The History Of My Lyrics

At the age of five, I learned of my struggle concerning the topic of writing. In kindergarten, this wasn't too much of a problem (because of the lack of writing-based assignments). Once I got into first grade, where the level of difficulty increased, I learned that I was not a good writer. When I say I wasn't a good writer, I do not only mean my writing quality, I also mean the physical act of writing. To get over this, I was required to practice writing at home, along with being given extra/specialized homework. With all of this help, I learned to be better at handling my writing

“I hate it, I hate it, I hate it” I used to tell my mom when she used to ask me to read or write. I remember at times when I had to go to school I used to cry and scream and just did not want to go. I used to get bad grades and couldn’t read and was not a fluent writer. I used to struggle and cry while I watched the other kids do it easily. While growing up reading and writing were my worst subjects and I used to hate them I struggled in them.

Prior to my development of routine introspection and, consequently, maturation, I wrote not to encapsulate my ever-growing discomfort towards life, but rather to gain praise and acknowledgement for my efforts in writing. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I sat on the floor of my kindergarten classroom criss-cross applesauce-style as my teacher, Mrs. Glickman, asked the class to write a short story and to provide an illustration to accompany it. With smudged and disorderly speckles of graphite sprawled across my paper, I managed to write a story in my signature chicken-scratch handwriting. The story was relatively simple, about a girl who had thought she was a hideous monster until she looked into a river reflection and realized she was beautiful. I even drew (or attempted to draw) a beautiful girl for the second part of the assignment. At the next school assembly, Mrs. Glickman granted me a sky-colored paper, reading “Award of Recognition: Kiana Lucin, for her creative writing and exemplary drawing skills.” From this point on, I prided myself in writing, and excelled

When I think about my childhood learning experiences, I can not help but focus on how much I struggled with reading and writing skills. I can remember back to second grade, knowing I was in the lowest reading group. I was not asked to complete the same work as my peers and had extra tutoring outside of school. That struggle continued as I went through grade school and into high school as I started to learn French. Again, I was at the bottom of the class and passing required tons of studying and extra help. Unfortunately, that struggle turned into a fear. To this day I panic at the thought of reading an unknown piece of literature aloud, and stress about my written work. Although it was and continues to be a part of my education, I still have negative associations

Just like with many aspects of myself many things helped in the contribution of my reading and writing skills. It was a bit difficult in the beginning learning to read and write in English since I learned to read and write in Spanish first. Both languages being pretty similar kind of screwed me up as a child so it took me longer to learn to read and write in English. Which in turn is why I was put in the ELD for many years. I did eventually test out of it before starting middle school, but that’s when my dislike for reading and writing started. Being in those programs they made us read and write even more than the normal students would. I would think now that all that work should have made me better at reading and writing but in turn it made me resent those very things and not any better at them. Another thing that made it worse was my family status, things in my home were complicated to say the least, but the way I was affected academically was because neither of my parents really cared for my education, so I was never made to read or write at home. Those two main things are where my dislike for both things originated. Since I never thought they were important other than to just get a grade in a class. All these things helped contribute to the type of reader and writer that I am today.

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.

As time went on, I didn’t write for fun as much as I did before. In middle school I had been in many activities and that didn’t give me much time to explore my

My writing has improved greatly over the years. Now, I am able to write much longer papers, my writing is more detailed, my writing is straight, I am able to write in different styles, and my letters aren't shaped weirdly anymore. All and all, my writing has improved a good amount. I still do not enjoy writing that much. I am really enjoying math and science right now. The writing that I do like, is writing about a subject that I choose with no guidelines. My past writing pieces that I have done, have been the personal narrative (in 6th grade), and the researched based writing project (also in 6th grade). Both of those projects I did not enjoy that much, because we worked on those two projects for a long time. Even thought I do not enjoy writing

I full heartedly blame my previous teachers for my current writing disability. I had just turned ten years old, we were about to begin our very first essays and it was on that day that my hatred of personal essays began. I didn’t find it difficult to write and I actually enjoyed the experience. We wrote brief, terrible stories both true and fictional that I’m truly sorry and grateful my teacher was able to read. Later, my writing began to improve and we learned to write in an argumentative and analytical way using facts and evidence and this is where I thrived. I loved the hours of research and the beauty of writing a well formulated thought. Then I noticed the lack of “I.” As my writing grew more bearable, the point of view changed and I took a note which my teachers confirmed. Eventually this idea grew until I couldn’t even read, much less write, a piece constructed in the first person.

Since it affected me; as a result, I stopped from writing, but later I realized something, and I started questioning myself about the reason that I have begun this journey; it was my love for writing.

English is a hard language to learn, for there are numerous elements of effective usage and writing. Many people, including me, struggle in writing because of a lack of knowledge. Since middle school, English was not a strong suit of mine. I struggled with the simplest of tasks often taking a considerably longer time to complete a task than the other students. Unmotivated teachers and a lack of interest resulted in remedial writing skills. To put it simply, I had little confidence in my writing and I dreaded taking the class because of the writing involved. In spite of my fears, I took the course and I was able to perfect and challenge my mediocre writing skills.

In the 5th grade I had a teacher that taught me the basis for where all my reading and writing skills come from today. I still use little hints and trick while writing that I encountered way back in the 5th grade. For instance, she taught me a trick to spell friend, she said friend ends in “end”. She also taught me one of the most basic rules of English; I before E except after C. The only thing I remember about my 6th grade English class is that I absolutely hated it. I do not know for sure whether it was the teacher or the repetitive structure of the assignments but my attitude towards English class took a turn for the worst. My 8th grade year is where I had to start getting serious about English again because I was going to be a big high school student the following year. This was the year where I started paying attention to the structure and techniques used while writing. This is also where my reading comprehension skills started to

I remember walking into the 8th grade hating the sound of “this essay will be written on…” and “turn to this page in your books..”. The only words to describe the pathos that those phrases gave to me were ear screeching, disgusting, nails on a chalkboard, the death of me, and lastly boring. The amount of times I cringed at those words could not be counted on two hands. Writing was boring and reading was a lame waste of time. They would not help me later in life, at least that is what I had convinced myself. A shift in my attitude seemed to occur when I stepped into Mr. Kelse Harris’ room at the end of the hallway where the air seemed a little lighter. My literature fire was re-lit and a flame ignited. It

imaginable. My abject hatred for writing blossomed in the early grades and carried over into high

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