My first memory of being read to is my mom reading to me Arabic stories about the prophets (peace be upon them). Each night she read about one of the prophet (Ibrahim, Jesus, Noah, ... etc.). She read at home on the couch to me and my younger brothers. I also remember my mom reading to me stories written in Arabic with pictures. One of the stories I remember was (Rapunzel). I remember going to the library with my mother and buying Arabic stories.
As for English, I first encountered English when I was 5 years old but I don’t remember how. However, I do remember being read to English stories by my first grade teacher in the U.S. In second grade, I remember we read with the teacher a story about a city in the future where cars drive without drivers and people would wear pack backs that transformed into rocket ship that would carry people around to wherever they want to go. The teacher told us to add an idea to this future city, I remember that I wrote that I wanted a clock which enables me to watch TV and listen to music all the time. The first story I read on my own reading a story about two friends finding a grocery list on the ground and thought that it was a pancake recipe, so they decided to try it but ended up with tuna pancakes that they eventually fed to the cats.
I remember in third grade writing a story where I imagined myself as a stamp. I wrote about how I would move from the post office to someone’s home, get stamped on the envelop, put in the mailbox, being carried by the mailman, going to airplanes, being lost, and finally arriving to the destination. It was a school homework but I wrote it at home.
When I was a teenager, I thought that I was terrible writer in Arabic because teachers gave me negative feedback on my writing. However, when I was 14 years old, I started to keep a diary. I used to record important events in my daily life. I remember one of my friends moved to a different school and I wrote in my diary how I felt. I was free writing and did not pay any attention to the rules of writing Arabic. I remember my mom reading it and telling me that she likes the way I write and that it was unique. That was the first time I heard a compliment about my writing.