Failure: Learning To Read For The First Time

Staring at the screen, the young author sighed in frustration, her fingers once again failing her as she was distracted by the din of the news on TV. Resigned, she shut it off and turned back to her blank document wishing for the ability to channel her emotions towards the high expectations placed before her, as well as the stigmas. She was growing tired of the starkness of the world around her.

One week passed since Anna took her Math test and she knew that her test was going to be handed back to her in class. Anna thought to herself that she mastered the test, since she had been study for weeks before the test. As she had sat down, the teacher started to hand back the test. When she got her test, her smile quickly feel, and anger starts to bubbled inside her. She got a C- on her test, and started to freak out.

Something was difficult for Allison though and seemed to strike her with fear. This was the dreaded grammar and how to correctly write the papers assigned! She started to defeat her fear

Ashley showed her mom her tests that requested in-depth explanations and serious critical thinking for answers. Frustration and fear crossed Ashley’s face as she struggled with adding details to her short answers and book summaries. Rosa told her teenager, “You need to show your teacher that you fully understand what you read. It helps to pretend like your teacher has never read the story, and it is your job to give your teacher specific details to show her what the reading focused on the

The beginning on my literacy journey was a difficult one. Partly because I am dyslexic, and partly because I was not motivated by traditional things. I did not care about reading or writing. I did not want to waste my time with it. Nothing about it interested me. I felt that I was already going to fail at it no matter what. So whats the point? If some lady told you that no matter what you are going to have a hard time reading and writing because thats “how God made you” would you really be motivated to read and write? She said in that it didn 't mean I was not smart, but that I just couldn 't read or write as good as everyone else. This lady was the school psychologist, who tested me for learning disabilities in the first grade. After hearing the verdict from her I had no intention of being good at anything that had to do with reading or writing. It was dead to me.

Throughout my years of schooling, I have become ambivalent about reading and writing. I have struggled in school to make myself enjoy writing. I didn’t mind reading as much, as long as it was to my interest. It has differed throughout the years I have been in school. Some years I have enjoyed both, reading and writing, and other years I have not liked either. Getting myself to enjoy reading and writing has been quite the adventure.

Last week we wrote a blog and one of the questions was “How did you learn to read and write?”  I found this question interesting because I never had really thought about the moment when I actually learned how to read and write. My mom was the first person to expose me to reading and writing. A popular tactic she did to make sure I was staying engaged was to read aloud stories and make me follow along with her. My mom would read me many different stories like Tarzan, Bambi, Aladdin, Peter Pan, Lion King, The Jungle Book, and Hercules. whatever I wanted to listen and follow along with, she would read with me. This really helped with my want to read. The books contained a lot of adventure, which made it easy as a kid to follow along with. I became to gain an imagination and then all of a sudden reading was easier.

“Is this your best work?” he started. “The topics don’t flow; you need to utilize transitions, for starters. Is this a teen directed novel? If so, increase the vocabulary level. This is something I would have read in third grade!” and on the criticism went. In the back of her mind, Violet thought that it must be constructive criticism, but the overwhelming thought was failure. With every sentence, every comment on the document, every highlighted phrase, Violet sunk a little lower in her chair. When he was finished, Violet mumbled a thank you and sped out the

"Taylor why can't you read this. This is so easy," I remember my younger sister Ashley saying to me. My path to literacy started in Kindergarten when I struggled to learn how to read. We had just moved from Kennewick, WA to Denver, CO a couple weeks before my first day of kindergarten. I had always been into playing school with my two sisters and pretending I was the nerd that knew everything when it came to reading and math. The real shock came to me when I started Kindergarten and everyone could read but me. I felt stupid. I would come home and try and do my reading homework with my mom and my three year old sister could read things that I couldn’t. I tried my absolute hardest at school and I just couldn't read. I could do everything else such as adding and subtracting and could even writing my name 26 times in a minute but it felt impossible for me to be able to read.

As I reflect on my childhood, the first memory of literacy I recall is when I was in kindergarten. I was approaching the end of the school year when my mother revealed to me my teacher was considering keeping me in kindergarten for another year. I was extremely upset and felt as if I had failed my first year of school. I felt that I was fresh out of the gate and already defective. My perception as a child was that the adults were already giving up on me. The teacher stated if I could learn the alphabet by the end of the school year I could continue ahead to the 1st grade. The conclusion of Kindergarten was vastly approaching. My mother constructed flash cards to help with my letter recognition. In doing so, she realized I could not see the letters. My mother promptly made an appointment for me to visit an Optometrist to evaluate me. Before I knew it, I was fitted with a big plastic pair of glasses. My world became much clearer after that. My mother was upset that my teacher did not recognize the problem, and that I never spoke up. Fortunately, I passed kindergarten with a lot of hard work from my parents, teacher, and I.

The next day, Lily handed in her homework and her teacher Ms. Brown called her in the middle of science class and asked her, “Why are your math answers all wrong?” Lily felt depressed, and her parents felt disappointed in her.

When I read Frederick Douglass’s story “Learning to read and write,” it reminded me of when I was learning how to read and write. I was very young so I didn’t know how to write or read. I remember when I was in the second grade that’s when I started to notice that I was going to enjoy writing even though I would have trouble with it especially on how to start it of.

Teaching normally starts with the smallest and easiest things and children learn to read and write longer and more complicated things as time goes by (Lyytinen, 2006). Learning to read is a gradual process. Today a child may learn from letters, s/he might learn to read syllables and words as well. Lyytinen (2006) goes on to say that, there are traditional methods of help which involve one to-one teaching with a teacher, doing some extra exercises and giving more time in written examinations. But in a country like Philippines, this is very difficult to achieve due to the high pupil teacher ratio - there are few teachers attending to huge numbers of pupils. When there are too many pupils in a classroom, it becomes difficult for the teacher to

Back when I was very little, before I could read my parents would read to me a story every night. I had a big bookshelf right next to my bed and my brothers would come to hear the book my dad was reading. Back when I was younger, my favorite book was the fox in socks. I loved all the rhymes and tongue twisters. It helped motivate me to learn to read. While I was learning I read it over and over again until I memorized it. I slowly started to read in my own. Now I can read by myself without sounding out it word in an sentence.

My first memory of reading or writing was being taught the alphabet at the daycare I attended in my childhood. I was in the “butterfly room” which was for children going into kindergarten the following year. I have a similar memory of my mother teaching me to write my name when I was around that same age. At some point in the years following I learned to read on my own and became more proficient in writing.