As a child, I think everyone was given some sort of improbable expectation of what their future would be. That’s a pessimistic way to view the practice that many teachers engage in - telling kids what they could be when they grow up. I totally get it now, a decade later. They were trying to facilitate ideas of the future. Most kids are hit with the realization that they aren’t actually going to be astronauts by at least middle school, and then they can start realistically planning for the future. Those beginning aspirations are able to be humored because kids are young and full of hope. Then, slowly, the real world begins to creep in a little bit, and you learn how much math is actually involved in going up to space, and you are happy to recycle that childhood dream. Some of us continue to strive towards our childhood dreams, with varying levels of success.

One of my most vivid memories from the first grade was getting one hundred percent on a reading quiz for a Junie B. Jones chapter book. Most of my peers could barely read picture books, and there I was. In reality, I was probably just a huge nerd who had more time to practice reading instead of playing a sport or something. Yet my teacher celebrated it like I had won the Nobel Prize. I went to the same school that my mother taught at, so she found out pretty quick after it happened, and both of them bragged about me for weeks to come. This was probably a passing memory for everyone involved, yet it stuck with me forever. After that, I continued to hit reading milestones long before my peers. I still take pride in the fact that I was let into the chapter book section of the library as a second grader, though it was usually restricted to third grade and above. Again - this was a small moment, yet it pushed me further down my path as a reading nerd.

It was third grade the first time - or at least the first time I can remember - that my teacher told me to be an author. That was my astronaut moment, and I started writing stupid short stories like a maniac. I also kind of stopped trying as hard in my math and science classes, because I reasoned I didn’t need to worry about that stuff anymore - because I was going to be an author.

Like most people, I had the realization that being an author was probably impossible. I let myself go a little after that. I have always been an overachiever in classrooms, yet tried not to get down on myself when I did poorly in math or science because I figured it didn't matter. Now, I was stuck and aware that all those years of prioritizing language arts over math and science had kinda screwed me over.

It took awhile for me to crawl back on the math and science horse, but I think I can say I’ve finally done it. However, in the process, I stopped putting as much effort into language arts, in order to balance everything out. I stopped writing my short stories in the seventh grade and stopped reading for pleasure by high school. Before I knew it, I couldn’t just pick up a pen and write anymore, or pick up any book and finish it in a day.

I took a creative writing course which forced me to write sophomore year, yet I had lost all confidence in my writing. I couldn't just bust stories out like a madman, as I used to. I think the main reason was the reality of life in general had hit me, and it was hard to write about talking pieces of food when you were worried about getting into college. I only ever read if I was forced to by a class.

The other part of my lack of motivation definitely had something to do with my increased access to technology. Smartphones, Snapchat, Candy Crush, on-demand and recorded shows, all took up the time that I had previously dedicated to reading and writing. I developed a need for instant gratification, like most of my peers. Why read the book if you can watch the movie?

Fast forward to the end of my freshman year of college. I’ve basically committed to declaring an English major for the time being. For the first time in years, I’m actually excited to read and write again. I don’t know if everyone goes through these slumps in highschool, but I’m personally ecstatic to be enjoying literature and writing again. I’ve read more books purely for pleasure in the past month than I probably have all through high school. I’m rediscovering that passion that first-grade Ali had. Although I by no means have my sights set on becoming an author, I’ve realized I don’t have to be to do what I love.

I have a very long list of book recommendations from my English professor, and I’m planning on reading every one of them this summer. It's nice to be feeding the flames of a fire that’s been practically extinguished for over five years. Hopefully this time around, I won’t completely ignore my science classes - I still have a couple of those to bust out.