My Literacy Narrative
My memory of my how I became literate is and always will be a part of me that I will never forget. I suppose I heard the sounds around me and connected them with emotions. Crying, I noticed, got a quick response from my parents, and usually some food. My communication development was identical to every other child learning to talk. Listening. But everyone has a story behind their literacy. Mine was one day, when we were driving to the grocery store, with the radio turned on, my jam turned on. It was the ABC’s. This song was unexpected, not only because of its difference in the nature of the regular pop songs, but that it was a new song altogether. Nonetheless, I began to rock along with the catchy tune of the song. I longed for more and demanded it
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My ‘hard’ work finally paid off.. The song’s had ingrained it’s lyrics into my mind like an indestructible root. A root that would soon grow into a tree of literacy. Like any other child, I learned to communicate and write simple things like my name. There were times when I just could not comprehend some of the longer sentences said. Triggered by this, I relied on myself to learn what I needed to learn, to feel like an individual. I expanded my horizons, trying my hardest to spell my sisters name, a challenge for me when I was younger. Around the age of five, my family gathered around me as I attempted at writing my sister’s name. It was a difficult one, eight letters long, but I managed it. At that moment, I felt like I was walking down the red carpet. It was such a big accomplishment for me, that I would not have been able to do without the practice. My family moved to France for a year, taking a liking by the French language and culture- but I think they were just into Paris’ scenery. I had never given any thought to other languages and cultures. Ashamed by my ignorance, my French lessons were valuable, to me. We made new family friends there and went to their house every once in awhile to eat French food and
My ‘hard’ work finally paid off.. The song’s had ingrained it’s lyrics into my mind like an indestructible root. A root that would soon grow into a tree of literacy. Like any other child, I learned to communicate and write simple things like my name. There were times when I just could not comprehend some of the longer sentences said. Triggered by this, I relied on myself to learn what I needed to learn, to feel like an individual. I expanded my horizons, trying my hardest to spell my sisters name, a challenge for me when I was younger. Around the age of five, my family gathered around me as I attempted at writing my sister’s name. It was a difficult one, eight letters long, but I managed it. At that moment, I felt like I was walking down the red carpet. It was such a big accomplishment for me, that I would not have been able to do without the practice. My family moved to France for a year, taking a liking by the French language and culture- but I think they were just into Paris’ scenery. I had never given any thought to other languages and cultures. Ashamed by my ignorance, my French lessons were valuable, to me. We made new family friends there and went to their house every once in awhile to eat French food and