I was mortified; I walked into school and braced myself for the worse. Four-eyes was the new name I would be called by my fellow peers and even students I didn’t know. The strangest part was that when I got to class, not only were the words in the books clearer, but everything in my surroundings was. This is what was my saving grace in the attempt of getting me to wear my glasses everyday. I remember sitting on my couch reading Dick and Jane books with my mom and dad. Sometimes they would even go to our bookshelf and pull down the old, worn, red Dick and Jane book they had and let me read out of it with them. I now realize, if it wasn’t for their commitment I may have never been ok with reading out loud. For the most part everyone already knew their ABC’s and how to write them as individual letters so we started on cursive almost immediately. Shaping each letter in a new way, we …show more content…
Do you remember those Magic Tree House books? No? Well I do, everyone loved them! Except me, and of course my teacher just had to choose one as the assigned reading. If I remember correctly it was the one about dinosaurs, I read maybe half of it and then stopped because I couldn’t stand to read another page. Again this added to my hatred of reading. I just did not enjoy it at all, there were so many things that I would rather do then sit down with a book. After moving to a new state I was introduced to the fact that states go by different standards. I was now living in Texas, and though they weren’t horribly behind on their standards compared to Virginia, they were still behind. I think this is what influenced my even greater hatred for writing. All we would do were things I had already been doing since kindergarten. The only thing I really got from it was more words that I will never remember how to spell correctly. However my reading/writing teacher did give me some new found love for
The books Redwall by: Brian Jacques and the Harry Potter Series by: J.K. Rowling share many similar and different character traits, themes and symbols. Redwall takes place place during a medieval time in an abbey and the characters are woodland animals. The Harry Potter series takes place in modern day England primarily in school of magic where teenagers learn how to harness their magical powers and abilities. The two may not be similar in terms of plot, but Redwall and Harry Potter both share the themes and symbols of courage, compassion and evil.
No one can truly say that they do not like to read, because if you do not like to read that just means that you have not found the right book for you. I have never been a fan of reading, growing up I would only read when I was forced to. When I found that one author I learned that it is not that I did not enjoy reading, it is that I never found the author that spoke to me.
My grandmother introduced me to reading before I’d even entered school. She babysat me while my parents were at work, and spent hours reading to me from picture books as my wide eyes drank in the colorful illustrations. As a result, I entered my first year of school with an early passion for reading. Throughout elementary and middle school, I was captivated by tales of fire-breathing dragons, mystical wizards, and spirited foreign gods. A book accompanied me nearly everywhere I went, smuggled into my backpack or tucked safely under my arm. I was often the child who sat alone at lunch, not because she didn’t have friends, but because she was more interested in a wizards’ duel than the petty dramas of middle school girls. I was the child who passed every history test because she was the only kid who didn’t mind reading the textbook in her spare time, and the child who the school librarian knew by name. Reading provided a
My dad taught me that books could be my teachers, my mom taught me that our backyard could be my classroom, and my sister showed me that you could bring books into the swimming pool. I did not know it when I would spend hours in the pool reading a book that my parents weren’t encouraging it in vain, but my family life, for good reason, was centered on books. We were the planets orbiting around one sun that was the bookshelf. Little did I know that books would be the catalyst to academic success in my early life, and I owe it all to my family. Although a life with a book in your nose might seem boring, I was never bored. Living through the characters vicariously, I explored Narnia with Lucy, attended Hogwarts with Harry, and rode dragons with Eragon. Of course
No one could ever comprehend the hatred I had for reading- no one. Reading to me was just like being deathly ill, stuck inside, watching the neighbors play and know you couldn't join. On Monday morning I sat down in my teacher Mrs. Daniels class. I had a strange feeling reading would be an assignment coming up soon. I was dreading what I knew she was going to say next. “Class you will have 4 weeks to complete this book.” As I heard these words come out of her mouth I lowered myself into my seat like a turtle slowly going into its shell. I felt as if I was drowning and no one could save me until my life was over. Not only did I hate reading but I hated it even more when I was forced to. I thought in my head, “Why. Why make us read a dumb book that will do nothing but take away my social life.” Never did I know the book I was about to read would have such an impact
Throughout my childhood, the idea of having a college education was greatly stressed. As a result, it was my duty as the next generational child, to excel in my studies and achieve a life of prosperity and success. Learning became the basic foundation of my growth. Therefore, my youth was overtaken by many hours spent reading and writing what was known to be correct "Standard" English. I first found this to be a great shortcoming, but as I grew older, I began to realize the many rewards acquired by having the ability to be literate.
