Learning To Read And Write A Short Story

As the days went by, not having anyone to help me with my reading made me feel like my world had ended. I felt like I was never going to be able to get through grade school. I felt hopeless. When I was about nine years old, knowing what I learned in school as well as what my sister had taught me I began to read by myself. I knew that I would have to learn some how. At that point I would bring books home from school and try to read them. It was a challenge for me but I didn’t give up. While I was reading out loud to myself at home one day, I remember my little brother coming up to me and asked “what are you doing?” I replied “reading a story, would you like me to read to you?” Of course he being four at the time said “yes”. From that day on, I read a story to him everyday. He was always excited to see me when I came home from school. I read to him every day until he started school. When I was finish reading him a book I would go and read more.

Going through life we learn and grow differently in literacy. As a young child, I started off my reading by looking at pictures and then grew into more difficult literacy. Trying to comprehend how much reading would impact my life in the future when I was little, was something I never understood. Being in high school now, I have learned how much reading and writing would impact me and how many opportunities it could provide for me. Since I was that child who could have cared less about my literacy, I soon became the child that got so worked up if I wasn’t as superb as others in reading. Throughout my childhood, my literacy has had its ups and downs, but now being in high school I have worked hard in my literacy which has allowed me to take

My mother taught me how to read at a young age. She read to me before I could read which helped me learn new words and develop a basic understanding of literature at an early age. When it came time for me to attend elementary school, I remember heading to the library quite often. Books were organized based on what was thought to be the appropriate reading material for that grade level. I often found myself wandering down the isles with the older kids. I’m so grateful my mother encouraged reading as much as she did. If she hadn’t, it’s very possible I could have struggled with reading. If this were true, I wouldn’t have learned as much as I did, or had the desire to read, which is very important in order to become as advanced in literature as possible.

Literacy, whether it is reading, writing, or listening, can mean many different things to people. Each form can impact everyone immensely. In 2016 I had a literacy encounter that made a lasting impact on me. That summer I began babysitting John, a precious five-year-old boy, for the sole purpose of building up my bank account. Since both of John’s parents worked long hours at the hospital, John did not get to spend as much quality time with them as he or they would have liked. I felt badly for John, so I made it my goal that the time I spent with him would be meaningful and memorable.

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.

Memories of reading Junie B. Jones and learning her address flooded Katelyn’s memory as she talked about her journey of becoming a reader and writer. She recalled times that her mother read stories from the Precious Moments Bible. These memories she recalled were things that took place routinely. As these events consistently took place, they shaped her literacy development and writing process. The times that she read for accelerated reader points for school also demonstrate how she saw the importance of being able to read. Katelyn also recalled memories of tracing letters on the wide ruled kindergarten sheets and the task of knowing how to write in cursive being stressed in elementary school. These events show the beginning stages of writing.

It is 6am on Saturday morning, and you roll out of bed before everyone else, hoping to get a jump start on the day, before the chaos of life rings the opening bell. You can smell the coffee as it begins to percolate through the filter. You sit down at your computer and take a deep breath, trying to find the frame of mind to get this work completed, when suddenly you are awoken 2 hours later by your son jumping on your lap, hysterically ringing the aforementioned bell. Just like every other time before, you are late out of the starting gate. Stumbling trying to find your footing, desperately trying to gain that stride. Eventually you hit that stride, the words you are trying to find flow through your fingertips like water rushing out of the great Mississippi. It has not always been this easy oh how you wish it were. Ultimately, my literacy journey albeit fairly uneventful, shaped and molded me into the person I am today.

