When I was really little, my favorite book was 'The BFG'. I read

Madison Pettis, in the innocence of remembrance, once said: “When I was really little, my favorite book was The BFG. I read it — my teacher in, like, first grade read it to us. I love that book.” Though simple in form, these words carry the fragrance of childhood wonder, where stories are more than entertainment; they are gateways into the imagination, companions in solitude, and seeds of wisdom planted in tender hearts. In her memory of a teacher reading aloud, we are reminded that the first voices of literature often shape us more deeply than we know.

The meaning of this quote lies in the recognition that books are not merely ink upon paper, but vessels of magic. For a child, the tale of The BFG is not only about a giant and his dreams, but about kindness, courage, and the triumph of good over cruelty. To say that it was her favorite book is to admit that it spoke to her soul, that it nourished her imagination when it was still being formed. The voices of our teachers, reading aloud in classrooms, are like sacred chants that awaken within us a love for stories, for wonder, for learning itself.

The origin of this joy reaches deep into the tradition of storytelling. Long before written books, elders would gather children by the fire and recount tales of heroes, monsters, and the mysteries of the world. These stories were not idle amusements but lessons clothed in wonder. Madison Pettis’s memory of her teacher reading The BFG is but a continuation of this ancient chain, where knowledge and imagination are passed down through the spoken word, binding one generation to the next.

History gives us examples of how stories shape destiny. Consider the young Abraham Lincoln, who in his boyhood treasured the few books he could find: Aesop’s Fables, the Bible, and Pilgrim’s Progress. These stories planted in him the seeds of wisdom, morality, and perseverance, which later blossomed into leadership that carried a nation through its darkest hour. Just as Lincoln’s childhood books guided his spirit, so too may a child’s favorite story become a hidden compass for their future.

Madison Pettis’s recollection also reminds us of the power of teachers. For it was not only the book itself, but the teacher who breathed life into its words, that made the memory sacred. The tone of the voice, the rhythm of the reading, the shared silence of the classroom — all of these wove together to create an experience that etched itself upon her soul. Thus, teaching is not merely instruction; it is the planting of dreams, the awakening of a lifelong love of learning.

The lesson for future generations is this: cherish the stories of your youth, for they are not small things. They are the sparks that light the imagination, the companions that stay in your heart, the gentle guides that whisper truths too deep for simple lessons. Parents and teachers must understand that every story read aloud may leave an eternal mark, and children must be encouraged to love books, for through them they will glimpse worlds beyond their own.

Practical action follows. Parents, read to your children. Teachers, give time for stories, even amidst the demands of tests and lessons. And to all who hear these words: return, sometimes, to the books you loved as a child. They hold treasures that may still nourish your soul in adulthood. For in revisiting them, you reconnect with the purest parts of yourself, and you remember that wisdom often begins in wonder.

Thus, Madison Pettis’s simple memory becomes a teaching for the ages: that the favorite book of childhood is not only a source of joy, but a torch that can light the path for years to come. Let us, then, honor the books, the teachers, and the voices that awakened our imaginations, for they are the unseen architects of who we become.