For the Love of Reading; A Collection of Memories

January 27th, 2019 was Literacy Day.

Teachers love this day. Surprised?  As we prepared for our celebration for literacy, "Love for Reading" on Valentine's Day, we got to talking about reading! 

It sparked plenty of conversations over the past couple weeks, about our love for reading and how we found it realizing that we all found it at different points in our lives, and from different experiences.  We thought we'd take some time to share a few memories with you, and that it sparks a conversation with you and your kiddos about reading at home, perhaps you might even enjoy the odd chuckle while reading our memories, or "awww" moment!

What comes to mind for your reading memories? We'd love to hear them! 

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Reading for me was a part of every single bed time routine. When I was small I remember clearly having dinner, rushing off to get all cleaned up for bed, and then my mom and dad sitting down to read to me before I fell asleep. These memories are as clear to me now as they have ever been, because my parents always made it special. I could pick a lot or a few books, I could ask questions, it really didn't matter. What mattered was the time we spent together, and the fact that reading was always so positive. 

It made going to school, and enjoying that process a little easier. However, I definitely was the kid that liked to read the last chapter or page because I couldn't wait to know what happened. This unfortunately landed me in hot water during book clubs because I would suddenly always have a knack for guessing the ending... Well would you except anything less? Patient reading skills came to follow and suddenly I fell in love with books all over again due to the anticipation of the ending.

Flash forward to my teenage years: my dad sets a new rule in the house. "We read one hour before bed every night except Friday and Saturday". As you may expect some nights I whined, bargained, pleaded, but he wouldn't budge. My dad was usually the guy you could try and bend a rule or two around, but not about reading. Honestly? Looking back on my past I wouldn't change a thing. Secretly all those reading times we had together just made our family closer, strengthened my love of reading once more, and ultimately are some of the best memories/ books read that I still have. Reading became my solace before bed, and still is. I am a terrible sleeper (it's commonly known through our family and my friends), but I know that when the darkness tries to swallow you, when it's 3:30am and all is lost, the one thing I can always reach for to keep me company at night "before bedtime" is a book. 

So thank you to my mom and dad: they are truly what make the gift of reading so important to me. They are what make my memories of the past so special to look back on for lots of reasons. More than anything though, they make every new book read, or old book read to others a reminder of how stories bring us closer together. To paraphrase my feelings from one of our family favourites...

"I'll love you both forever, I'll like you both for always. As long as I'm living, your baby I'll be"
Ms. Tori

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​I don't really remember learning to read, I'm not sure exactly how or when it happened. But I do remember falling in love with books at a young age. Actually, obsession is probably a more accurate description than falling in love. When I was little my parents would read to me every night before bed, I had a bookshelf full of all kinds of different books in my bedroom. I bet you're thinking this all sounds pretty normal so far, but as a kid I would go through phases where I would get my parents to read me the same book night after night for months at a time. After a few weeks my parents would beg me to choose a different book, any other book, but I was adamant that my current obsession was the only book that would do. I remember the books so vividly, I even remember the order of some my obsessions; The Three Little Pigs, Button Soup, Green Eggs and Ham, Snowed in at Pokeweed Public School, and Anne of Green Gables.  

I still remember getting the opportunity to bring in a book to read to my class in grade 1, my current book of choice was Green Eggs and Ham. I was so excited! I knew that book cover to cover, could I read it or did I just have it memorized? I'm still not sure, but I don't think it really matters. Loving a book doesn't mean you need to be able to read it all on your own or that you need to understand every single word in it, it just means you love it! 

Luckily I still have many of the books I loved as a child, my Mom gave me a big box of them when my kids were born. Now and then they let me share one or two of my favorites with them, you know in between reading Dora and Pokemon for the millionth time ;)
​Ms. Alicia

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I was chatting with my mom recently, and asked her how she’d gone about teaching me to read.  She said “Actually I don’t remember teaching you to read.  I just remember reading to you, until you started reading to me.  After that, you just started reading to everyone.” While I was floored that she hadn’t used any strategy other than reading with me, her latter point has been true for as long as I can remember—I love reading to people. 

I still carry a reading memory from Grade Three. The teacher asked if someone would like to read a story to the class, and I decided to not raise my hand, just to break from my habit and give someone else a turn.  I’m still not quite sure why what happened next happened. All I remember is that instead of someone else taking a turn, the class just asked if the reader could be me.  I remember the joy of that moment. My class thought I was good at reading? They liked when I read to them? Or maybe my desire to be the reader was plainly painted across my face from the moment the teacher mentioned it.  Regardless, I carry this reading memory around with me, knowing that within it lay a simple truth—they liked when I read to them, and I liked doing it.  And now I teach at a school, where I can basically read to people whenever we like.  And we do, and it’s great.
​Mr. Ryan

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I owe every inch of my love for reading to the passion of both my parents. To this day, we have continue to read together, discuss together, and debate together. When I felt lost, my mom and dad would somehow always help me to find inspiration and wisdom in literature. Perhaps, one of my strongest memories is listening to my mom reading-aloud to her fifth-grade students when I was a child…I thought I’d share some of that memory:
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Seven-years-old and sitting at the back of my mother’s classroom. School is out for lower elementary, but in my mother’s upper- elementary class, a vivid read-aloud is in session. Like the 25 students sitting in front of her, my mouth hangs open in awe and amazement as she dynamically and boldly interprets the words of Roald Dahl. She’s like a conductor, weaving connections between characters, inspiring predictions, and splendidly spewing vocabulary. You can almost see the thought maps of students as they form and then float above their heads in real time. As she closes the books for homeroom, the student’s eyes fill with disappointment. Unlike her students though, I do not need to be left in anticipation for the night. As my mother tucks me into bed for the evening, I ask her to read where she had left off that afternoon. She pulls out the book from behind her back: “of course” she assures. As she pulls me closer, she whispers, “but this time, let’s read it together”.
​Ms. Zoe

