Every child learns differently; some learn easily, and some have difficulty processing the information that is given to them. My parents taught me the basics of reading and writing, they bought me books and letter blocks to form words with. In my experience, it was easy for me to learn how to read, although, my struggles began with writing. I can not put the blame on my teachers, although, they weren’t much help either. That was until I entered Middle School, my sixth grade English teacher changed my whole perspective of the subject. Just like many other children, I was taught to read and write by my parents. As far as I can remember, I was easily taught the alphabet and how to put words together. They got me letter blocks so I can put them
From the time when I was a little boy, growing up in Graves County, Kentucky, I have had problems with my reading and writing. Things never seemed to click for me, a trait that the teachers attributed to a mild case of dyslexia mixed with a healthy dose of attention deficit disorder. I knew, however, that no disorder was the cause of my distaste of reading and writing. Rather, there was nothing really interesting surrounding me that would grab my interest in the classroom. The teachers I encountered never took any interest in what their students wanted to read or write; they developed assignments based on what the curriculum, a course of study developed by some politicians at the Board of Education, told them to
Like many children, I learned to read and write around the age of five at both home and school. I learned to read by reading Dick and Jane. The writing was simple, but I loved the stories. That was always my favorite part
All throughout my years of schooling, I’ve had just about, one paper that was about one page long, due every year. My papers never had to be more than one page in length. Therefore, I did not have to do much writing or do many essays. Surely not enough to remember any of the assignments. Writing has never been something I enjoyed doing, so I never bothered to many any memories of my writing experiences. I did not think it was necessary to remember any of them since I only had to do them to get a grade. The only writing experience I remember was the first assignment I had in this English 100 class about a writing experience. All week long, I sat there thinking about what to write about, but nothing came to mind as a topic. Then, one thing came to mind, but it was so very vague, I could not write the length that was needed for the assignment. I could only think of a few sentences to write for it. After sitting for a few moments longer, I thought, how about I write about how difficult it was for me to write this essay before it was due.
When I was a kid, I learned how to read and write from my mother. My mother was really patient to teach me how to read and write. I was so excited to learn that from my mother. At first, I learned how to read and write, a, b, c, etc. Then I learned to spell alphabetic with a for apple, b for banana, c for crayon, etc. My mother never gave up to teach me and I tried my best to know what she said to me.
Although I may not remember much about learning to read, I do remember a little bit more about how I learned to write. I remember that my teacher had a chalk holder that held about four pieces of chalk. Each chalk was evenly spaced out so she could draw lines on the board to look like writing paper. We learned how to make our letters on the board. We used the big loose-leaf paper with the dotted lines in between the solid lines. She said we needed that kind of paper to make sure we wrote our letters right. There would already be a letter in the top left corner and I would just try my best to make my letters look like that one. We used the whole paper to do just one letter over and over again. We wrote our letters so much and so often that, that was when I first started to get a bump on my right middle finger. I used to hold the pencil so hard because I wanted my letters to be as good and dark as the example letter. I remember the letter that I had the biggest problem printing was the capital B. It always used to turn out looking weird. The letter that I loved writing was the S’s. I think I liked making the swirls going
As I finished my first semester of college, I was super excited and thrilled when I realized not once did I have to write a paper for any of my classes. There were some paragraphs and summaries here and there but they were pretty standard. When I realized that I was going to have to take Rhetoric 105, a writing course, I freaked out not because there would be a lot of readings but because of the writing expectations. Obviously, I am a decent writer if I was able to get accepted to multiple universities and get good grades throughout my writing career. Yet there is still this nervousness whenever I realize I have to write a paper. I have multiple struggles and strengths when it comes to writing. One of the struggles I face every time it comes to writing a paper is actually getting
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.
The inevitable had happened; I, as a small child, was demanded to read. A little antisocial human being launched into a world of, at first, difficult words and lengthy phrases. While words and literacy were forced into my mind, I had reluctantly begun the adventure to enjoy and accept the art of literature. Later however, my hopes and dreams were crushed to pieces by a gruesome teacher with an interesting form of a so called “grading policy.”
