Compare And Contrast Reading And Reading

To this day many people find reading and writing to be easy or maybe even fun. I on the other hand find writing to be more challenging than reading. It never came as easy like math did. I used to walk into my math class, sit down and literally learn everything in seconds but english was a whole different story. Every time, walking into english class I 'd get this weird sensation as if I 'm walking straight into failure. For me, I always pictured the classroom covered with my pervious essays with a huge F on it, the walls dark red, fog flowing a few feet above the ground, and my chair distanced from everyone else as if I don 't fit in. After the years I 've learned its not english that I hate, Its the fact that I 've never put the time and

I would actually spend hours reading and writing for fun, but it never grabbed my attention. My family even tried helping me improve my skills. I remember all the deals and bets that my family made to help. Their was this one time where my dad offered my family “ for every 30 minutes that you read, I will give you a dollar ”. At the time I was roughly 8 years old. Getting paid just for reading? Who wouldn 't want to take advantage of it. The memory of laying on the living room floor, with an alarm clock set for every 30 minutes, and my brothers and sisters spread out all across the floor with me. I would always wrap my self in a blanket like a burrito, under the living room table, on the old green carpet that had some weird flower design was how I spent my time reading. Focusing more on the clock instead of what I was reading was how it always ended. Never knowing or understanding what I read made that reading pointless but getting that dollar made me wanna read a bit more. My sister would usually get upset because after we are all done reading she would ask me “what did you read?” Never understanding what I read, I would always lie and use my imagination to come up with a

Knowing that she was gonna massacre my paper with her red pen for all the errors, misspelled words, and run on sentences. Sometime I would feel like my teacher hates me from all the red marks after she revised my paper. After seeing all the red marks I just gave up. My teacher would offer me help after school but being tied up in sports and homework it was almost impossible to take the opportunity. Regretting for not taking advantage of the opportunities given to me and not taking reading and writing more seriously really affected me. To this day the thought of the word essay reminds me laying down in my room on my black carpet, my computer open with open office open, and a puzzled look imprinted on my face not knowing where or how to start. Reading the agenda over and over trying to get a better understanding of what needs to be