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 on my own.
Starting from early in my years in elementary school we were taught to edit and
revise our own work. We always were taught to put our own “voice” into what we
wrote. 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. One of the big factors that lead to that could have been
the fact that I have always have had an amazing older brother. He has always
made a point to keep me safe and proudly would teach me things he knew, and we
would play together. 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 stuck with me. Although
I may have loved reading as kid, these days English as a subject, especially
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.
Even since I was a
baby, there are vivid memories I still reminisce, cuddled in my bed as a kid.
My decorated raggedy Ann and Andy sheets and pillows. I remember, lying in bed
with my father looking down at the end of the bed to see our wiggling toes, the
cuddly warmth we shared just lying and reading together is enough to fill my
heart, to this day. As we read back and forth to each other and he helped me with
the words I didn’t know. These days, the time I spent as a child, especially
being able to remember being read to, 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. Ever
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 with her soft, on looking eyes and her corky unique self, she
could then just sit back and watch 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, whereas 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 needed
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. From a young age they pushed me to read more and in the
end, only has benefited me. 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. Even someone who now hates reading may have a
time in their life where the memories they shared in doing so can top everything
else. 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. Whether 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.
