The book was called “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho. I liked it because it was like the stories my mom read to me, out of 1001 Arabian nights, when I was young. I started reading the book and from the very first page it immediately drew my attention. Whenever I opened it I could not close until I had to do something really important. I finished reading the book over the course of three month due to my busy schedule, but I admit that I was a slow reader.
My Literacy Journey Throughout my childhood I was never very good at reading. It was something I always struggled with and I grew to not like reading because of this. As a child my mom and dad would read books to me before I went to bed and I always enjoyed looking at the pictures and listening. Then, as I got older my mom would have me begin to read with her out loud. I did not like this because I was not a good reader and I would get so frustrated.
I chose to write about my grandfather, because he had just passed away two weeks ago when class began and writing about him really helped me. Looking back, I think I chose a topic in heat of the moment instead of really thinking on it. When writing my essay there were several time when I wish I would have chosen a different topic, not because it was difficult to write about, but because it brought up a lot of emotion on my behalf. This essay took me several days to write, the story came naturally but the emotion took over at times. I wrote the introduction one day then worked on the remainder of the essay over the next three days.
Everything I chose to read from then on kept me interested and made me want to read more. That’s how my first year of grade school went. In first grade I learned how to read and write. My inspiration that year was my teacher Mrs. Garza. I remember thinking that she was the prettiest lady I had ever met (besides my mom) and I did everything I could to try to impress her.
I guess you could say no one in my family is really outstanding academically. Being bad at reading and writing, (but mostly reading) made me think that I was never going to be successful in my future life. Five years later flew by; in the 7th grade I got taken out of my English class everyday because of my IEP, and my helper teacher helped me with whatever I needed. She read and explaine... ... middle of paper ... ...to him one on one and all he had to say to me was good things. He said, “Evie, you have made a huge progress this year.
Weeks earlier, reading anything was a chore, taking me up to three weeks to read just on book. But with the help of my sister, I pushed myself based on what my sister did, I found that it became easier and easier. I started to love to read. I never thought, in my wildest dreams, that I would actually enjoy reading words in a book. Not only did reading help my grades go up significantly, I found something I enjoyed doing, it even made reading textbooks, or school assigned books a lot easier to finish.
I did not enjoy going over there to read, especially since it was summer, but I did get rewarded after finishing a book with a game of Guess Who? with my grandmother. Starting second grade, my cousin and I had the same teacher, Mrs. Hrenko. She assigned us text to read, so later that day I went to my cousin’s house to practice the reading. We were sitting in her room and the word island was in the text, and we kept pronouncing it as two separate words, is and land.
This was mainly because I loved the idea of living vicariously through someone 's life. One of my favorite series is the Clique series which is about a group of popular girls navigating through high school. I started this these books in elementary school and reread them all throughout high school and though I was reading about arbitrary things like fighting over boys or crazy holiday parties the entertainment from this series possessed me to find more pleasure books. At the same time, this entertainment buzz quickly turned from a consistent means to continue to strengthen my literacy to me lugging my book to every class and reading instead of paying attention. Consequently, my teachers started to notice I was no longer listening to them and began taking my books and at first, this only fueled my stubborn nature and
From early on, I knew English would be my kryptonite. I was never interested in the subject and the books assigned along with the endless research papers made me resent the “boring” subject even more. It seemed as though many of my teachers in the past did not care for our feelings towards the material we covered or how we grew as readers and writers. We had no say in what we wanted to do or what we wanted to get out of the class. I understand that we had standards and certain things we needed to cover by the end of the year, but it would have been helpful if the teachers cared about what we wanted to learn, not only about reading and writing, but about ourselves as well.
She graduated from college with a major in Journalism and a minor in English. From before I could comprehend what she was saying, my mom was reading to me. She started out reading simple, easy books to me every night, and as I grew older and could understand reading more fully, I began to read them on my own as well. I can still remember half of the lines from some of my favorite books as a kid because we read them so much. Having a mom who enjoyed to read affected my experience with reading quite a bit.