Admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human.
Reading and writing were never my strong suit growing up. To start off, when I was a little girl about the age of three or four, I started to read by following along with the pictures as my mom would read my favorite story, “The Three Little Pigs. She would read word for word as I said the words aloud and stared off into the vivid watercolor pictures, just imagining the little pigs, how they were dressed and what they build their houses out of. One of the houses was made of straw, one of the sticks and the best one of all made out of bricks.
First grade we started to write little stories about all different types of adventures. We also had daily diaries about what we did at home that day. I started to struggle as things got more challenging This was when I realized that I was different from the other kids in my class at school. Reading and writing became harder as the books got bigger with more pages and bigger words than just “I ran to the store”. Sentences had more structure and larger, more detailed words. My teacher, Ms. Memo, saw me having difficulty in class. She suggested an extra reading class. When Ms. Memo told my classmates it was reading time, a small number of students and I would head down to room 105 and have time with Mrs. Smith to work on our reading. I always thought of myself as different or not as good as the other kids in my class. Struggling made me feel not as smart as the other students in my class. This different feeling made me grow to not hate but dislike reading. Writing became a struggle along with reading as the two usually went together; I would only read and write when I had to in class.
Throughout middle school, things became worse. After struggling for so long with reading, I began to “fake” reading in class, because I was so frustrated with the struggling of reading and how time-consuming it was for me. Just rereading the same sentence over and over until time was up. My literacy class was not very helpful in middle school. I basically felt like I was on my own for everything. The material that they were the teacher we had nothing to do with what we were learning in class, this class was just extra homework and a way to eat up my time. While in these special classes that were supposed to help, everyone else was in band or chorus and had French or Spanish class. In elementary school, I was special and got to go to this cool classroom, while in middle school I was “special” and had to this stupid classroom. I liked creative writing whenever it was involved in class. I loved writing stories like I used to in elementary school. They were about doing amazing things like going on cross country trips or hiking through the mountains, just cool adventurous type of fictional stories. Middle school everything changed to writing about history and how other authors saw things, not what I wanted to see. My thoughts and feelings just got worse over the course into high school.
In high school, I wanted to be as normal as possible. I didn’t want to be in special classes I felt dumb. People just looked me as a different person when I didn’t have subjects like art and Spanish in my academic schedule. People looked down on me, I couldn’t take the fact of being different in a bad way from everyone else; I wanted to be in classes with all the other kids in my grade and all my friends. Since the reading and learning classes weren’t helping, I decided to drop out of those. My mom wasn’t too pleased with me when this had happened she didn’t think it was a good idea. She was right, this increased my difficulty with writing history and research papers. I was never able to find the best information needed as well as being able to fully explain the point across, the theory of the essays. I was always dreading going to English class, without my reading classes and learning support I had to drop down to a slower English class that had more time for projects and had easier assignments with a fuller explanation of how things were supposed to be outlined and finished. At this point in my life, there were no creative writing assignments which just brought my mood on the situation down even more. I never had any hope for reading and writing never really saw these in my future has to have a big impact.
Things were different junior year of high school, I had one of my favorite English teachers ever that year. She was always so sweet, and nice, whenever she walked into the room we all would just be so happy that our day ended with her. She was very understanding and just had a great atmosphere in the class. Whenever we were confused on a class assignment. Ms. Koule would take the time to go over every little thing and be always available for extra help. Ms. Koule was always there for us and was more like a good friend than a teacher, this is having so many kids were able to bond with her so easily. I would even have her help me with problems that weren’t English related as long as it was after class and not during it.
In early November, we were learning about different people’s perspective and how they can have an effect on other people was well as change their own opinion. Ms. Koule gave us the assignment to create an essay, our choice topic to give a speech to the class to try and change their own views on the subject and to agree to mine. For my topic, I wanted something I knew I could fight about with any given person. I chose to write my essay about why people should become organ donors. This is a topic I strongly believe and agree upon; I felt that everyone should be an organ donor unless you have religious reasons otherwise. With just one person being and organ donor can save so many lives giving people the chance to breathe on their own again, or someone getting a nice healthy heart to live with. After giving this speech to my class even though I was extremely shaky and had trouble giving the speech I still managed to make some of my classmates tear up and agree with my opinion on the subject matter. I actually won the contest we were having in class. I found it much easier to write essays that I could somehow relate back to myself or to a topic I cared deeply about such as this one. This approach to writing this essay just gave me a whole new view and meaning to writing; it the start of a new way of thinking towards writing.
After having this realization in writing I soon was able to write with much more ease and more frequently. Writing about something that I could relate to was the best thing I could have done to turn myself around. I had the same reaction with reading in high school, reading certain books that captured my attention like romantic novels. Romance novels may seem very unrealistic but the emotion and drive are all real in comparison to real life. Nicholas Sparks and John Green are my favorites for the way they can just grab the reader and make them a sucker for their love stories. Being able to read the books and then watch the movies is my favorite thing to do because then you choose the book over the movie any day
Now I feel even better all the writing and reading now is done for the readers’ reaction and opinion to the situation. So it is very easy to relate to myself or the real world. My college English class is set up where I have the course over two semesters instead of having it packed into one very hectic semester. I am putting out better work than what I would be doing at the average level over one semester. Anyone who can take reading and writing into a relation to themselves or the real world will have a better time understanding it. As well as writing about a topic you have so much emotion and thought for just makes it’s much easier to say what you need to say. I know these turn in events helped me so much and will keep helping me improve more as I further my education.