W elcome to the true story of my life as a reader. The kid in this book is named Henley. But Henley is a version of me.When I was a kid, reading was my biggest challenge. It was the thing that scared me most, because it was such a struggle. In school, when we were asked to do what was called “round- robin” read alouds, my worst nightmare was listening to each student read, knowing my turn was coming. As the book’s passage made its way toward me, my hands would get clammy and my armpits would sweat. Then my heart pounded like a nervous drum. Nothing felt lonelier than being the kid in class who couldn’t read well. Deep down inside, I knew I was as smart as everyone else. I also knew that I really liked stories and the pictures that go with them in some books. Fortunately, through athletic scholarships and people who believed in me, I was able to go to college. That’s where my reading struggles really showed themselves. Trips to the grocery store were stressful because there was so much reading involved in the simple act of buying food. I would misread labels and grab the wrong items. Once, I picked up apple sauce thinking it was apple slices . I didn’t notice my mistake until I got home, realizing that it was my inability to understand the differences in the label wording that caused the mistake. Mishaps like that kept happening. And they showed me that I needed to make an important decision. I wanted to be a better version of me, which meant becoming a stronger reader. I began by practicing reading as much as I practiced football. This meant working at reading just as hard as I worked at sports. The whole thing felt impossible at times. Thankfully, I was surrounded by many caring, patient adults who nurtured me into a reader, especially my mom, who, in my eyes, is a superstar. Mom and others helped me understand that there’s no such thing as a “bad” reader. They showed me that my reading struggles weren’t my fault and didn’t make me a bad person. It’s just the way my brain is wired. I sometimes have trouble with the words on the page. This was all very important for me to come to believe — that I’m not good or bad because of how I read. I also figured out that comparing my way of reading to other people’s is a waste of time. It’s like comparing my name or my smile with someone else’s. These are the things that make me who I am, and that make me special. And it’s why sharing My Very Favorite Book In The Whole Wide World with you is so important to me. — Malcolm Mitchell
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