Reflection About Reading

I sat in my fourth grade classroom staring at the bookshelf when suddenly I caught a glimpse of a dark blue book with a heroic being on the front. I lifted the heavy book and began reading Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief. As soon as I started I fell into this mythical world where gods, monsters, and heroes all existed. It was a rollercoaster through my emotions. The thrill. The suspense. The surprising new book had a grasp on me, to stop reading it would be difficult. I felt attached. As soon as I started, I finished. Devastated, my chase of this feeling has never stopped, no other book has given me the same fulfillment as Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief. As a young reader I would love to find the same joy and thrill (as I did back

For as long as I can remember on the first day of class no matter what class it seems that the teacher would always look upon the class and ask what our personal definition of reading and writing or why we were in the class and people always seem to give the same hesitant answer every year. I thought I knew why I in the class, I assumed it was like high school english as long as I stuck to the formula that was engraved in our minds that I would have no trouble making it though the course. However, after the first day of class i knew that this class probably wouldn't be that way. After being turned off to reading and writing from a young age, my definition of reading and writing were hindered from these experiences. Going from classrooms

As a child, I could not talk very well, but my mom helped me with reading. My mom read to me almost every night. I struggled with reading, but different people helped me. I never read to my self as a child, but my mom read to me. I remember this one book she read to me called Judy B. Jones by Barbara Park, and I fell in love with it so she went to store and bought me more Judy B. Jones books. Then finally she saw I liked Doctor Seuss and brought more books he wrote. My mom would always try to go out of her way to make sure I was reading on my grade level.

“I either go to television or turn on the radio in my car” (Whitefield 2011). Before I started this class, that is what I thought about when someone asked me “Do you keep up with the news?”. Most people do not get the opportunity to learn about what is going on around the world in their everyday lives and how they can help out. I feel that being in this class I got the chance to learn more about life and what is happening everywhere, not just insignificant matters such as who Kim Kardashian is now dating or why Kylie Jenner got more lip injections, I am learning about the important things. I am getting the chance to learn about how I can participate in the world to make big changes because of reading The New York Times, “Why Local Newspapers,” and “Freedom is Intended as a Challenge.”

Writing has always been something I dread. It’s weird because I love talking and telling stories, but the moment I have to write it all down on paper, I become frantic. It’s almost as if a horse race just begun in my mind, with hundreds of horses, or words, running through my mind, unable to place them in chronological order. Because I struggle to form satisfying sentence structure, it takes me hours, sometimes even days, to write one paper. It’s not that I think I’m a “bad writer,” I just get discouraged easily. Needless to say, I don’t think highly of my writing skills. When I was little I loved to both read and write. I read just about any book I could get my hands on, and my journal was my go to for my daily adventures. Although it’s

My reading process overall is very strong and went smoothly. As I read I annotated the pages and this helped me stay more focused and connected with the reading. Today it was hard for me after I went to the bathroom and came back to the reading because I disconnected from the reading and had to try and dive straight back in. I also put my cell phone far away from me when I read or do homework so that I will not be tempted to look at the phone instead of completing my reading.

Due to this class, I have been interested in why reading and writing is important. Consequently, I looked up interesting facts about reading and writing, which I would like to share. The literacy company stats “According to research school spend two million dollars on student who cannot read or write to help them to educate themselves” (The literacy company ). Pam Allyn said, “I believe reading can be compared to breathing in and writing can be compared to breathing out”.

“When I read a book, I put in all the imagination I can, so that it is almost like writing the book as well as reading it - or rather, it is like living it. It makes reading so much more exciting, but I don't suppose many people try to do it.”. People read all the time. They read for information, for escape, for entertainment, for instruction, for guidance. They read recipes and tweets and texts. They read newspapers, blogs, and Facebook replies. As I reflect on my reading memories, I realize they represent the journey I have traveled, leading me to my current academic path. I grow very uninterested in the article that I’m reading, once I lose interest it more of me looking at the words and not actually digesting what I’m reading.

My English teacher Mrs. Farley helped me become a fluent an avid reader. Her aid and guidance made my high school reading experiences great. She taught

As a young child, reading did not come easy not even the slightest. I remember being held back in first grade because my mother felt my reading was not up to par, boy was she correct. My older brother and younger sister were in the same boat as I. One after another we repeated the first grade in an attempt to strengthen the skill which is still challenging to this day.

Reading and writing was never one of my strong suits in life, and continues to be until today. I have tried to improve my skills over the years, and in the process of doing so, has led me to enjoy the art of this topic. Because of my teachers and the academic opportunities I've had in my life, I was able to find the passion I want to carry out into the world and in my future.

How I learned to read was with my mother who would read Dr. Seuss books. I would listen to her read the books and look at the pictures to help me understand what she was saying to me. We kept working and working, learning how to read before kindergarten. We would read about every night when she got off work to help me.

When I was little boy around the age of 4, I remember that everyday after morning announcements were over that my teacher at the time Mrs. Euwing would always have bellwork right before class started and I just have a vivid memory of not knowing how to form a proper sentence. I would just end up writing random letter in the alphabet hoping that I would form a sentence but sadly I knew that it was not possible because I could barely speak English yet I thought that I could write in my journal. My teacher started to notice that issue and that’s where my tutor came into play.

I have never despised reading; I just could not grasp the importance of reading and how it would beneficial to me and my growth. Not only were my teachers pressing this upon me but my parents as well, the passages that I had to read in class were not the problem. The dilemma occurred when the hours interfered with my after school free time and having “reading time” in school, I had no passion in becoming an author or journalist. Why must I sacrifice my free time to read a book that has nothing to do with my aspirations and goals in life? This was a reoccurring predicament that kept surfacing until the beginning of my fifth year in elementary school that would change my entire outlook on the matter.

It was my second grade year, I was only 7 years old, when I first found my hatred of anything that had to do with reading or writing. Every week my teacher would give us a lengthy list of vocabulary words that we had to memorize before our spelling test the following week. I would study for periods at a time trying to memorize this gruesome lists of words, that I could never commemorate. When it came down to the day of the test I would see all my classmates at ease, while I would panic trying to remember what I studied. When it finally became time to take the test, I heard the teacher call the word “island”, but I couldn’t concentrate. I was frustrated, I couldn’t think, the teacher would ask “is everyone ready to move on”, but I wouldn’t say anything, because I was too shy. After a couple of days I would get my score back, and wasn’t surprised when I found out that I had failed the test. Weekley this was recurring theme when I got my spelling test returned. Eventually, I accepted the fact that reading and writing was not for me.