I didn’t learn how to read until second grade. I don’t know how factual this is, but I remember I told my mom I didn’t understand the worksheets in class and suddenly I was being taken out of Mrs. Pittman’s class on a daily basis to practice reading picture books. For a few weeks, I was given books that made the Berenstain Bears look written by William Faulkner. Soon I graduated to reading the Magic Tree House books. And, in almost time, I checked out Jaws at the public library and never looked back.

My mom says she thought I was faking. How had I gone from being illiterate to reading Peter Benchley?

My future biographers may deduce that I just had confidence issues. Maybe I really could read; I just didn’t believe I could.