There is something magical about beginning a new book.  Perhaps that’s why I’m such an addict.  I never fail to get a thrill when I pick up something I haven’t read.  And to read an old favorite is like coming home and participating in familiar rituals.

I appreciate most styles of writing, though some are more challenging to absorb than others.  Classic, contemporary, dramatic, comedic, I love it all.  My father used to be concerned with my choices when I was growing up, thinking I read too much “fluff” as he called it.  Oh my word, I think he said that to me about once a week.  “What are you reading?  Aww..that’s just fluff, honey.  Why?”  I never minded, realizing he was focusing on my appetite for “The Babysitter’s Club” series and failing to notice the same eager appetite “The Chronicle of Narnia” and “Little Women”.  As a result, I’ve read a great many books in my time, and it’s likely the reason behind my love of writing.  I’ve always found writing so therapeutic and it comes quite easily to me.  Quite a handy skill to have when you major in Sociology and Social Welfare and most of your college career is spent writing papers.

I had an amazing English teacher in high school, Mr. Wright.  He changed the way I read books and how I processed the stories.  He was so inspiring, and made each book selection come alive in a way that I know I wouldn’t have been able to experience if it weren’t for his teaching.  He also wore this really rad fanny pack.  He was the teacher you wanted for Humanities, too, because he was so insanely intelligent, but also slightly whacktacular.  My favorite combination!  I wish I could have taken his classes every year.  So here’s to you, Mr. Wright, and to all the other exceptional English teachers out there who have inspired students to deepen their love for reading, or to teach them to love reading for the first time.  You have unlocked worlds of wonder for so many.

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