I've been reading longer than I can remember. I got my first book of mythology when I was 4 (I think I still have it, but it's probably at mother and dad's place in the basement). I was on novels by the time I hit 5. Read Hitchhiker's Guide for the first time when I was 7 or 8.

My parents have no room to talk to me about how many books I have (I've never once been asked by anyone if I'd read all those books), as they have many, many more. Plus magazines. I expect the shelves to collapse at any time, based on the amount of sagging from overload. (They have pretty narrow interests, though, which is why I spent huge amounts of time reading natural history texts, science fiction, and nursing manuals before they started letting me choose my own books at the library.)

The only times I can recall being told not to read was when I was being punished for something. Long drives? Need me to be quiet? Hand me a book. Or two.

At no point growing up did I consider this unusual, which I suppose was a side benefit of being placed in the gifted and talented program with my fellow addicts. (Ah, the joys of trading books after class and learning ALL about sex through Piers Anthony's more adult works. Good times, good times.)

Ah, Literary Conversation #3 -- Childhood Reading Habits.

I nagged my mother to teach me to read, though I'm not sure where I picked up the bug. She insisted on waiting until I turned 4.

My teachers didn't encourage reading so much as they did "work at your own pace." I went to a -- not progressive, but also not quite traditional grade school. My 3rd grade teacher set up a number of stations around the room where you could go when your work was done. Each station had an envelope with a number of slips of paper with ideas for constructive things to do -- one said simply, "Think."

In 6th grade, the school started a new math system that was entirely work-at-your-own-pace. I blew through it and spent the second semester helping to grade papers and tutor other students (mostly in my younger brother's class, which he didn't appreciate -- but that's another story). In reading class, I read ahead -- and ended up well ahead of everyone.

In 7th or 8th grade, the school system started what they called USSR -- Uninterrupted Sustained Silent Reading. Every Friday afternoon, we'd spend half an hour reading something of our own choice. I spent much of the semester on Shelby Foote's history of the Civil War.

After 8th grade, we moved to another school district. My sophomore English teacher gave us all a list of books that some expert/group believed people "should" read to be considered educated. She added Watership Down. She then asked us to read one book off the list (our choice) and discuss with a group.

Oh, and Plei, I learned a whole lot about sex from reading The Godfather.

Hehe, I used to read at the dinner table all the time. My mom was generally ok with it, although it often meant I would sit at the table loooong after dinner was done. I used to have the habit of keeping books around the table that I'd even read before, too- enough to the point that I could open it at and point and know exactly what was going on, so I would just pick it up at dinner, open it anywhere, and start reading.

In 7th or 8th grade, the school system started what they called USSR -- Uninterrupted Sustained Silent Reading.

Hey, we had that, but we just had SSR. I don't remember what grade. There was also RIF (Reading Is Fundamental), from which I got several free books. Mmm, free books. Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher.

My folks were both big readers, as was my older sister. We weren't allowed to read at the table, but everywhere else was fair game. Books were rewards. For example, after a couple of hours of being dragged through the mall to buy clothes I'd get to pick out a new book. This mindset has never really left me.

In fifth grade I had a teacher who made us read as a punishment. Dude. Might as well give me kaluha brownies and gay porn as a reward for being a smartass. Sadly my mom clued her in before I'd gotten through more than one collection of Thurber's short stories.

We never had read-a-thons or the like in my school. Pity.

In fifth grade I had a teacher who made us read as a punishment.

Oh, that's clever. "Let's teach the bright kids to act up, and the struggling ones to hate learning".

I'd read in class all the time, with a book tucked under the desk. I got very good at listening to what was going on while reading so I could answer questions. But, dammit, when you decide the quiet kids need to be in the back and the troublemakers in the front, and you stick one quiet kid next to the book case in the far back corner, you shouldn't be surprised what happens.

The World Book Encyclopedia was my friend.

The read-a-thons we had were at the library, not the school, and they were a summer thing. I think that, if they'd been at the school, I might have felt differently about them.

I think the only school reading contests we had, other than Book-It, which was an external program, was that for about ten days before winter break, there would be a trivia question about a book in the school library, and we could give out answers, and then they'd randomly choose one kid from all the ones with correct answers to get a prize. (The only question I remember right now was "What brand of chewing gum did Sam steal in Lois Lowry's All About Sam?" The answer was Dentyne, and I got it wrong.)

I had one teacher who, if we didn't have a homework assignment done, would tell us to do it during some free time during the afternoon, and then, if we didn't finish it then, we'd have to sit out and finish it while the rest of the class was playing kick ball. She eventually caught on as to why I started missing my math assignments every day.

I don't remember not being able to read. I do remember plently of times reading something (or starting something) of which I comprehended about Zero, due to vocabulary or sentence structure or subtlety of ideas. Some of these I came back to years later and was like, Oh! There is a point to this!

I don't think I ever joined any of the library summer reading initiatives as a child, although I remember colored-in posters on the walls from other children reaching their goals. (For some reason, I do not come from join-y people.) But I can still remember the layout of the children's room upstairs in the Auburn, Maine public library, and the general location of several authors within that layout.

I think this is why I always forget to check my voicemail: brain full of things like library layouts from when I was 10.

I do remember not being able to read, because my parents were pretty clear that they were not reading to me if I could. In fact, they kinda forced me into it, just to avoid having to go through Where The Wild Things Are One. More. Time. I have vague, light memories of having that read to me, probably my earliest memories (well, that and my dad mending the footies of my PJs, and me being surprised even then that he could sew).