Mia Gore Professor Mia Eaker English 1101 25 September 2013 My Journey to Literacy: A Literacy Narrative To me, my writing

is like a tree falling in the forest. I can be loud and outspoken when I know no one is going to read it. However, I hope that if someone happens to stumble upon my writing, they will see that something major happened. Just as if someone were to walk through the forest and see a tree lying on the ground. My personal journey to literacy has involved many special moments and people who have made me grateful for the ability to read and write. Understanding the importance of these abilities took some time and I must admit, I am still not where I would like to be with either, but I have developed a love for both. Maybe not a deep passion or a fire to spread the joys of literacy abroad, but an acknowledgement of where literacy has gotten me in life, where it can take me, and that when I am writing or reading a good story, it can actually be quite fun. As a young girl, I always noticed my mother reading. My dad read too, but my mother was what you would call an avid reader. In her spare time, I could always find her curled up on the couch reading from her collection of Judy Garland novels. Sometimes, my mother would get lost in books. Mom. Mom. Momma! Mommy! Hello! I would call, less than 5 feet from her. I could stand there for what seemed like forever, receiving not the slightest acknowledgement. She didnt hear a word. The book had taken her to a distant location, reachable only by her imagination, riding on the wings of Garlands words. I longed to understand the hold books had on her, what in the contents of that bound passport to far away settings could completely remove her from the present time? One day, in my early years of about 5 and 6, my mother and father opened the packaging to my own special passport. It was a light gray LeapFrog reader and it was the beginning of a journey to literacy that has proved to be one of the best gifts my parents have ever given me.

My LeapFrog reader quickly became my favorite toy. It read to me, pronounced words for me, and helped me to understand what words meant. It was my own personal reading instructor. Now, at this age, I would say just before kindergarten, my parents had begun to focus on my development through early learning. They wanted to make sure they provided all the tools necessary for me to be ahead when it was time for school to start, but I think they noticed the reader was the only thing I ever really wanted to use. When I would go to my grandmothers house while my parents worked, I would take the reader with me and my grandma and I would sit in her big comfy recliner while I tried to read to her. When my dad came to pick me up and we arrived at home, my reader would quickly be pulled from my bag and off to the couch I was. I remember how furiously I would beat at the couch, urging my father to rush to his seat beside me so I could read to him. Granted, I wasnt quite reading, but he understood my urgency still. As time passed on, I continued to have my LeapFrog reader everywhere and anywhere. Reading to whoever would listen. One day, though, a moment came. I realized that I was beginning to remember some of the words, what they sounded like, and how to say them! The list of these words continued to grow over the following months until one day, I shocked the world. Well not the world, but my parents, who at that age, were my world at the time. I rushed from my room with reader in tow and plopped onto the couch. Once again I beat furiously, beckoning my parents to rush to what they knew awaited, two seats beside me on the couch, to listen to me read. However, today would be different. I remember Mom and Dad coming in together and sitting on opposite sides of me. Okay dear mom said sweetly. What story will we be reading today? If I am not mistaken, my favorite at the time was a story about a young boy getting ready for the first day of school. So, I replied as I normally did to this question. Lets go to school! I shouted excitedly. My father patted my head and laughed. Good, thats my favorite! So, I began. Reading through the words and remembering the sounds. I looked up once and noticed that my parents were sitting with very happy expressions. I continued on, seeming to glide through the words that had tripped me up many a time before. As, I approached the end of the story, I could feel the amount of space between my parents and I diminishing. They had