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My mom is an avid reader and was always reading - to us, with us or just for herself.  She read to us constantly, and we visited the library weekly until we went to school. I remember I loved the smell - walking in through the heavy doors, the air stale from housing stacks and stacks of books. New or old, I wanted to read everything that interested me (which was a lot). My mom fostered my love of reading by letting us choose any and every book we wanted, and especially encouraged us to read series, so if we really liked something we could continue the story beyond that one book. She planned book reading challenges and had us record how many books we'd read each summer. We read everywhere - outside at a picnic, inside with tea when it rained, at night before bed, lazy mornings, in the car on road trips, and many other places. I asked her as an adult what her memories are of me as a child and a reader, and she says I made her read me my favourite books hundreds of times before I could read them for myself. Even when I could read there was nothing better than mom reading to us, listening to her animate each word and seeing the story jump off the page and into my imagination. I could climb mountains, win races, swim in oceans, fly on carpets, solve problems and mysteries, or make new friends without ever leaving my house. My imagination grew with each book I read and each book closed only made me want to open another. ​
​Ms. Rhiannon

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As a child, I always had a great love for books and reading. I was always running to Dad, to sit with him and "read" the paper (pretending to read, even before I could). We lived in a log cabin and had a wood-burning stove in the living room. We would all sit and read together, as the crackle of the fire hissed in the background. My dad would sit by the fire with my sisters curled up, and I would rock in the chair with Mom and read. It was virtually like a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting. 

As a result our family's love of reading and being the youngest of 5, I learned to read at a young age. I wanted to do it on my own and keep up with everyone and the conversations. Dad was a huge fan of reading, and somehow magically influenced us all to even go cable-free for a year - a family of teenagers, no TV for a year! What a guy! It really encouraged us to get back into reading, and those Norman Rockwell moments. It's a memory that I'll always treasure. 
Ms. Hilary

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"Little Betty Bear..."

These 3 words will forever hold the key to memories of reading. These words, for me instantly conjure up feelings of love, protection, support and most of all, a genuine joy for reading. I am immediately brought back to my family's living room, in the evening, propped up in my father's lap with the book "Betty Bear's Birthday" open in front of me. It's sunset outside, I'm all ready for bed, and I get this last story before I have to head off to bed for the night. The floor lamp on above us, the sunset stretching over the lake out the window, the dog snoozing by my dad's feet, and the lazy-boy chair creaking every time we turn the pages of the taped-up, barely-held-together binding. I keep laughing in between correcting my father as he jokingly mixes up the story line, waiting for my all-time classic line, "that's not the right words, Dad!" I can recite every word of this story still, and recall the beautiful pictures of Betty Bear, her mother and her father, the bowl of oatmeal she had for breakfast, and the best page of all, the page where she decides to take a walk through the forest. The page illustrates most beautiful deep forest with a path weaving it's way through the trees. Every time I'd make my dad pause here just a bit longer, imagining I could step right into the pages and join Betty Bear for a skip through the trees. Betty Bear meets a load of her woodland friends along her journey, whom she thinks forget it's her birthday, but later surprise her with treats of honey, nuts, and seeds and a picnic tea among the forest floor. Seriously, this story, is magic. Well, at least I thought (still think) it was. All 10 pages of it - pure magic. I'm told it is not in print anymore, but no need to worry, as it will forever be printed in my memory. And fortunately, my loving parents saved and gifted me it so I can relive it's magic again and again with my daughter. 

I know that these 3 words are what set the foundation for me as a reader, long before I could even read myself. For the years later, I struggled to find a connection with a book like the one I had with Betty Bear, but because of that foundation, I knew the magic existed, I just had to keep looking for it.  Years of pretending to read in silent reading time in class but not having a clue what the words were in front of me, reading and re-reading the confusing paragraphs in my school textbooks, and evenings of my mother reading To Kill a Mocking Jay aloud to me so I could understand what the heck my Grade 10 English teacher was talking about did not ultimately deter me from reading. I struggled, but I did not give up hope. The foundation my father set early on in my life kept my joy for reading afloat, and offered me an opportunity to see and experience those magical words first hand, so I knew eventually I would find that joy again. Which I did.
​Ms. Adele

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My memories of reading as a young child really begin with my younger brother. Jarrett had the little critter series of books by Mercer Mayer and I would just read them to him again and again and again. We loved searching for the grasshopper, spider and mouse in all of the pages, and we would laugh at all the mischief little critter would get into. As I got a bit older, I remember reading The Chrysalids in grade 6 and just loving the idea of a dystopian future, and to this day I still enjoy this genre of books. As a teenager I got hooked on the Harry Potter series, and I remember in university going to midnight releases for the newest book. I also had to re-read each of them before the movies would come out, of course, as any true Harry Potter fan would do! It is truly magical watching the excitement grow in in my children's eyes as I get to read the beautifully illustrated versions of Harry Potter to my children now and pass along my passion for reading a big series to them. 

As an adult, one of my fondest memories is my father gifting me the book ‘Water for Elephants’ and telling me how much he loved the book. I don’t even know how many times I’ve read this book, now, as it has now become one of my most cherished books and the first I would and will ever recommend to anyone who’s looking for a good read. This past summer, I loved chatting with him and my aunts about all the books they are reading, That book, and these memories, are a piece of him, and my family, that will forever stay with me and connect me no matter the distance of land between us. And what boy did I ever realize that I still have a lot of reading to do to catch up to them! I best get crackin!
Ms. Meghan