Third Grade Me and How I Never Forgot
I was a slow reader when I was young. Full disclosure: I’m still a slow reader—no big deal. But back in third grade and earlier, as a struggling reader, no matter what I did, I could not move up from the “Group 3” readers to Group 2 and certainly not Group 1. For an eight-year-old, that was a very big deal.
I know many teachers still use reading levels, and this is now under great debate, but it was nothing but a horrible experience for me and was a deterrent to my progress as a reader in many ways—anyway, I am digressing from the start so let me get back to my story.
As I said, I tried everything to advance to Group 2. Group 1 was my ultimate dream—weird, but that’s how my eight-year-old brain worked. My mom brought home books, and she would work with me, so I had wonderful support. Though I probably made more strides at home than at school, it just wasn’t enough for the teacher to notice my improvement. I liked reading as I knew, even as a little kid, that I could be a part of an adventure by reading books–and I liked that. But as a slow-reading little kid, this was painful time, but I kept plugging along.
When I was in third grade the bottom fell out for me.
I remember that day so clearly. The teacher, who I will only refer to only as Miss Cringeworthy told us, in her usual harsh tone, to open our readers. Our readers were full of forgetful stories that were anything but what third graders may read today: Matilda, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Captain Underpants, Stuart Little, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to mention a few..
The book we read was a collection of archaic and unmemorable stories. What we read was the only part of that day that I can’t fully recall. I just know the stories were NOT interesting. Maybe if they were, I wouldn’t have struggled as much.
Our desks were arranged in rows. Miss Cringeworthy always started our reading lesson by having the first kid in the first row read the first paragraph. they would be followed by the second kid who would read the second paragraph and so on down the row to start again with row two.
I was the twelfth kid and near the end of the second row. I looked ahead in the story to find “my paragraph” that I would be reading. Reading it over and over again I hoped I would read it perfectly when it was my turn.
That was my plan – struggling reader or not!.
The Worst Silence
My heart began to beat faster and faster as the eleventh kid was finishing her paragraph. I cleared my throat and I began to read. I thought I was doing fine. But the next thing I heard came from Miss Cringeworthy. At the top of her lungs she bellowed, “STOP!”
It seemed like the worst silence I have ever experienced, as I felt my heart thump and thought the rest of my classmates could hear the “thump” too.
From where she was standing at the front of the room, she began to slowly walk down the aisle to where I sat. The only sound in the air was the click-click of her pointy high heels that she stuffed her feet into that morning. Each short step she tookgnawed at me until she stopped and hovered over me. Looking up, her face reminded me of a bowl of quivering Jello and her eyes bulged out.
I swallowed and looked right at her.
“I taught your older sister,” she said softly.
Pause.
“And I believe your older brother as well.”
Another pause that was much too long for any eight-year-old to endure.
“And you are nothing like them.”
Still looking at her bulging eyes in a pool of jiggling Jello, I was crushed–I was mortified.
My eyes welled up and I was ready to bust out and cry. But I don’t know how I did it, but I held it in.
But I cried inside. Thankfully the class looked down at their books and said nothing.
She click-clicked her way back to the front of the classroom. That was that…until I told my mom…but that is another story.
Here’s me speaking to a college-level course in 2023 about writing fantasy.
Photo by Lisa Cipolletti >>
So…From a Struggling Reader to Writing Fantasy...Years Later
I never dwelt on this moment but I never forgot it either. Leap forward to 2011. As a lifelong daydreamer and lover of fantasy, I looked back at that moment and decided I wanted to write a story that I would have loved as that kid—and as an adult.
One that would captivate the reader that was full of mystery, marvel, and magic.
My story had to be about a young boy who was searching for answers; a story where the mentor was an encouraging guide. I wanted to write about following our heart and our truth. I wrote the first book, The Amulet: Journey to Sirok, of a fantasy trilogy. I called the series The Elias Chronicles.
Miss Cringeworthy was long gone before I wrote and published Book I of the trilogy, otherwise, I would have delivered her a personally signed copy–with a smile..
Have you ever had an experience like this one? What did you do about it? Let me know.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
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