“Chelsey has such
potential and she’s such a smart girl, but she has got to start paying
attention and stop trying to read her books under her desk during class.” I was
exposed to be literature and music at a very young age and they are both
hobbies that I enjoy today as an (almost) adult. There is not a single period
of time in my life that I remember where I was not reading a book, aside from
that one time when I was still wearing a pull-up and my brother told me that
when people die they die with their eyes open, and then he pretended to be
dead. I have spent my whole life reading, sometimes to the dismay of the adults
surrounding me; and I have spent many Sunday mornings standing in front of a
church singing by myself or as part of a worship team.
I
can remember being a very young child laying down in the backseat of the car
while listening to early 90’s country songs. I would listen to the whole song
and then when it was over I would tell me mom what I thought the singer was
trying to say. I was the same way with books, I would read an entire book and
then search through the house for my mom and make her stand there and listen to
me while I told her everything about the book that I could remember. I was so
enamored with the stories that came from books and from songs, and I loved
trying to decipher them. I can tell you now, there are plenty of country songs
that I definitely did not understand until I was much older, and then I would laugh
at imaging how my mom must have felt when I was seven and eight years old
trying to explain all of these songs that dealt with situations that I wouldn’t
understand for a good twelve years.
Books
were my haven of my childhood. I could entertain myself for hours on end,
devouring a whole series of books in a matter of days. I was the only kid that
my mom really enjoyed taking grocery shopping, because she would take me into
the book section of Wal-Mart, wait until I sat down on the ground with a good book,
and then she would leave me on my own and go on with her shopping. I was the
only kid that I know of that was ever grounded from reading; television and
video games never mattered to me and I could have cared less if I wasn’t
allowed to watch them but I just hated when my books were taken from me. My mom
says it was the only thing that I ever cared enough about to really have any
effect on me. I can remember when the Left Behind series came out and my mom
bought the first couple of books from the kid’s series for me and the first
book of the adult series for herself. Later that day when we were back home I
asked my mom if I could read her book and she said no, that it was too grown up
for me, and then she hid it from me. Only a few days passed before she walked
in on me laying on the ground half under her bed, reading the “hidden” book.
Unfortunately,
not all of my experiences with books have been wonderful. I remember the day
that I laid on the couch sick, reading Old Yeller. I hated that book. It was
the first time that I had read a book and not enjoyed it, but it wouldn’t be my
last. Very shortly after that my older brother began reading the Let The Circle Be Unbroken series for
school and I decided that I wanted to read them as well. I read Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry and when I
finished the last page I stood up, walked silently to the kitchen, and threw my
brother’s library book into the trash can. I own that book now; it’s a lesson
that I want to pass on to my students and to my own children, but I have never
again even cracked open the cover of it.
I
have so many other memories associated with music and literature, memories that
would take up so much more than two or three pages for a school assignment,
memories that would take much longer than a week to compile. There is not a
single period of time in my life that I remember that isn’t filled with
memories of book and of music; they are my life.