literacy narrative

Shelby Beaven

English 101

September 9th, 2013

Around the age of 6, I always remember watching my mom write letters and was amazed seeing words being written. I would constantly plead and ask her, "Mommy, how do you do that?" She would reply, "It's something people are taught, sweetie. You will learn it in kindergarten this year, they will teach you how to write all the letters of the alphabet." I could not comprehend this, it all seemed too much for my young, innocent brain to handle, but inside of me was jumping up and down as excitement hit me. What was an “alphabet?” What were these “letters” she spoke of? I was so eager to learn how to write, it fascinated me that you could write letters in order to communicate what you wanted to say. Kindergarten couldn’t start soon enough; I just wanted to learn this mystical “alphabet.”

It was the night before my first day of kindergarten, and I was as anxious as ever; I was ready to learn all about the alphabet and the many different letters that were a part of it. My mom had told me that school was the place where I would learn these, and I thought school would be the best thing to ever happen to my life… little did I know. My first day of kindergarten, the teacher told us everything that would be going on for the year. I was just waiting for her to say "learning how to write the letters of the alphabet." Suddenly, those words finally sprang from her mouth, and I just about jumped out of my chair. I didn't fully understand why I wanted to learn to write; however, whenever the topic was brought up by someone, all I wanted was to magically know how. It absolutely intrigued and thrilled me that people were able to use these things called letters to communicate without speaking. My teacher really made me excited to learn the

alphabet, she made it seem like the coolest thing in the whole world. I was so young and naïve, I was stoked to be able to write like my mommy.

I had been patiently waiting for the day to come when I would finally learn this coveted skill the adults called writing. It came after what seemed like forever, and I was more than willing to do whatever it took to learn this spectacular skill. My teacher wrote down the entire alphabet on the chalkboard for my classmates and me to get an overview of all of the letters – I remember this because of how slowly she did it, taking her time drawing them and having us all pronounce them as she went along. Taking it day by day, we would learn a few letters at a time. This allowed us to get familiar with each individual letter and really learn them thoroughly. She taught us the typical “A is for apple, B is for boy, and C is for car.” She made it very easy for us to learn these letters using these tactics. It was exciting for me to be able to learn to write my name and learn the letters S H E L B Y, I was so proud of this accomplishment. I was thrilled to learn them all at once, but I am now happy she took it so slowly.

After a few weeks of diligently working on each one, the day came when we were on our last couple of letters, and the day that I would show my parents my achievements of learning how to write the entire alphabet. I was keeping it a secret to them because I wanted to show them what I was able to do all at once. I went home, got out my handy dandy pencil and a sheet of paper that I had been carrying in my backpack. I said, "Mommy and daddy, I have something I want to show you, it’s a really, really good surprise. Are you ready?" They looked at each other, smiling ear to ear, and replied, "What do you have to show us?! Let's see it, we're ready whenever you are!" I took my pencil and wrote down every single letter in the alphabet. I could just look at my parents and tell that they were in complete astonishment; they couldn't believe what they were seeing before their eyes. "Honey, we are so proud of you. Why didn't you tell us you were

learning this in school?" "I wanted to surprise you with it. Good surprise, huh?" - Giggling while I asked. "It certainly was, what a great thing to come home to." They gave me a big kiss on the cheek as I continued to practice and better my writing.

Of course, my parents weren’t actually that shocked that I had learned such a thing, but their fervor at the time really inspired me to continue to assert myself in school. Learning how to write meant more to me than learning how to verbally communicate without actually speaking, it showed me how supportive my parents were and how much my education meant to them. It lead me to believe I had actually accomplished something extraordinary, when, in fact, I had done little more than most kindergarteners across the country. I developed my finer writing skills throughout the rest of elementary school, middle school, high school, and even to this day I am learning. My vocabulary developed, my grammar usage, and my sentence structure improved throughout my school years, but it all began in kindergarten with something as simple as letters.

Today, I can write approximately 34,567 words, but who’s counting? Learning how to write now means I can go to college, I can get a job, I can do so many more things than I would have been able to had I not learned back in kindergarten. Now, writing allows me to show you my intelligence; it lets you see how I think and how I organize my thoughts. Writing is now just something I am trying to better with style, language, flow, and word use. From my humble beginnings, to today in English, Writing, and Rhetoric, writing is allowing me to show people how I feel. Every day I hear new words, new phrases, and I develop my style to fit the required atmosphere. Writing, for me, is a story that will never end and will forever have an impact on how I use language to convey a message or get a point across. Nonetheless, I don't know where I would be without the fantastic teachers throughout the years helping me to succeed in my writing and always wanting me to improve still to this day.