The afternoon had just set and aureate rays of lights were peeking onto my plaid printed arm chair through the countless stained glass windows that consumed the room of my new house. I had finally decided to let my legs ease on the ottoman just in front of me after a long day of classes that it seemed inevitable I would fail. My brain screamed of exhaustion, but my eyes caught hold of the Purple Hibiscus book falling lifelessly out of my backpack across the room. I figured now would be a better time than ever to begin my english reading, so naturally, I stood and hobbled over to the book, took it by my two hands, and in the same motion sat swiftly back down into the armchair. The sides of the chair squeezed me adequately and the excitement …show more content…
For a while I just sat there enjoying the relaxation and relief I felt, the comfort. However suddenly my eyes fell upon a sentence that made me nervous. I reread it countless times to be sure I had read it correctly and each time like a broken record I read it back the same. My heart sunk into the seams of my armchair and I could feel each lung quivering as my chest closed up slowly. Routinely, I reread once more, “I noticed the ceiling first, how low it was,” I peered up looking at my ceiling, it was not very high like my old house and to be frank, I had not even noticed or put ceiling height into consideration when moving here (Adichie 113). I continued reading, “it was so unlike home, where the high ceilings gave our rooms an airy stillness” (113). The word “home” rung in my ears. The thought of a home inundated my mind and clogged my throat with tightness. Where was home for …show more content…
This was my first move out of 14 and my mom, dad, and I all stayed with my aunt for a bit until we could find the perfect house, and eventually we did. So, for as long as I can remember, this perfect house was my home. At the end of my street was a small cul de sac where several neighbors my age lived. After school, laughter resonated through the air as all of us tight knit kids of Willowbrook Farm Road scootered up and down the street until the tiredness of our scrawny legs finally became too much to bare, and we made our way in for the night to eat mac and cheese and share the juiciest gossip first grade had to offer. I thought these days could last forever, that the darkness of the night was only just an excuse for the next brilliant day to begin, and so I would walk back to my perfect house and wake up the next morning negligently, still a careless child. From those days, I have tried to forget many things so far in my life. For example when my fish of 7 years died, or when my dad was first diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Though he survived, the glorious lifestyle living in a perfect 2,135 square foot house soon came to an abrupt halt. Before my eyes, my mom, dad, and I downsized to a small beach house about 1/6th the size of our previous home, but nonetheless it was still in the same town so I remained able to maintain my friendships without too much change. Though I knew subconsciously the
My achievement of becoming literate in both English and Spanish, after overcoming a myriad of obstacles distinguishes my literacy history. Writing was one of the things I didn’t like to do as a child. I always thought writing was a waste of time and that I wasn’t going to need it in life. Even though I didn’t invest much time writing, I was one of the best writers in all my classes, probably because I was very dedicated in the other subjects and I loved reading adventure books. I learned how to read and write by the age of four, since in my native country “the Dominican Republic”, kids are enrolled in school at the age of three; usually parents start their child’s education at home before that age.
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.
My experiences as a writer have been both very engrossing and strenuous. I have learned a great quantity on both reading and writing, though, I continue to struggle on things that I have learned by this time, making the same mistakes that I do not even realize. Sometimes things are not so easy to understand when reading information, especially if the wording of an article is difficult for example. I love the idea of learning new things everyday. These past years as a writer have been very interesting, and I have learned and grasped many concepts I have been taught along the way.
My literacy journey had begun earlier than most kids, according to my mother. I started reading in kindergarten, with help with the BOB books and the PBS show Between the Lions. I don’t know when I had started writing exactly, but I remember clearly writing short stories about my cat Stormy in 3rd grade. At that time we had to write weekly short stories, and I only ever wrote about my cat. In 4th grade, I had started exploring writing more; I would write plays for me and my friends to practice during recess. Most of them, I’m happy to say, were actually educational, so my teacher had even let my friends and I perform one about early-American settlers in front of our whole class.
Having to write about my own literacy is hard to do, first of all it’s hard to recall things that happened when you were a child let alone when I started to read and write, I remember going to school playing, the teacher reading to us, making vowel sounds and learning to write my name; I recall the teacher giving out the spelling list and taking it home to practice before Friday’s test, I would go to school hoping and praying that I would not misspell any words; as usual I missed a couple of words and I knew what that meant.
