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.
Many times, I did not comprehend what I was reading and would have to re-read passages over and over again. Now starting my senior year in high school, I am a better reader. My peers can read just as well as I can. I am still not as confident as I would like to be, but I am working on it. Reading out loud makes reading it class easier.
I was probably that annoying little sister because I enjoyed reading to my older brother, who was a pre-teen at the time. He always seemed annoyed that his little sister was always reading. I remember a particular instance where he asked me if I could read in my head, and I belted out, “No, I don’t know how.” As I started
My parents forced me to pick up the book, and before I knew it, I was enthralled with the story. Having never been a proficient reader, getting through the book by myself was difficult, but the need to understand the story had me rereading every page. Harry Potter contained no profound, life changing morals but it did capture the imagination and ignited my passion for reading. What I had once associated with boredom and saw as a chore, I now actively sought out more, to the point where reading replaced watching television as a favorite pastime. Afterwards, the first books I would read of my own violation all had compelling stories, like Harry Potter, and the more I read, the less intimidated I was of reading.
I would read about three to four books a week because I just loved to see the words come off of the page in my imagination. Although I found passions in other things I did miss writing. My writing stayed stagnant for most of high school. I would sometimes get a low B in English classes but others I found myself with a high C. It wasn’t until my senior year that I found a love for writing again. My senior teacher’s name was Mrs. Delph.
During the beginning of my youth, I spent several nights sleeping in my mom 's bed. At the end of each night instead of hearing the notes of a lullaby, I often heard the soft crackle of a crisp page being turned in a book. Almost every night she would read, to herself of course. She didn 't read to me like a stereotypical mother would. On one hand, this seems harsh, but it was her display of passion that made me want to read.
Oh how I dreaded English 103 online… I stayed up late and spent days thinking and planning on my papers and watching videos ect. Sometimes as I read through the discussions I was discouraged and amazed to see such great writers, I wondered where did they learn this great skill? English class or their upbringing? I know everyone is different and learns differently and we all have our own language, way of speech but I’m as near close to skill writing as some of my class mates. It was also very discouraging to get low scores after I thought I was doing great, I reached out to my counselor and the writing center, in which they helped me a lot.
My expectations were that it was going to be a long, boring, and torturous few months trying to digest the material. Overall, I would have to say that I was right, but there were a few stories that surprised me. As an adult, my tastes and interests have changed, and I think that the struggles of the characters in some of the books I read in the past can be equated with the struggles I endured as well. Understanding and Appreciation In high school, I did not appreciate the stories that I was forced to read. I could not see how I could relate to any of the characters I read about.
Once I did that, my love for reading began and recently has been coming back after a lost of love for reading. My whole childhood I never enjoyed reading books, all i liked to do was watch tv, play games, go on computer, and play outside. I loved school but every friday my third grade teacher made the students rent out a book from the library. I would just grab any book when i walked in, rent the book and put it in my backpack then sit down and talk to my friends. The next time the book came out was when it was time to return it back to the library.
I had a teacher named Mrs. Coons for my 6th grade reading class. We didn’t always get along, but I do credit her for being the first teacher to get me to start thinking a little more about the reading material that had been placed in front of me. Mrs. Coons attempted to get us to get our feet wet in the idea pool of being analytical readers, but I struggled and never tried to work harder on the concept of it. Even though I always excelled at reading and understanding the basic purpose of what I read, I never understood that there were deeper meanings as to why an author wrote a book. This is what led to my downfall as a reader.