Lindsay Flanagan's Blog - Posts Tagged "get-caught-reading"
National Get Caught Reading Month!
May is National Get Caught Reading Month! Time to celebrate all the times you were reading when you were supposed to be doing something else…
The first time I remember getting caught reading was when I was in 5th grade. We’d just gone to the library, and I’d picked up Kristy’s Big Day, book #6 in Ann M. Martin’s Babysitters Club series (I was hooked on them from second to seventh grade).
Unfortunately, right after library was math, but when a shiny new read sat on the corner of my desk, the cover depicting Kristy in a beautiful yellow bridesmaid dress, it was a wrench not to crack open the cover and read at least the first page.
Let me give you a bit of backstory. I was the kid who, at least seventy percent of the time, would rather read than play. (And when I played, I liked Barbies so I could create my own stories with them.) Readathons and book fairs were two of the most exciting days at school, and I even planned after-school readathons with my best friend. You bet I had those purple Book-It pins completely filled with stars. Pizza Hut pizza tastes better when it’s earned by reading.
I was also an introvert and afraid of ever doing anything wrong at home, school, or church (at least, when I was ten). I was an excellent student (except when seated beside a friend, I talked too much). I even liked math, but Kristy’s Big Day was all about a wedding. And her dress! I simply had to read about how the tomboy of the BSC felt being in a pretty dress!
So, while the teacher’s back was turned to the blackboard (I’m that old), I opened the book, the fluorescent lighting glinting off the glossy cover, and peeked at the first page.
And I couldn’t stop reading. Before I realized it, the book was in both hands, held up to my face á la Anne Shirley, and I was getting ready to march down the aisle with Kristy.
This is where the story gets sad (trigger warnings: mean teachers, bullying).
The book was yanked out of my hands and thrown across the room, landing in a sad purple-and-yellow heap in the trash can. My hands shook, my face burned, and tears rolled down my cheeks. My teacher, while always strict but hadn’t been mean up until that point, didn’t say a word. He glared at me, then returned to teaching while the rest of the kids stared at me.
I shouldn’t have been reading in class. I should have been paying attention. The teacher may have said my name several times (although I don’t remember anything except the book-yanking) to remind me that it was math time, not book time. I take the blame for not doing what I was supposed to be doing.
But that teacher has no idea his actions could have done one of two things—ruin me forever for reading (because I was so embarrassed I’d been caught) or ignite a fire in me that had been smoldering for years, ever since I was seven and penned my first story, to embrace my gifts as an voracious reader and burgeoning writer.
So, in the same way Taylor Swift thanks Amie for bullying her, I’m thanking Mr. X (who shall remain nameless) for pointing out to the entire classroom that I wasn’t paying attention in math and was nose-deep in a book. Because books have become my livelihood. Books are my magic, and my ability to write and edit fiction are gifts I’m grateful for every day.
Kristy's Big Day
The first time I remember getting caught reading was when I was in 5th grade. We’d just gone to the library, and I’d picked up Kristy’s Big Day, book #6 in Ann M. Martin’s Babysitters Club series (I was hooked on them from second to seventh grade).
Unfortunately, right after library was math, but when a shiny new read sat on the corner of my desk, the cover depicting Kristy in a beautiful yellow bridesmaid dress, it was a wrench not to crack open the cover and read at least the first page.
Let me give you a bit of backstory. I was the kid who, at least seventy percent of the time, would rather read than play. (And when I played, I liked Barbies so I could create my own stories with them.) Readathons and book fairs were two of the most exciting days at school, and I even planned after-school readathons with my best friend. You bet I had those purple Book-It pins completely filled with stars. Pizza Hut pizza tastes better when it’s earned by reading.
I was also an introvert and afraid of ever doing anything wrong at home, school, or church (at least, when I was ten). I was an excellent student (except when seated beside a friend, I talked too much). I even liked math, but Kristy’s Big Day was all about a wedding. And her dress! I simply had to read about how the tomboy of the BSC felt being in a pretty dress!
So, while the teacher’s back was turned to the blackboard (I’m that old), I opened the book, the fluorescent lighting glinting off the glossy cover, and peeked at the first page.
And I couldn’t stop reading. Before I realized it, the book was in both hands, held up to my face á la Anne Shirley, and I was getting ready to march down the aisle with Kristy.
This is where the story gets sad (trigger warnings: mean teachers, bullying).
The book was yanked out of my hands and thrown across the room, landing in a sad purple-and-yellow heap in the trash can. My hands shook, my face burned, and tears rolled down my cheeks. My teacher, while always strict but hadn’t been mean up until that point, didn’t say a word. He glared at me, then returned to teaching while the rest of the kids stared at me.
I shouldn’t have been reading in class. I should have been paying attention. The teacher may have said my name several times (although I don’t remember anything except the book-yanking) to remind me that it was math time, not book time. I take the blame for not doing what I was supposed to be doing.
But that teacher has no idea his actions could have done one of two things—ruin me forever for reading (because I was so embarrassed I’d been caught) or ignite a fire in me that had been smoldering for years, ever since I was seven and penned my first story, to embrace my gifts as an voracious reader and burgeoning writer.
So, in the same way Taylor Swift thanks Amie for bullying her, I’m thanking Mr. X (who shall remain nameless) for pointing out to the entire classroom that I wasn’t paying attention in math and was nose-deep in a book. Because books have become my livelihood. Books are my magic, and my ability to write and edit fiction are gifts I’m grateful for every day.
Kristy's Big Day
