When I was in first grade, I "read" the book Night of the Ninjas, by Mary Pope Osborne. I use quotation because I did not, in fact, read the book (Though by the next summer I had.) I made a show of scanning the pages of the book for about a month, making sure that someone was always around to watch me do it. I think this must have been the most childish action of my entire life.I wanted other people to think that I could read well so desperately that I was willing to waste an enormous amount of time faking it. In hindsight I recognize the irony of the situation. I could have spent all that time working on my ability to read, which at that point was below average but not unrecoverable. I had, on several occasions, claimed that I would never be able to read. I truly believed that I could and would go through my life without every being able to read fluently or fluidly.
I so enjoyed the attention and praise I received in recognition of my "ability" that I never actually came clean to my parents. Though I am sure that they have forgotten about the book altogether, It stands out in my memory because I deplore the little person who cared so much about others' opinions.
