Affective Dimensions of Reading

I think of myself as a good reader. As Long as I can remember I have been glued to books as though the glue from the binding somehow stuck to my hand. I carry books with me everywhere I go. I even take them with me when I go backpacking. I scrutinize every ounce that goes into my backpack, course you would to if you were going on marathon trips through the wind rivers 34 miles in 3 days vertical gain of over half a mile. Every muscle fiber in your shoulders and legs on fire, you don’t want extra weight in your pack. Yet somehow I end up with Kon-Tiki by Thor Heyerdahl in my pack. I lay in my bag after a long day, reading about making a ship out of logs and reeds to sail to the Tongan islands it is worth the suffering that it caused me.

My father is to blame for my obsession with books. My dad worked a lot when I was young. I almost never saw him but when I did see him he had a book in lunch box. When I would ask about them he would tell me fantastical stories about what was in them. My interest was peaked. When I got into middle school I was reading everything that my dad would give me. He usually would read the books first to make sure that my young mind was only getting good wholesome reading. He would hand me a book like Sahara by Clive Cussler, which is now a major motion picture, and say something like there are only a couple parts where you need to skip over. You will know which parts they are. I think I might have skipped over parts once or twice but then you don’t get the whole story so guiltily I would read those parts that I knew I wasn’t supposed to read. When I was in 7th grade I made a goal to read all of Louis Lamours books, still haven’t reached that goal but I’m well on my way. Westerns and Science fiction are my passions. But lately I’ve been reading more Mysteries and I’m really enjoying them. I have to force myself to branch out to different authors and genres. I’ll get a mystery by Tony Hillerman and something else from an author that I have never heard of before. That way if the other author sucks I still have something that I like.

There are so many times that I have enjoyed reading... most of my life I think. When I read The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien as a young boy I remember really enjoying that read. I felt like I was with Bilbo when he wandered the inky paths of Mirkwood fighting spiders and other dark creatures. Escaping reality is one of the things that I like the best about books. I can have grand adventures without putting myself in danger. One of the times that I remember really really enjoying reading is when I read the book When the Legends Die by Hal Borland. I was in Eighth grade in my history class my teacher saw me reading it and came up to me to talk about it. He told me that he had read that book in one of his classes at the University. I thought wow I’m reading a college book. It re enforced the idea that I was a good reader.

After reflecting on my feeling about reading I have to think about how I can help my students have the same feelings about reading that I have. I think that building up our students confidence in reading will be a great way to interest students in reading. Having them read books or excerpts from books that are interesting and tell a story is important. I can’t ever remember really enjoying reading text books, especially when they were only kind of related to topics we were discussing. I wish that I could have gotten credit for reading books outside of class. I think that giving a little extra credit for books that are related to what we are teaching is appropriate. It gives credence to the validity of reading done outside of class. Why not get credit for showing interest in the subject that I teach. I think that this would have given me motivation to read books that had a scholarly feel to them.