Creative Writing: Go, Dog Go ! By P. D. Eastman

I was not always a fan of reading though. I blame this on the type of school teachers I have in my secondary level education. It was not until I got to community college where I began an appreciation for both reading and writing. The first book that grabbed me was The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, which is Walls’ memoir that focused on the events of growing up with her family that, at times, caused her to be homeless--among other harsh situations.

Finally with all that went on I learned how to read like Ozzie knew how to fly, so we both learned how to do something that we both didn't know how to before. Unlike Ozzie who was lazy but wise, I was wise but not lazy. By the time my mother had read it ten times over I knew how to read it, but I just wanted to be lazy and have my mother read it instead. Because it is much more fun when someone else reads you a book. Another thing I discovered at an early age about the book is that animals could not talk just neigh, bark, baa, quack and oink, so reading can teach you two things about fantasy and

Most of what I can remember from my childhood is being read to by my mom and her teaching me how to read, alongside my older sister. During the day all that I wanted to do was have my mom read to me, so she would. And every night before I went to bed she would let me pick one book for her to read to me. It was my favorite part of everyday. It wasn’t just at home that people would read to me, my grandma would too whenever we went to her house. She had this book full of short stories that always had a good lesson at the end. I loved hearing my grandma’s soothing voice right before I fell asleep. My favorite book was “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish” by Dr. Seuss. Since my mom read it to me at least once everyday, I began to memorize it. I wasn’t actually reading the words on the page, I just knew the story so well that I could recite it.

My beginnings as a reader and a writer were most difficult to say the least. When I was almost five years old, I was up-rooted from my home during the middle of my pre-kindergarten year. My family and I moved halfway across the country so that my dad could take a well paying job that would financially support our family. Sadly, this majorly halted my learning abilities. As a little girl in a brand new school, surrounded by brand new people, I was scared. I didn’t know how to introduce myself, let alone speak with teachers that I had never met before.

During adolescence, I began reading and writing through a fundamental learning program called, "Hooked on Phonics." This program consisted of long hours spent reading short novels and writing

During adolescence, I began reading and writing through a fundamental learning program called, "Hooked on Phonics." This program consisted of long hours spent reading short novels and writing

My father left at the age of three leaving me in the capable hands of my mother. This is where my life began. I don’t reminisce my father, the only memory I have of both my parents was relationship of abuse. My mother worked effortlessly making life survivable. Growing up in Greenwich, Connecticut wasn’t easy. I was girdled by opulent people and didn’t have the same opportunities as my peers around me did. As grew up, my only escape from reality has always been reading. Books have shaped my life inexplicable. I’ve traveled and experienced life through a vast variety of characters. From reading The Giving Tree by Shel Sliverstien to How to Kill a Mocking Bird By Harper Lee and developing the knowledge to read classical literacy like Emily Bronte

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.

Kevin might do was to get Cromwell and become a dog trainer. Kevin will have Cromwell trained to jump fences jump though rings etc. Kevin is way too young for that kind of stuff I know because Kevin still needs to ask his parents on what to do. Kevin has a plan to ask his friends to help him in training Cromwell. Each of his friends will have a specific course chosen by themselves to see how much Cromwell has learned and what it will learn. The first thing Cromwell will learn is jumping through rings Kevin is holding a ring as Cromwell runs then jumps through it. The first try Cromwell was distracted by a squirrel and was about to chase it but one of Kevin's friends grabbed it just in time.

My earliest memory of learning how to read was when I was about four or five years old. My siblings were mainly the ones who taught me to read before I even entered elementary school. By the time I did start attending school I was reasonably literate. One vivid memory I have that always comes to mind when I think of how I started reading was of my sister teaching me. We had these square little red Dora the Explorer books that were only 4 pages. My sister would have me read them out loud and waited patiently as I tried to figure the words out and get the pronunciation right. She made sure I was fluent in my reading abilities for that day before I could go play.

Last week we wrote a blog and one of the questions was “How did you learn to read and write?”  I found this question interesting because I never had really thought about the moment when I actually learned how to read and write. My mom was the first person to expose me to reading and writing. A popular tactic she did to make sure I was staying engaged was to read aloud stories and make me follow along with her. My mom would read me many different stories like Tarzan, Bambi, Aladdin, Peter Pan, Lion King, The Jungle Book, and Hercules. whatever I wanted to listen and follow along with, she would read with me. This really helped with my want to read. The books contained a lot of adventure, which made it easy as a kid to follow along with. I became to gain an imagination and then all of a sudden reading was easier.

Early in my life, my literary skills were already being developed. My best teachers were my three older sisters. They loved to teach me words and read to me as much as they could. My mother recalls that I knew the alphabet by age two and by preschool was learning sight words and nursery rhymes. There was a shelf full of hand-me-down books at home that I would flip through countless times, if just to gaze at the pictures. Regardless, my love for reading was not fully realized until I joined public school.

Then one day in eleventh grade I was sitting in class contemplating my future, and how my standardized test scores would have a major impact. At that moment I realized there was one thing holding me back, my reading. It was just something I hardly ever engaged in during my classes or outside of school. I had great comprehension skills but my reading speed was terrible. Therefor, I went to my Advanced Placement Language teacher, Mrs. Smith and asked for help. I started reading books outside of school on my own time for the first time in years. There was one particular author I greatly enjoyed and that was John Grisham. After a few weeks I was reading an entire book every four or five days. Plus, during a study hall period in school I would go to

Reading never came naturally to me. As a child, I would always find myself struggling to read the assignments I was given for my classes and to make matters worse, I had never read books that challenged me. I never found a book that called to me, so I found myself hating to read. This notion never left me until my mom had to drag me from my house to the library. She had to yell and threaten to ground me until I agreed to leave with her. Surprisingly, the library felt inviting as I entered and was greeted by an old woman. On her desk was a thick book with a large bird featured prominently on the cover with the words To Kill A Mockingbird wrote across its back and her thick reading glasses resting on top of it. My mother proceeded to ask the question I dreaded to hear the most, “Do you think you could help my son find a book series to read? He has never been big into reading.”

My earliest memory in life is being read aloud to by my parents as a baby. There I was, being rocked in a rocking chair by my mother, in one of the oldest homes in Columbia City. On the corner of Walnut Street, it was home to the young Parker family of three, one dog, many bats, and dust. The few years of my life on Walnut Street consisted of Dora the Explorer, asthma treatments, and being read to. Since these early years, I have outgrown Dora and asthma but my love for reading has continued to grow. Although my literacy story is mundane and similar to many others, reading has helped shaped me into the person I am today.