Diving into past memories is something I am never found of. There is a lot of pain hidden behind some of my past experiences, but also a lot of triumph. It is always interesting to force yourself to retrieve some of those hidden memories. Sometimes the things you remember can be very surprising. Things that seemed long forgotten, can abruptly come back in a flash. The farthest memory I can recall about my own literacy experience is when I began first grade. At this stage, I remember feeling very confused about the whole purpose of going to school. I felt as if I was the only one not being able to keep up with the other children. I didn’t know what was cool, how to make friends, or even know how to play board games like “Candyland.” I was just not exposed to certain things that the other children in my class were aware of prior to beginning first grade. Most of all, I did not like learning. I liked doing things
My first main literacy who be my relationship with God, oh how I need him every day, I could write endlessly about this one, I feel strongly about my connection with the father and it makes me happy to even know the enjoy it has bought into my life .Oh how my soul rejoices every time I think about how much I need him every day he is the center of my peace and I could not start my day without him. He knows my name he is definitely my main literacy every day. The next main literacy would be my job and which I need that in order to live in this world and be a productive citizen in this society. To have money to sustain my lifestyle. My final literacy would be my whole family. They mean the world to me, there is nothing more important to me than
In all honesty, I don't remember a lot about becoming literate. I didn't have a special moment or time when I knew that reading or writing going to take me somewhere. According to my mom she started to read to me when I was one, so there wasn't anything that could've excelled me much farther before going into kindergarten. One of the requirements in elementary school was to read every night which I believe was an important factor of me improving my literacy. Reading and writing used to me excite me because I would immerse myself into a book or write a whole new universe on a page. I made reading and writing something personal to me. I now realize that every book and every piece of writing can be worthwhile in one way or another.
I was in your Rennaissance English class at Horn from 2001- 2004. I attended Stanford University for undergrad before moving to Washington, DC where I taught middle school math. After I left the classroom, I was a coach of first-year math teachers and then began coaching school principals on instructional leadership. This summer I moved to Cambridge, MA where I'm the Chief of Staff for the Achievement
I personally think that in personal narrative a literacy work has more of an impact. I believe this because it can convey more details than a movie based on the literacy work. Both I believe are good ways to portray the sense of time but in different ways. In a movie you see more of how the directors see things instead of being able to imagine it
My reading and writing history began recently.Since i raised in different country, i studied simple English grammar in intermediate and high school not like what students in U.S do. Our teachers didn’t consider it as significant as our native language because all people in the country speak the same native language. Anyway, my english history began after I had moved to U.S for three years ago. I started with non credit ESL classes thereafter I took Reading 71 , Reading 81 , and English 91 at Highline community college. At South Seattle Community College, I took English 96 last winter, and now I’m taking English 99/101. In all of those classes, I enjoyed writing essays and doing peer editing.I was always eager to learn new writing
My earliest experience with reading and writing were traumatizing especially when I was in the first grade. I still recall the experience I went through to this day. It made me really hate myself because the other kids were making fun of me.
Throughout all of my years of schooling I have had difficulties with my learning. Ever since I was young I had trouble reading and sometimes was slow to learn. When I was in first grade, my teacher noticed that I was learning at a slower pace and was having trouble keeping up with the material. She mentioned something to my reading teacher and they made a decision that I should take a test to measure my academic learning level . Once my results came back they decided to put me on an IEP and in a class to help me better my reading skills. I took that class throughout elementary school, continued into middle school, and then on to high school. This experience helped me learn how to work hard to try to prove to both myself and others that this does not limit my intelligence.
At first, I didn’t think this kind of thing would be an issue. Fueled by confidence and charisma; my younger self ( at this point a first-grader) headed on his way to Kansas and further his education. Coming from Illinois, I had thought this transition would not change much from the schooling that I had become accustomed to. I left Illinois on a Friday and started school here on Monday (didn’t even get to miss school). Still with confidence, I strode into my classroom diligently and prepared for a new experience in this new environment.
In this essay, I will talk about my reading life when I was younger and how I am now. When I was a young kid my parents would read to me. When I was in grade school they told me that education can go farther than other stuff. Finally, when I have gotten older I have started to read less and less because I’m not very good at writing and reading.