begun to lean in closer to observe my progress. As I spoke the final words of the tale, I could feel the surge of pride. I had done it, I had completed my first story all the way through. No stopping for help, no pressing for pronunciations, just me and my lips articulating the adventures of the young boy preparing for his first day of school. This moment of pride lasted for only a few seconds though, as my parents would begin to shower with me with Good jobs and That was so good! and the all too important Were so proud of you. Understanding their excitement, I sat like a well behaved pet, being petted and spoiled rotten in my moment of triumph. However, this moment in my journey to literacy wasnt important just because my parents showered me with praise. Nor was it because of the lovely reward of my favorite meal (Macaroni & Cheese and Chicken Nuggets) that I received afterwards in celebration. This would serve as the first time I had ever been truly rewarded for reading. The first time I ever thought, Wow, if I continue to read well, I will get more chicken nuggets or in a broader sense, If I continue to read well, there will be many more opportunities for me! As we all know, the ability to read isnt the only thing that makes a person literate. Writing also plays a part in literacy and it definitely played a vital role in mine. My first experience with writing that really made me think, was my first writing test. Now, I had written before because I had been made to. Everyone had been made to. But, this situation was different, I looked at it differently. I started to see writing in a whole new way. The first writing test I ever took had a large impact on my understanding of the vitality of writing in the world. At the time my answer to it was Okay, everyone has to write, so they are making sure we know how to write. Our teachers worked so hard to prepare us for that thing, you would have thought their very paychecks depended on it. Well, I guess if a teachers scores were really low, it may. Anyway, I digress. Our teachers had most of us writing every day. Short stories, sentences, finding punctuation and spelling errors, almost like going through writing boot camp. I remember, every classroom was given the same speech the day before. Get a good nights rest and make sure to have a good breakfast in the morning! You really would have thought they were sending us off to war. I wasnt fully invested in the writing test idea until I talked to Mrs. Stamey one afternoon. I remember that conversation somewhat clearly because she laughed at how I had already made up my mind about a situation that I had never dealt with before. I told her of how the whole world had to know how to write and they were trying to make

sure we could. They wanted to see if we could all be authors one day and write books on how to do things and what to do in case of emergencies and things like that. They also needed another way to make sure teachers werent slacking off. Now she really did get a good kick out of that part. The more I talked to her, though, the more I understood how truly serious this test was. The test was administered at school, but graded in Raleigh by this rubric teachers all over the state used to grade every writing test in North Carolina. Our writing would be evaluated based on different checkpoints like grammar, sentence structure, and what not. Then, the scores would be sent back for teachers and principals to look at. A teachers writing scores could affect how the principal viewed their teaching ability. Once Mrs. Stamey started telling me all these important details, I realized that I had to do my best writing. Not because I necessarily wanted to, but because Mrs. Stamey needed myself and all of my classmates to do so. When I look back on that moment, I realize that there will be more times in my life where the importance of writing will shock me. On the job I could have to write a report that five, ten, maybe even twenty important executives will read. Then, just possibly, my boss will evaluate me based on the report and how the executives respond to it. Now, Im most likely not going to want to write that report, either. However, I will do my best on it. Not because I want to, but the bills that will likely be due at that time, will need me to! While sitting at my desk tracing back my literacy roots, my first dedication came to mind and, it too, had a large effect on literacy for me. Now, when I say dedication, Im not referring to the church service where babies our dedicated to God. I mean seeing my first dedication page. That page, towards the very front cover, filled with white space and a small paragraph saying To my kids, you are my inspiration, I write for you or something to that affect. This was a time when I first started writing letters, not assignments, but on my own time and of my own free will. Im in 6th grade and I am reading full length books, most with not a picture in sight. I started paying attention to those dedication pages and one day the thought crossed my mind Why would you choose to write for someone else? I was used to writing because teachers told you to or for tests like the big writing exam, but because you wanted to? That was preposterous. As you can tell at this point in my literate life, writing is not a joyous task, but it must be done. More and more I was seeing authors displaying their love for wives, sisters, neighbors, best friends, brothers, children, military soldiers, etc., in the front of their books and I thought If you love

someone, does that mean you write for them? Now at this age, when my mind got to turning out thoughts and ideas, something had to be done. So, I decided to test my theory: If you love someone, you write for them. So, I began writing letters. A few to my mom expressing my love for her Fettuccine Alfredo and sewing abilities, to dad for being an amazing softball coach and a great listener, to my best friend Devin for always making me laugh and playing with me at recess. Letter after letter, day after day, I turned out lines full of heartfelt thanks like a newspaper office. During this time, I began to sit back and truly feel those moments of expression. I realized how amazing it felt to let out your emotions, almost like discussing them with a friend, but nobody heard a word. I could tell my parents how I loved them without having to perform Ode to Parents at Christmas or make them stop what they were doing to listen to me. Yes, I was a diva, and they had to stop and listen to me. I could write down my feelings on that piece of paper and they would be there for them, myself, or whoever I was writing for whenever they were ready. Almost like a to-go box. You wanted food, but when it go there, you werent hungry enough for it. So, you ask the waiter for a box and you take it home to put in the refrigerator. Sure enough, when youre ready for it, that delicious meal is right there, just as you left it. Letters were the to-go box and my feelings were the food. Literacy can be different things for different people. Some of us may define literacy as the ability to read and write while some may narrow it to their special interests or understandings that make them different. However you describe it, literacy is important to success and its a journey everyone should take.