Elledge 1

Ayla Elledge
Professor Campbell
UWRT 1101-059
02 December 2014
Literary Death and Rebirth
Ever since I can remember, I have always loved reading. I would read
anything I could get my hands on. When I was a kid, my mom would go to
thrift store and yard sales and come home with bundles of new books for me to
read. It didnt matter if the book I was currently reading wasnt that great, I
would read it to completion anyway. Reading was a source of comfort and
escape for me and I cherished it. I thought this would never change. I had an
infallible love for reading, or so I thought.
When I was 14, this theory was tested and disproved. I will never forget
the first time I ever hated reading. I was a freshman in high school and I was in
Mrs. Jungs advanced placement English class. First of all, advanced highschool English was unlike any English class I had previously taken. Our
literary units went by fast and didnt leave much time for in-depth
interpretation. This class was made worse by the fact that I passionately hated
Mrs. Jung. She was a despicable woman. She was strict, frumpy, rude and
condescending. Naturally, she and I never saw eye to eye. It was as if there was
a hit put on me the very instant we met. I despised her but my hatred for what
we read that semester was even greater.

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I walked into class and sat down with my books, prepared sit through
another boring lecture on grammar. Once the tardy bell rang, Mrs. Jung
announced that we should take out our books. Turn to page 308, were going
to start reading and deciphering an epic today, she said. Once we all got to the
page, she asked us to read the next 10 pages so that we could discuss it. We
were going to be reading a mass amount of excerpts from The Iliad. After I
finished those 10 pages, I came to the conclusion that I had never in my life
disliked reading something more. It was dull, dry, and I hated it; and I hated
her for being the one to make me suffer through this unit. During that first
lesson, I dont think I learned one single thing about The Iliad. We continued
our segment on Homer over the next month and it was like pulling teeth. I
would go to class, try to take in what we were supposedly learning about The
Iliad, fail miserably, and then head to my next class. I ended up failing the
whole unit on epics and decided to continue to hate Mrs. Jung for the rest of
the semester.
For a long time afterwards, I struggled with reading anything I didnt like.
When something seemed boring or started off too slow, I was reminded of how
much I hated reading that book and being forced to read it. How it did nothing
for me. I would imagine Mrs. Jungs sneering face at me failing the segment. I
would hear her voice droning on about the significance of a passage and my
mind would shut off. Now I feel silly because it was novice to think that I would
enjoy everything I read in my lifetime. I was unprepared for the realization that
I would eventually read something that I didnt like. I let my hiccup with

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reading cost me valuable knowledge over the course of the next few years. My
self-made disability hurt me because anytime a book didnt immediately grab
my attention, I would stop reading it. I wouldnt even give this new book a
chance because I had taught myself that I couldnt understand or finish a book
I didnt like in the beginning. I had taught myself to shut down and give up on
a certain facet of reading. I was stuck in a stubborn rut of a form of illiteracy.
Upon starting college, I realized how important it was to break myself of
this habit. If I didnt learn to read and comprehend things that bored me
senseless, I was going to be at a major disadvantage. Everyone around me was
reading academic works unable to captivate them, but they were making the
best of the situation. They knew they couldnt shut down just because some
text wasnt to their liking. Not everything Id read would be as entertaining as
The Alchemist, To Kill a Mockingbird, or the Harry Potter series (Some of my
long-time favorites). Professors expected more of them and more of me. I would
have to force myself to read things outside of my comfort zone and learn a way
to absorb them as well. I started slowly with articles that were in a dialect I
didnt understand. What a better way to learn how to power through horrible
reading than to start with wordy literature. My mom lent me her Nortons
anthology of American literature and I began my expansion there. It wasnt a
short process either. There were many times I threw that anthology across the
room and said Screw this. Luckily, that book was tough and could put up
with my abuse as I grew intellectually.

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To this day, I still struggle with reading things I dont enjoy. I dont think
I will ever grow out of the irritation I feel when reading something that doesnt
capture me, but I have learned the discipline to get done what needs to be
done. Instead of hating every moment I read such a text, I try to remind myself
that someone out there enjoys what Im reading. There may even be someone
who considers this current boring book to be their favorite work of literary art. I
remember that I must put myself in their shoes and try to see something
valuable and interesting beneath all the wordy clutter. Ascribing to that
mindset is what gets me through the slower, more daunting texts. It has taught
me a lesson that can only be learned through experience: Anything worth
obtaining will be difficult at some point and will contain a struggle that tests
our ability to continue forward. For me, it was reading excerpts I hated when
Id been happy with most everything Id previously read. For someone else it
may be completely different. Another person may face the struggle of learning
to read at all or to find any book that captivates their soul. Just as I overcame
my difficulties with reading, I hope that others with a similar (or contrary)
struggle find a way to cope with and rise above their inabilities. Almost nothing
feels better than obtaining a skill you thought was unachievable; nothing
except maybe reading a book that captures you.