Into Focus

My first memories are fuzzy and piecemeal to the point that it's hard to say what the first is, or if it's real. There is one early one I know is true, though, since my parents remember it as well. What they told me fills in the gaps I can't quite bridge by myself.

I was about four at the time. My parents regularly brought me along to the library for story time, and they read to my sister and I at night. They shouldn't have been too surprised when I started begging my mom to teach me how to read.

My mom refused at first. She had heard that if you try to teach your kids to read too early it will hurt their ability in the long run. But I kept asking and asking, so she finally caved in.

I remember the big phonics book she used to teach me. We would sit on the couch together and she would walk me through the lessons. I think there might have been flash cards too, but I'm not sure. Little by little, we would do more each day.

Then one day I got impatient. "Mom, I can read." She didn't believe me until she had me read a few things: one of the lessons from the phonics book and a childrens book from the library I hadn't seen before. I tried reading the latter with the pages facing out at first, the way they did it at story time so the kids could see the pictures. She had me flip it around and read it normally so it would be easier. By then she was convinced I really could read.

I'm not sure what I did next, but from then on I could usually be found with a book.