Literacy Narrative

In today’s society reading is essential to function. Everywhere people turn they are required to read directions, labels, books, what’s going on in the news, or mandatory rules they need to follow. Just think about if a majority of the world couldn’t read how chaotic society would be.

Typically, people think of reading when they see a novel or a short story, but I think of reading when I’m out on the baseball field. When I hear the word “reading”, unlike most people, I think of a green grassy baseball diamond at night, with the lights lighting it up, filled with fans in the stands. Believe it or not, I read all the time on the field. I read the ball coming off the bat when I’m playing in the field. When I hear the “ding” of the metal bat and hard, rubber ball colliding, I know that there is a chance I could make a great play. I can see the ball getting bigger and bigger as in approaches me. I read the ball coming out of the pitcher’s hand,

It was a hot, searing day as the sun beat down on my skin. The lush green palm trees provided me shade as I sat and observed my surroundings. Children, barefoot and dirty, wearing tattered and stained clothes were running around laughing and playing. Their joyous giggles put a smile on my face and warmed my heart as I watched them.

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.

When I first took a look at my first assignment for English Composition I – Write a Literacy Narrative. The first thought it came to mind was “ESL” (English as of Second Language). I started to reminisce about my first year as a freshman in High School. It was the fall of 1985; I just had arrived from Colombia as an exchange student. On the first day of School, I reported to the front office, still not knowing what to say or what to do. I was completely lost and scared; the nice lady at the desk looked at me with a smile and started to talk. I did not understand a single word of what she was saying at that time, except “Hello”. After a few minutes of silence and staring at each other, I gave her a piece of paper that my

As a girl growing up around a group of bikers, boys and two parents who listened to eighties hair bands and metal, you wouldn’t think that I read or was read to frequently before starting school. I pursued in reading quite often, actually. When I finally started school, I had the tendency of keeping to myself and staying quiet. There never have been very many friends in the picture of my life. I learned at a young age that there often are going to be cliques, even when you’re an eight year old in girl scouts. I stood out in more ways than one, but for now I’m only going to elucidate why reading is so salient to me.

I remember the first day I walked into my kindergarten class, I clenched my mother’s hand with all my might to prevent her from letting go. The kids around me, whom I supposed were my classmates, had long let go of their mother’s had and were playing together, and even as a five year old, at that point I felt like an outsider. I pleaded my mom to not leave but my attempts failed as I found myself alone yet surrounded by complete strangers. As I stood in the center of the room while pushing back my tears and eyeing my mother make her way out the door, I heard the teacher call my name. I timidly walked towards the spot on the yellow carpet she was signaling at for me to sit on. I heard Mrs. Ross’s soothing voice but no matter how much I concentrated

Can you remember what your teacher taught you back in kindergarten? Chances are she was introducing you to the basics of reading and writing. Literacy is the ability to read and write, and because I did not think I was very good at either of the two, it had never been my favorite thing to do. It wasn’t until my senior year of high school that I had an English class that I actually enjoyed. My teacher was Ms. Holly Eubanks. The past classes had boasted about how good of a teacher Ms. Eubanks was and how, even though she may take a while to grade your papers, she was always trying to help you improve in every possible way she could. On the first day

My literacy narrative focused on an event, which changed my perspective towards reading. This event revolved around my life and later resulted in a better version of myself. It was about a competition for which I appeared during my freshman year in high school. There were some key points, which I noticed while working on my literacy narrative. Throughout my work, I enjoyed the ways of employing the five authentic skills that enriched my narrative with not just my words, but also with my emotions that are associated to it.

My sophomore year at Central High School did not start out the best. I was recovering from an awful grade point average, awful for me at least, I was sitting the bench in a sport that I had lost interest in, and overall I just did not enjoy school anymore. I personally did not see the point in coming to school at all. It took some time, but I finally started to get my grades up, my season had ended for football, and I knew I was not going back. After everything was starting to go my way I started thinking, “What am I going to do next?”

I have been working with the Coweta County School System since August of 2000. I began as a paraprofessional working with students with Autism through the Emory Autism Program. I enjoyed working with special needs students so much that I entered the TAPP program to obtain my teaching certificate. I began working at East Coweta Middle School in the fall of 2002 and am still currently working there as an interrelated special education teacher. I have taught resource, collaborative, and co-teach classes. I have even had one year where I worked one-on-one with a student that required specialized instruction.

I am sitting at my work desk reading an autobiography called the Blood of the Lambs, and I ponder about the amount of time having passed since I have sat down to a nice personal evening with a book. Upon reflection, I realize that the path I took to learning to read wasn’t an easy one and involved time, effort, and hard work.

This week, my literacy narrative actually wasn't that hard to write. Consider, that I recieve quite a few helps from peer review during class. I found the peer reviews to be really helpful. Although I don't really remember what we discussed in class. But having the peer review questions as a references was a really big help. Therefore, I understand what I needed to strengthen my paper on. So, during the writing process, I know what to focus on. Still, it was really difficult coming up with ways of how to connect the story together, making then flow nicely. Personally, I am well aware that the shift of my story is too fast, but I has no ideas of how to connect them together. Since, I hardly write in first person I kind of has no clude on how

The book is old. The cover worn and tattered. The binding coming undone and several papers falling, or threatening to as the young hand flips though them. Pages centuries old. The writing ancient and almost indistinguishable. Written in a language just as old. Just as ancient. But they do not matter. The pages escaping from the binding hold no meaning anymore. They haven't held a meaning in many years.

Apart from anything that was colorful or popped-up, I was disinterested with reading from a young age. I loved having my parents read to me, but had little desire to take the initiative myself. To this day I can still remember the first book my dad ever read to me, Go Dog Go. Those cardboard-like pages of dogs and the soothing nursery rhyme verses hooked me. The combination of the drawings and hearing my dad’s voice stimulated my cognitive process and allowed me to make personal connections with the text. Despite only being a curious listener this memorable story allowed me recognize the syntax of literature. Whether I knew it or not this was my first encounter with literature.