From Book Reports to Bookstores — How a 7th Grade Summer Changed My Life

I didn’t always dream of being a writer.

In fact, back in 7th grade, I was just trying to survive middle school like the rest of us, awkward, unsure, and a little overwhelmed. So when my teacher, Ms. Lee, pulled me aside and suggested I join a summer reading class, I didn’t exactly jump for joy. I didn’t understand why she recommended me, or what I was supposed to get out of it. But something in the way she said, “I think you’d really benefit from this” stuck with me.

So I said yes.

The rules of the class were simple: show up for two hours a day, read one book a week, write a book report, and give a short presentation. That was it. No tricks, no shortcuts. Just me, a book, and a deadline.

From Book Reports to Bookstores — How a 7th Grade Summer Changed My Life

At the beginning of that summer, my reading level was 6.8—meaning I read like a sixth grader in their eighth month of school. By the end of the eight weeks, my level had jumped to 8.8. I hadn’t even started 8th grade yet, and here I was reading well above my level.

That was the first time I realized the power of books. Not just for school, not just for grades, but for growth.

Something shifted in me that summer. For the first time, I saw reading as a way to discover new worlds, new voices, new parts of myself. And somewhere along the way, I started wondering… what if one day I wrote something that made someone else feel this way?

Of course, life moved on. High school, college, career. I wore a lot of hats and played a lot of roles. But that quiet voice never left. The one that said, “What if you were a writer?”

Fast forward to today, and here I am—a published author. And honestly? It still blows my mind. Because little 7th-grade Arminé, scribbling book reports and nervously presenting them to a room of peers, could never have imagined that one day I’d hold my own book in my hands. That I’d be writing words others would highlight, journal about, or maybe even carry with them through a season of transition.

So why am I sharing this?

Because I want to remind you that dreams often start as whispers. As nudges. As moments you don’t understand until after they’ve shaped you. I want to remind you that you don’t have to have it all figured out to begin. You just have to start.

And most of all, I want to encourage you to visualize yourself. Even if it feels silly or far off. Even if no one else sees it yet. Because I had a quiet little thought once—what if I was a writer?—and I followed it. Slowly, imperfectly, but wholeheartedly.

And now? People are reading my book.

So dream big.
Read often.
And never underestimate the power of a summer reading class, a good teacher, and the books that find us right when we need them most.