I enjoy reading. It's what occupied me in my elementary school life. I just got into comic books which I enjoy, though I can’t name my favorite. My favorite book is a feast for dragons by George R.R Martin. A pet peeve that I have about reading is when people cannot read in their head, people who spoil books, and people who spoil books wrong by saying he/she dies in the end.
After a few months of living in Hawaii, I started to become accustomed to the laid-back lifestyle. I did not read any books outside of class. I did not care about my grades as long as they were not a C. I went outside everyday and I played at the park just like what every elementary school kid did. My interest in this "higher standard" was
...dealt with boring things that happened in the past. My school did this to try to prepare the students for the SAT’s. In junior year, when it came time to take the SAT’s, I hated it. After I was always forced to read books that were not exciting I never found myself simply reading for pleasure.
I still remember sitting in the library at 8:30 at night in the individual study room trying to differentiate between “there” and “their”. I would come from school and television wasn’t an option, I would have flashcards and books to read. I would love when my mother would come home late from work because it gave me extra time to hide my video game console in the spot she usually hides it in. I believe that’s where my stubbornness with education came to fruition. I stopped taking school seriously just like how Waverly stubbornly gave up on chess.
I have always been an artistic person, and I saw writing as another way to express myself artistically. Many students my age hated to write but I never saw it as a burden. I carried that passion throughout high school and continue to enjoy it in college. My junior and senior English teacher, Mrs. McGhee, had the biggest impact of my writing skills. She was always a tough grader and always made sure to elaborate on our mistakes. She is the reason I became such a strong writer. She and Anne Lamott have similar personalities. Lamott states, “It’s not like you don’t have a choice, because you do- you can either type or kill yourself.” Mrs. McGhee hated excuses. She expected her students to complete the tasks that were given to them, but, of course, high school students always complained and probably rather kill themselves than write a paper. She constantly motivated her students to work hard and complete their work to the best of their abilities. I cannot thank her enough for the impact she has had on my academic
Reading always became tiresome to me. We had a reading block in class everyday. The reading block was to make us read fifteen minutes straight a day. Ms. Peshca, my seventh grade teacher, ensured that the class would read. I never read the books until we started reading The Hunger Games.
As I went through high school there were a number of individuals who often made remarks about how my brother is a better reader and writer than I am. There is no denying that my brother is in fact a good reader and writer. As a result my sophomore year of high school was the turning point for me in writing. I really enjoyed my English class and I really like my English teacher. Because of all of the remarks about how my brother was better than me I looked at it as motivation to do better and improve my skills and I developed the desire to achieve success in the class. I began to work exceedingly hard by spending countless hours studying and reading carefully over the assignments. My outpouring desire to do well continued up through my senior year of high school I discovered enjoyment in reading and writing again in my English classes and the teachers taught the classes in a way that I found very gratifying. For example senior year my teacher connected the Star Wars series with various literary concepts. By the conclusion of my senior year I was awarded by my English teachers the outstanding senior award in English. Although I still do not often read for enjoyment I do not look at reading and writing as such of a burden anymore. My attitude towards reading and writing has drastically changed a number of times throughout my
The next 6 years of Helen’s life were spend in tantrums, darkness and all around loneliness. “I got used to the silence and darkness that surrounded me and forgot it had ever been different, until she came- my teacher” (Keller 1902 Pg. 8). She had many fits, and refused any instruction. Her family was very poor, and could afford very little. The “teacher” as Helen called her; was Anne Sullivan who had contracted trachoma as a child and was as well legally blind. Annie was said to have saved Helen. Within 6 months of teaching from Sullivan Keller quickly advanced. She became well known to reading and writing in Braille, as well as writing in a manual alphabet.
I remember that, when being taught to read I already knew more words than I had realized. Watching my dad’s finger skim under the words as he read them had helped me subconsciously learn those words. I learned to read and write at a much more accelerated pace than my peers. I felt impatient with those who lagged behind, not realizing that not everyone had been given the same advantages as me. The moment I started to read on my own, my great aunt, a retired kindergarten teacher, would send me a box of books she had used in her classroom every year for my birthday. Throughout elementary school, when I received the box, I would bring it up to my room and practice reading all the books on my own. Being able to read on my own opened the door to a world I hadn’t been able to reach without help