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.
It was not until I reached kindergarten where I first learned how to write. Having parents that were not fluent in English and worked almost all day, I found school being the gateway to my academic success. Learning how to trace letters were the first steps to my literacy journey. Every morning, I would sit in my assigned seat where I had my very own box that contained my crayons. My first task was to trace my name on the paper with crayons, something that every kindergartner is anticipated to fulfill. I remember having so most trouble, everyone has trouble from time to time, but in my case it was all the time. Once the bell rang for recess, all the kids ran right past me to go play outside once they finished writing their name successfully. I was always the last one to go and my teacher, Mrs. Ross, would have to slowly spend more time with me, holding my hand and tracing my name so I could get the hang of it. I did not have the same help at home as I did in school. Unfortunately, my parents could not help me with any of my school work; I either had to be self taught or I had to turn to my teacher for assistance. “The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came to me.” (Hellen Keller) I can relate to this quote because my kindergarten teacher was someone who inspired and motivated me to go past all odds. Like Hellen Keller, meeting Mrs.
As I reflect on my childhood, the first memory of literacy I recall is when I was in kindergarten. I was approaching the end of the school year when my mother revealed to me my teacher was considering keeping me in kindergarten for another year. I was extremely upset and felt as if I had failed my first year of school. I felt that I was fresh out of the gate and already defective. My perception as a child was that the adults were already giving up on me. The teacher stated if I could learn the alphabet by the end of the school year I could continue ahead to the 1st grade. The conclusion of Kindergarten was vastly approaching. My mother constructed flash cards to help with my letter recognition. In doing so, she realized I could not see the letters. My mother promptly made an appointment for me to visit an Optometrist to evaluate me. Before I knew it, I was fitted with a big plastic pair of glasses. My world became much clearer after that. My mother was upset that my teacher did not recognize the problem, and that I never spoke up. Fortunately, I passed kindergarten with a lot of hard work from my parents, teacher, and I.
My writing skills which I have worked on over the few months I have been in English 102 have changed quite a bit in my opinion. There are many things which I have improved upon that were amongst my weaker writing skills when the year began. On the opposite side of that point, there are also many things which I still need to improve upon if I want to truly elevate my writing to a level that I will be confident in. Finally, I have gained new skills outside of writing from this class, particularly the activities which we did in class at various points throughout the year. These things all cumulate together to give me an appreciation of English courses which I did not previously have.
My biggest struggle in writing would be starting my introduction because I never really know what information to add in my stating my thesis statement. Although, one way I’m trying to improve this struggle is by either adding small quotes or definitions to hook the reader and to add some info about my topic. Furthermore, one essay that I feel reflects my writing the best would be the midterm essay. I picked the midterm essay because even though it was timed I still took my time and carefully picked which examples I thought would best represent my opinions. In addition, I feel using the quote “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world” by Nelson Mandela was a very powerful way to keep the reader interested. Ultimately, while I still haven’t overcome the obstacle of writing an introduction I know I’m slowly starting to find my way towards my goal of not struggling when it comes to starting my essays.
My first memory of reading or writing was being taught the alphabet at the daycare I attended in my childhood. I was in the “butterfly room” which was for children going into kindergarten the following year. I have a similar memory of my mother teaching me to write my name when I was around that same age. At some point in the years following I learned to read on my own and became more proficient in writing.
Reading and writing are two of the most important tools in my life, because without them I would not have an education. They form the basis of a class; for example, completing a lab in chemistry would not be possible without following a written lab procedure. These two skills are taught at such a young age, and as education advances students must continue to strive to reach a higher level. I can remember in elementary school, we were always pushed to reach the next reading level once we had successfully mastered the one we were on. It was always a competition for my sister and I to be at a higher level, I usually won. Even though I was excelling in reading it was the complete opposite for writing. It is something that has never come easy