It was approximately 14 years ago when I started to comprehend words and know what a book was. My grandmother, who has raised me my whole life taught me how to read, write and everything else. She would always find something constructive for me to do that was educational. It was almost time for me to start going to preschool, so she decided that she would help me learn how to read. When I was younger, my grandmother used to read to me Dick and Jane books. Every day she would call me into the living room, so she could read to me. Whenever it was reading time I would sit on her lap and listen to her read to me. By sitting on her lap and listening to her closely made it easier for me to comprehend the words and visualize the sceneries. I enjoyed …show more content…
I went to the bookshelf and got one of the Dick and Jane books off and sat down on the couch next to her. As I began to start reading to her,she and I both noticed that I was reading fluently and enunciating the words correctly. After I finished reading to her she was so proud of me! By her reading to me every day and listening to her really helped me learn how to read. As time has flown, it was time for me to go to school. Since my grandmother taught me how to read at an early age it became easy for me to comprehend things and read at a faster pace than others. During my primary school days we had “Read Around the World,” which was when you have to read so many books in one continent and pass the A.R. (accelerated reading) test to move on to the next continent, and also to another book level. Read Around the World was a fun activity during school because I enjoyed reading and having a little competition with my peers and also going around the world …show more content…
I was in kindergarten at Andalusia Elementary and my teacher was Mrs.Holmes. Earlier in the week Mrs.Holmes took our class to the library, so we could pick out a book to take home and read. As I was roaming around the library, I finally found me a book to read. The name of the book was “The Berenstain Bears and the Trouble at School.” I remember going home and laying down on my bed reading the book. The book was about how Brother Bear failed his division test, and Grizzly Gramps was mad at him but at the end of the book Grizzly Gramps helps Brother Bear with his division, so that he would not fail again. The next day Brother Bear had another division test, but this time he passed the test. The next morning when I got to class I asked Mrs.Holmes if I could go take my A.R. test and she said, “Yes!” As I was walking towards the computer I started to get nervous because it was my first and I did not want to fail.While I go on the computer and searched the title of my book I told myself that I got it and to just do my best. Once I found the book my heart began to pound because I was still nervous. During the test I noticed the question was very easy to me and since I read the book I breezed through the test and when I got to the last question it gave me my score which was “100/A+.” My teacher and I were both happy that I passed the test, and she gave me sticker with a smiley face on it and a piece of
As a child, I struggled in school and I found that the more my literacies overlapped, the more I learned. There was a point when I worried that I would never become anything. I had not really thought about how I got to the point I am now, but looking back, I can see that somethings made a big impact on my life, education and the way I learn. Social movements and cultural events as well as Historical and political events influence all of our literacies and education starting at birth. The easiest way for me to express this is going through the events in my life as they affected me.
“One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.” These were the words from one of the greatest authors of all time, Dr. Seuss, that sprouted the enjoyment of reading. I was a young lad when I first started looking at words, and although I could not understand them, I knew they had some significant meaning to them. Reading played a huge role in my life, and it all started when my mom read books to me as a baby, when I first read a book for myself, and, of course, when I was required to read at school.
Early literacy for me was challenging. I started to learn reading and writing at age six. I still remember students from school would make fun by not knowing how to read, but they never knew I was struggling with both English and Spanish reading and writing. My parents are both from Guatemala; they came to the U.S at a very young age. My father was the only one to go to school. My mother did not attend school because it was difficult by her immigration status. When I was little, Spanish was not my mother's first language, so when she wanted to help me with reading and to write in English, she had a difficult time. My mother taught me reading and writing in the Mayan language. My father only taught me reading and writing one hour per week. Whenever my father was through showing me an hour of writing and reading, I had to explain the same lesson to my younger
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. During this time I would struggle greatly with reading the pages fluently, I also would mix up some of the letters at times. I also struggled with comprehension, as I got older. My mom would make me read the Junie B. Jones books by myself and then I would have to tell her what happened. Most
I will always remember the effect of a civil war in Nigeria that left hundreds of thousands of children malnourished. Tens of thousands of the rural population were afflicted with different types of diseases. Malaria fever was prevalent, and it was the main cause of death among children and infants. I can recall vividly sitting in an empty room after the end of the civil war in 1970, and assured my self that I must go beyond the confines of my continent – Africa to seek knowledge so as to assist in alleviating the suffering of my people. After I had graduated from high school, my dream of coming to the United States of America was far fetched reality. At that time in my life, coming to America was almost impossible. My family lost everything during the civil war. The civil war forced my parents to abandon their properties in the northern group of provinces, and returned to their ancestral home in the southern region. The soil is sandy and porous – the region suffers from soil leaching and soil erosion due to torrential rainfall. Harvests from our farms after six months of toiling under the heat of the sun were scanty. We barely eked out a living. Life then was harsh, and the future was blink. In spite of the odds confronting me, I was determined to forge ahead no matter what.
