Literacy Narrative
Literacy, rhetoric, and annotating have all been a part of my life since a
very young age. Growing up, my parents or people around me have always
corrected the way I speak into it being the right one. They placed books in front of me since I was
born, but of course they read to me until I could read to them. Starting from
early in my years in elementary school we were taught to edit and revise our
own work. We always we taught to put our own “voice” into what we write. All of
these aspects that were a part of my life from a young age has had a very positive
affect on the way I can execute those ‘simple’ things now. Childhood should be
the happiest time of a kid’s life. For me; I can say it was, I was fearless.
Whether it be the school I attended or where I grew up or the way I was raised
or maybe the confidence my parents instilled in me, I do not know. But I am
grateful for many small details that stick with me. Although I may have loved
reading as kid, these days English as a subject, epically reading comprehension
now is a struggle for me. With that being said, it really makes me appreciate
the happy memories of a time where I truly loved reading and could appreciate
that bond I shared in doing so, with my parents.
Ever since I was a baby, there are
vivid memories I still reminisce, cuddled in my bed as a kid. I remember, lying
in bed with my father looking down at the end of the bed to see our wiggling
toes. As we read back and forth to each other as he helps me with the words I didn’t
know. These days, the time I spent as a child, especially being able to
remember being read too, and being taught to read by my father is priceless to
me. Everything from the strong scent of his cologne, to his deep but excited
voice I remember, but now see and appreciate from a far as he interacts with
any little kid. He is and always has been a great business man. Always on the
go. Wakes up before the sun and often home late if at all. Even since I was a
kid my dad always went out of town on business. Being able to think about the
small, but amazing things I do remember about him when he was around to spend
time with me, mean all the more to me now.
Dr. Seuss is what my parents heavily
introduced to me when I first began to read. It was and always has been
popular. From then I recall the books that consisted of small words, but
pictures of things as well. Most book page pictures, to plots, and even phrases
from those stories I still remember to this day. I sometimes think to myself
that could have been a factor in why I was able to read so well starting at a
young age. Possibly, rhyming could have put more words in front of my face that
must have built a better mind capacity to more alike words, faster. Or the fact
that I was great at relating any picture to any word. Green Eggs and Ham could
often be found before my eyes. My parents didn’t wait long to teach me to read,
but when they did it didn’t take much more than them sitting back and watching
my development before their eyes. All I can hope is that they were able to
appreciate and take credit for themselves. I turned out to be quite the reader
from then on. That being said, I was able to read chapter books by the time I
touched foot into my first half-day kindergarten class. My teacher was
impressed, and I was very proud. I can even remember an instance where my
mother, teacher, and I were all sitting in the classroom after hours. I remember
showing her how well I could read, I remember my mom, and sitting back and
watching me excel at something she taught me, both of us proud as ever. By that
time The Magic Tree-house was my new cup of tea. I could truck on through one of
those books in anywhere from three short days, to just two! At that time,
including all the way through elementary school, I enjoyed reading most times
that the task of it was in front of me.
Back then my take on reading was very different than it is now. I used to
read a few grade levels above my own, rather now I wish I could take English
classes below my own skill level. No matter the content of the class or book
now a days I particularly cannot spark interest, let alone skill in the
subject. What once felt accustomed to me is now in the past. What I once
excelled in, I now feel like I am constantly struggling with. Looking back on
this, it’s hard for me not to ask the question of "what happened."
Often I think, but mostly appreciate the positive affect my parents had on the experiences
in my childhood. Anywhere from the way they were able to make me excited about
reading, the influence they had on my mellow behavior and the way I was raised
to talk and speak correctly. Sometimes I concur that my parent having less and
less of an influence on what I was learning as the years went on, made me less interested.
Going into middle school one could agree that it would be easy to not want to
read when all I ever had to read was history or English textbooks anymore.
Starting from a very young age, my parents have always given me what I need
and more. As a child, they knew, and cared enough to put time and energy into
me, and a skill that would eventually do me very well once I was grown. I had a
very proud, big brother to show me each and every rope of life. He took pride
in teaching me everything he learned. Or the few things he knew. Anything and everything from the literacy I the
way I speak, to the way I was always taught to correct myself. And or my mistakes.
I was always taught to pick myself up, try again and make it better. I always will cherish the sweetest memories
with my parents and brother, reading truck books I SPY and what not. One big thing I have
learned is that you have to do what you’re passionate about, because a little
love and passion towards something can take you a long ways. Weather it being
there has been a lack of that in my life recently in this subject, or the love I
was able to share over reading as a child being the difference on my stance
then and now, I’m not sure I know. Although I am okay with not knowing, I am
even more okay with the way that I look back at the things I remember, and play
through each vivid detail in my head with a smile on my face every time.
Nothing can replace those memories with family. Having a big brother and a
loving family was one of the biggest blessings I could have had growing up. And
it is something I can appreciate even now, and something I will cherish
forever.
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