The Beginning: Literacy History

Belle exclaimed, "Well, it's my favorite! Faraway places, daring sword fights, a prince in disguise..." When people asked why I enjoy something as simple as reading a book, these words never rang truer to my little ears. It allowed me to go on adventures with Robin Hood! Laugh at the gregarious Emperor and his new outfit! And be whisked away with Cinderella to a ball where she will meet Prince Charming and live happily ever after.

    That was a typical view of my weekend because I was frequently left alone while my grandmother cleaned other people's castles, and my mother drove the carriage that transported many princesses and princes from one event to another.   

    To disconnect from the real world and enter another helped fill the void left by being alone at home. I could escape into my own little world because I had storybooks.

My parents separated, but one thing they agreed on was the value of my education. So, while my mother read with silly voices and gestures, my father practiced my writing skills before I started school. My grandmother helped me develop my skill by allowing me to read a book every time we went to Target. By the time she finished; making her rounds down the aisles, I would have finished the book.

    The rush of joy I felt when I first read through my fairy tale book by myself. As a reader, I believe that moment was crucial. From there, I would appreciate large storybooks and one of my favorite chapter series, Junie B. Jones. My nose was always in a book in some way! If I was not reading, I was watching Reading Rainbow! My love of reading outweighed my love of writing. Only because I was always discouraged; when I could not string words together when I was younger. Even back then, the people around me were always encouraging me to ask questions. 

    When I moved into second grade, I felt like Junie B Jones, my favorite character. As a result, my mother bought a journal; and we began writing one page per day. She showed me the format, and eventually let me write on my own. This is when I began to enjoy writing because it allowed me to reflect and reminisce. To this day, I enjoy journaling whether it is to write about my day, vent for a page and a half, or jot down any sayings I liked.  

      But as the years passed, my passion for language arts was lost. I would give anything to feel how I felt when reading my favorite books for the first time. For me, it was not the same anymore, reading started to become distasteful, and quite frankly was draining. For the past several years, having school force me to read boring books has caused me to distance myself from what used to feel like magic to me.  

    Luckily, since I did not have those dreadful summer books, I recently chose some books from my local library. My parents continue to condition my love for books, when they pass by a book they see I might enjoy reading, they buy it. I am grateful for everything they have given me, and I see myself journaling and reading leisurely more often now because other worlds are so much better than ours.