![]() I came to the realization that I needed to return to reading – perhaps not at the same level or intensity that I once approached it with, but at least with excitement and a love for it once more – to restore that sense of self. Reading, something that had been so significant in my life and valuable to my academic and personal development, was now missing, and I now felt somewhat disconnected from my own mind and somehow my own body. Like many who were avid readers in their primary school years, entering middle and high school drastically altered not only the time I had for reading but the energy and passion I once possessed for it as well. I often found myself escaping into the pages of thick books and mesmerizing stories – escaping from what I am not sure, but I did know that if I was suddenly granted the gift of transporting myself into Hogwarts’ walls to learn Transfiguration instead of second-grade math I would abuse that power like there was no tomorrow. Throughout elementary school, I rarely went a week without beginning or completing a new novel: I devoured all seven “ Harry Potter ” books within a year, read and reread and reread and reread “ The True Blue Scouts of the Sugar Man Swamp “, adored “ Remarkable”, obsessed over Carli Lloyd’s “ All Heart” and only allowed myself to read “ Esperanza Rising ” once because I could not envision feeling the same magic once more. ![]() By Rosalie Johnson, Reporter, Assistant Editor ![]()
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