As I read the church bulletin, looking at the letters that makes the words and create a sentence, I am extremely thankful that my parents, specifically my mother, instilled within me the value of reading. She would read to us as children, and then as we grew older she made is read out loud to her. And she taught us vocabulary beyond our grade level. Indeed as a 3rd grader I knew 6-8 syllable words, and how to properly use them and in what context.
She would make me read to her out loud as I moved around because I couldn’t sit still. She would never make me sit still as I read to her and she would hold the book for me as I squirmed and read. She would quiz me on vocabulary words that she taught me as well as my school words.
And she would stop and ask me what I liked about the story, and what I didn’t. She would ask me questions to make sure that I understood it. And then we would talk about whatever it is that I had read. She would ask me if I would change anything about it, and what would I change and how would I have the story end?
And I wonder if she had any idea that she was forming a young writer?
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