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One of my earliest memories of my childhood in the Upper Peninsula
of Michigan is lying on the kitchen floor reading to my mother.
I also
enjoyed her reading to me and looked forward to going to school
so I could pick out books for myself. However, my first day of
kindergarten at our nearby one-room school was disappointing because
the teacher
gave me only one book. When I saw directions printed along the
edges
of the pages, I turned the book sideways and drew lines to all
the things that matched and crossed out the ones that were different.
Soon the teacher promoted me to first grade and gave me books
with stories.
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| When I finished fifth grade I saw no
reason to continue going to school as I thought I had learned everything
worth knowing. But I went on to the big school in town. There I discovered
the library, one whole wall of a large room, floor to eye-level filled
with books. My goal was to read every one. |
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| Reading led to my next
love—writing.
It was a treat for me when my teacher assigned an essay. One of my
stories was printed in our school newspaper. In high school I entered
two writing contests and won both, so I considered writing as a career.
However, when I went to college I decided to become a teacher so
I could share my love of reading and writing with children. |
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When I taught, I read
to my students every day and often gave them opportunities to write.
Sometimes I
shared my writing with the class. One story was about a child with
a stuck zipper. The kids laughed in the right places. Friends encouraged
me to send it to a publisher. The editor at Greenwillow liked it,
and The Jacket I Wear in the Snow became my first published
book. |
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Besides books for
children, I sometimes write for magazines, both for children and
for adults.
I also like
visiting schools to read my stories and share my writing experiences.
I know the hard work of writing has been worthwhile when a child
says, “I read your book and I like it.”
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