As a child, I have always been fond of reading books. My mother would read to me every single night before I went to bed and sometimes throughout the day. It was the most exciting time of the day when she would open the cabinet, with what seemed to be hundreds of feet tall, of endless books to choose from. When she read to me, I wanted nothing more than to read just like her. Together, we worked on reading every chance we had. Eventually I got better at reading alone and could not put a book down. Instead of playing outside with my brothers during the Summer, I would stay inside in complete silence and just read. I remember going to the library with my mom on Saturdays, and staying the entire day. I looked forward to it each and every week.
One of my favorite childhood books is by Dr. Seuss; it is called “Are You my Mother?” Even before I learned to read myself, this book was being read to me. Thinking back to the early years of my life, I always remember someone reading to me. Every night in my house I would have one, if not both, of my parents read to me and I always looked forward to that. That is where my passion for reading began.
When I started first grade, I finally started to appreciate some of my mother’s work. At the beginning of the year, everyone had to take a reading level test, and I ranked the highest among my classmates. I flexed my reading skills before everyone. I volunteered to read during class. I read to my parents, to my grandparents, to my dog.
Staring at the front cover, I stick my tongue out and furrow my brow at the thought of reading a book in its entirety. This is how my mind worked as a small child. Reading was not my idea of fun nor was I even comprehending what I was looking at. My parents weren’t the best students, so I always felt like it was pointless to ask for help at home. However, I did learn to read and comprehend books after I had help from an inspirational teacher. She took extra time out of her evenings to teach a child that there is more than just the alphabet arranged across pages. In “How I Learned to Read and Write” by Frederick Douglass and “The Lonely, Good Company of Books” by Richard Rodriguez, they tell us their own stories about books and reading. Douglass
I keep annoying my dad until one day he finally had enough and told me he would teach me how to read so I could look the answer to my question by myself. The first book I ever pick up was name Nacho libro inicial de lectura, which translate to Nacho initial reading book. My dad told me when he was in school he learn with this book and I will also learn from it.
When I was younger, I didn’t like reading much at all. I always questioned my teachers what was the purpose of reading; I never got an answer from either teacher until I was in the seventh grade. Starting junior high school was different from elementary. In seventh grade, we were in our reading class for two hours a day. I asked the teachers why didn’t we have the privilege to stay in our other classes for two hours; I never received an answer from my teachers.
Reading and writing has never been my strong suit, but it has been something I’ve learned how to cope with. My grandma would try to read me books and I would try to stay focused on the words but it was always a struggle. If it was a book with pictures I could always follow just a little better but it was still hard for me to comprehend the message. Some of the books she would read to me when I was around 2 years old were Fraggle Rock by Jim Henson and Winnie the Pooh by A. A. Milne. I seemed to like Winnie the Pooh better than Fraggle Rock. Fraggle Rock is a book series that has been passed down from my mother and a thing I plan to read to my children and the next generation. When it had come time for me to start trying to read the books I never could, I could look at pictures and make stuff up from the pictures but that was it.
Although I can not remember my first book, or when I started to read, I do know that I have loved to read for most of my life. When I was younger every morning, whether it was a school day or the weekend, I would get up early get ready grab any book from the grand white bookshelf and then just plop on the brown leather couch and read until we had to leave. I remember scanning the big white book shelf filled with treasured stories. Some about The House that Jack Built, and about King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub.
I had seventh period math class the anticipation was building the entire day and as soon as I walked to class I felt nervous. I was feeling all sorts of emotions in one minute I did not know where to feel happy or sad. My teacher combined all my tests into one test I looked at the paper, but I could not see anything. I went blank for a moment, but then I remembered what my sister told me to block that voice out of my head. I just forgot that it was a test and started doing the answers when I got to the end, I thought to myself “that was
Reading was never something I fussed about growing up. As a child, I loved genres of realistic fiction. I was hooked on The New Adventures of Mary Kate and Ashley, Goosebumps, The Amazing Days of Abby Hayes, Judy Moody, and especially, Zoobooks and Highlights magazines. My mother was always ready to help build my reading and writing skills. She took me to the library constantly to feed my passion for books and knowledge. I loved exploring the shelfs, organizing the books, and filling up my library cart. I tried keeping a diary in elementary school to keep track of my outings with my parents and grandparents to museums, zoos, movies, and libraries. This flash of writing enthusiasm was spun from books I read in the 4th and 5th grade that were