My second-grade teacher, Ms. Axelrod, hosted a writers’ workshop every Friday afternoon. Each week, we would write, edit, and ‘publish’ new stories.
I had always loved reading and telling stories, but the publication part was new and alluring.
I still remember the feeling of holding my ‘books’, each penned in blocky, seven-year-old handwriting and bound in construction paper. I was a shy student – not someone who enjoyed public speaking – but I loved our end-of-year reading, where we dressed up and presented our work. From the moment I stepped up to the microphone, book in hand, ready to read my work to an audience of peers and parents, I was hooked.
As I grew older, I stopped saying that
