other books that I was reading or had already read. She never turned me away when I wanted to pose a new interpretation or understand the meaning of a certain section of text. She continually fostered in me a curiosity that I hold to this day. Why does an author write in a certain way? What does a book mean to the people of its generation?
I grew closer to Ms. Perdue through another semester in her class. I also developed a habit of eating lunch in her room. I know her as a person, but more importantly I know her as a fellow reader. Each work that we read stays with me as much more than an assignment. She gave me the greatest gift that I could ask for. I am an English major because of the time I spent with Ms. Perdue. I can only hope that I can one day return the favor.
My first day of high school was filled with scenes of me getting lost and listening to hours of syllabus talks. However, one class was different. My English class began with discussion about Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. My class was required to read the novel prior to the first day of school and I had finished the book, again out of obligation. Ms. Perdue was my teacher's name and upon learning that I would be in her class I had panicked. I had heard horror stories about this teacher from my peers and was not looking forward to the next semester. She was said to be the strictest and least reasonable English teacher in the school. I would later learn why she got this reputation.
I went into the classroom on the first day with my book in hand. We took a short quiz and then proceeded to talk about the text in great detail. The way Ms. Perdue brought the text to life was something I had never before experienced. I thought the book was mostly about yams, but she spoke of the characters as real people with problems much more important than yams. Until this course, English class had been all about spelling tests and vocabulary memorization. Now English class was a place to learn about people through fiction.
Throughout the semester I would have one-on-one conversations with Ms. Perdue about the material, but I would also tell her about other books that I was reading or had already read. She never turned me away when I wanted to pose a new interpretation or understand the meaning of a certain section of text. She continually fostered in me a curiosity that I hold to this day. Why does an author write in a certain way? What does a book mean to the people of its generation?
I grew closer to Ms. Perdue through another semester in her class. I also developed a habit of eating lunch in her room. I know her as a person, but more importantly I know her as a fellow reader. Each work that we read stays with me as much more than an assignment. She gave me the greatest gift that I could ask for. I am an English major because of the time I spent with Ms. Perdue. I can only hope that I can one day return the favor.
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