My Favorite Kind Of Writing

Thanks to hours and hours of bedtime stories, I was able to read from the age of 3. In kindergarten I read to my classmates, and by second grade I was reading series like The Boxcar Children and Trixie Belden. Books allowed me to get lost in other worlds full of adventure and excitement. My love for what words can do has extended through high school. I pride myself on my book collection, anything from Hunger Games to The Picture of Dorian Gray. I’ve continued to read all the way through high school, some books four or five times because I love them so much.

My mother taught me how to read at a young age. She read to me before I could read which helped me learn new words and develop a basic understanding of literature at an early age. When it came time for me to attend elementary school, I remember heading to the library quite often. Books were organized based on what was thought to be the appropriate reading material for that grade level. I often found myself wandering down the isles with the older kids. I’m so grateful my mother encouraged reading as much as she did. If she hadn’t, it’s very possible I could have struggled with reading. If this were true, I wouldn’t have learned as much as I did, or had the desire to read, which is very important in order to become as advanced in literature as possible.

Before I began elementary school, I enjoyed reading picture books, the touch and feel books and pop-up books. I loved the author Dr. Suess, because he was funny and because I loved the rhyming he did in his writing. I can remember before bed, my mom or dad would read to me until I got old enough to read myself. My mom has always enjoyed reading, if she is not reading a book, then she is reading a recipe or a magazine. My dad on the other hand, I have only seen him read one book, besides reading manuals for his tools. Reading was not a big deal in my house, all of us kids were told that we needed to read, but they did not force us to read. This brings me to Richard Rodriguez’s essay, in his household reading was not as important, but once he got to school, he realized that reading is one of the main activities. I can relate to Rodriguez because in either one of our households we weren’t told that we had to read before we did something else. Once I got to elementary school is when I realized that reading was not for me. Before school, I enjoyed reading, then once I began elementary school, I was forced to read, take tests over books, and read out loud in front of the class which made reading a chore.

For some people reading can be a difficult experience. For me it became difficult at the age of five years old. I really wasn’t an educational kid I was more of a kid that like to play with my toys and four brothers, whenever they came home from school. As I grew up reading became a little more difficult for me to master, at times in my middle school my teacher Mr.G would test us on how well and skilled we were at reading. Every day when it was time for him to test me I would get nervous and started to stubble on words and fail my test. By the time I was in high school I learned how to take my time and read, which has help me to progress my reading skills over the years.

But, I can tell you how reading this book made me feel. I was restlessly waiting for more, completely mesmerized, and extremely disoriented – which, in turn, only made me crave more and more of a limited page count. It sort of reminded me of reading Brave New World in the sense that, after reading it, I still had no clue what had happened but at the same time knew exactly what was going down. This book baffled me so completely that, even while writing this review, I am still struggling to pull apart what was real and what was

I have acquired many literacy opportunities throughout my literacy life my parents, grandparents, and teachers ,I hold them very close to my heart because if it wasn’t for them pushing and encouraging me to read and write I wouldn’t be the literate person I am today. I bear a huge family so there are always many voices going through my head so it wasn’t long until I started speaking, as well as comprehending what all these strange words meant recognizing the words was very difficult before I started practicing them. My parents always encouraged me to read and write in a way no child can resist with toys and candy who could say no to that. Every chance they got to help me read they would read with me. I wasn’t forced to read on my own because I didn’t know how.

I’ve never looked at a book the same. I now allow myself to get lost amongst the words, the characters, the scenes; they all become real in my mind. I have a hunger for books and the stories that can remove me from my surroundings. It came to my attention much later on, that the boy on the road probably didn’t even know what he was reading – the title was English and he most likely spoke Mandarin. It was just a way to escape his

Growing up my father taught me many life lessons; one that I will never forget was when he told me: “A man living in a house without light will never know where he is going or what he wants to do.” At the time I did not understand what that meant until one day he explained in to me. Without proper goals a person is just lost in darkness and unable to find their way in life. By working towards my goals, I feel that I am constantly growing as an individual and learning how to approach all sorts of situations that life throws at me. Recently, being a part of the EOF Nursing School Program at Rutgers University, I feel that I have just set the foundation to achieving my goals which include graduating with my Bachelor’s Degree in Nursing alongside one day opening a home for the less fortunate in Guyana.

Ever since I was younger I have always tried staying away from reading. The only person in my family that likes to read is my mom; however, she does not read often. Once she picks up a book, she cannot put it down. My dad on the other hand, never picks up a book. He and I are one in the same; we do not like reading because we have a hard time comprehending what we read. My brother also does not like to read. He does not like reading because he has a learning disability. My mom always had an extremely tough time getting him to read. Overall, my literacy experiences at home are few and far between.

Reading is something that is taught to everyone in their early childhood, the time I learned to read I was very fond of books. I loved to read novels to myself and to read them out loud to my sister. I like reading action, thriller, historical fiction, and mystery. During my early childhood we would have challenges of reading such as wrapped up and reading, golden dragon. These were reading challenges for students to read 20-25 specific grade novels during the school year and at the end you got a party if you read at least 5-10. I used to love reading and at that time I would read at least 20 books because I wanted to go to the party and win something with the lottery tickets I got. My childhood was fulI of reading, even if I read because I was greedy and I read because of the party, it still improved my reading level. As I grew and grew my reading

In conclusion, I grew up to not love to read. I notice that I don't read as much as I use to as I grew older. As I discuss encouraging your child to read, I didn't mention that being read to gave me independence and self-confidence. However, the technology world is taking over our basic world. Kids today would rather pick up a cellphone instead of picking up a

Reading has been one of my favorite hobbies since I was a little child. I grew up as a normal child should grow and eventually I had to start learning for me to fit in society. My literacy started many years ago, after I knew how to talk and communicate with people. Reading my alphabet was quite stressful and I had to be given a hand by my family members. I remember my parents reading with me and it was the most meaningful and memorable way to spend time with me. This is because I liked reading a lot and I was eager to learn so that I could fit in with my older siblings. My favorite books were storybooks taking about adventures and fairytales

Growing up, reading was a hassle. Letters into words, words into phrases, phrases into sentences, sentences into paragraphs and paragraphs into essays. The process never ends. In other words, tiresome. Reading was not only something I tried to avoid, but was something I never could fall in love with.

At this point in my life, reading would definitely not make a list of my favorite things to do, but this wasn’t always the case. Some of my youngest memories involve reading, and many of these memories are enjoyable. Every night before bed my mom would read to me, and I remember begging to read just one more before she tucked me in almost every night. This is when my love for reading sparked. Throughout grade school, I continued to read frequently and never found it to be a chore; however, once middle school hit I no longer included reading as a past time or found it pleasurable. Looking back now I realize this was when English class included more forced literature, and school consisted of reading extensive pages in textbooks. Reading

From an early age I loved to read. At just two years old I would beg my mother to enroll me into school. I watched as my older sister meticulously picked out her outfit each night in preparation for the next school day. At such a young age I somehow knew that this thing called “school” was the answer to something spectacular. My home was chaotic and reading became an escape and helped distract me from the unpleasant family dynamic.