Literacy, the ability to read, write, and understand a language, is an extremely important part of modern society. It’s second nature for us now to read street signs as we drive past, food labels in the grocery store, etc. Not to mention the ability to enjoy novels. Being illiterate means that you can’t do any of that. You probably wouldn’t even know how your name is spelled or what it even looks like. Literacy (or lack of) has greatly affected an abundance of people’s lives throughout history. Three authors-Sandra Cisneros, Frederick Douglass, and Sherman Alexie- share their backgrounds, the influence that literacy has had on their lives, and the challenges that they faced to get to where they are. The similarities and differences

Some time after the arrival of my first child, I thumbed through my favorite book from my childhood. As I began reading the book I discovered the story was unfamiliar. Gradually, it occurred to me my mother had made up the majority of the words when she read to me. My mother never hid that she was functionally illiterate from people, as I was tasked often with the duty of reading information aloud to her. However, on that day, holding that book, at that moment, it finally occurred to me that my illiterate mother had actually taught me to read. She couldn't tell me what all the words said, but she instilled the language in my young mind, and encouraged my fondness of literature. I vowed on that day, to be the last martyr of educational failure,

Written commcation has always been difficult for me. I have always struggled with reading and write, spelling was the worst. I have a mild learning disability, which made writing hard even though I enjoyed writing. Since I was young, I have been embarrassed to read out loud or to have someone look at something I wrote, not because I thought it wasn’t good, but because I knew there were misspelled words everywhere. Growing up I was always placed into lower level reading classes and had to take after school classes to help me improve. I didn’t like reading because of this reason, so I never picked up a book and read it though until I was in 5th grade. The very first book I ever read was “Because of Winn-Dixie.” My friend at the time knew I struggled with words and wanted to help.

Growing up, I was always at higher reading levels than my classmates, and was able to write very well. When it came to basic literacy, I was golden. But I had to understand a higher level of literacy, something that would change my life forever. I had a challenge to face that no one else my age had to deal with. Because of the medical condition I was born with, I had to understand literacy on an entirely different level. I had been born with insulin resistance and the doctors were always explaining what this meant, and I had to understand

Micheal, I agree with you on being able to tell a story. I learned in my first English class with Mrs. Burlenson, that writing is like painting picture where your reader can imagine what you are trying to say. Since that class I always try to paint that picture where the reader can read it and be able to visualize what was

You might have read stories about one’s literacy, when they started to learn reading and writing, what challenges did they face, what opportunities they had, and their extraordinary stories to success. Bill Gates as an example, he had this family as a bridge towards his success. His journey to literacy started when his family sent him to a private school; one of those only schools of the time that had computers. His family fully supported him that made him who is today. Moreover, he was sent to the college where they had computers. He had the privileges of being financially supported, being born at the right time and place, and having opportunities. However, my story to literacy is completely different. I was born in Afghanistan, but when I was only one year old, we were immigrated to Pakistan because of civil war. There was no education for immigrants in Pakistan’s public schools. Therefore, groups of immigrants, like us, came up with the idea to open a school for the children; with no professional teachers, no professional environment, and no resources. I learned reading and writing from a group of people or parents struggling and trying to teach their future generations literacy, trying to teach us survive. I learned the most not from the books but from their own personal life experiences. I studied elementary school in Pakistan, secondary and high school in Afghanistan; yet another country

The terror, which would not end for another twenty-eight years – if it ever did end – began, so far as I know or can tell, with a boat made from a sheet of newspaper floating down a gutter swollen with rain.

The first time I tried to write a story I was in grade school. It was for a seventh or eighth grade assignment. It was about a puppy who got lost and was stranded. He was found by a police dog who brought him back to his home and made sure he stayed safe. I still have the story at my house. I wrote a different short story in my eighth grade year that was very dramatic. I wrote about a girl who was extremely young that got pregnant, and ran away from home so she could keep the baby. It told about how she didn’t believe she got pregnant and how she felt. It was SUPER dramatic in how the girl reacted and the punishment she received from her mother at the end was really slack and unrealistic. I didn’t understand what I was writing about at the time and didn’t understand the seriousness involved. If I wrote the same story now, you wouldn’t be able to tell it was the same one, besides the basic outline. The punishment would be more severe and the way the girl reacted would be different. I would also change her age so she was in the upper grades of high school, not the lower.(I think I made the girl thirteen to fifteen years old.)