Deborah Brandt professor at at the University of Wisconsin and writer of several literacy books defines literacy as, “a raw material in the mass production of information (45).” In other words the knowledge of writing and reading. Sponsors can come in any form such as an idea or a person. In Deborah Brandt’s article “Sponsors of Literacy” she states, “they lend their resources or credibility to the sponsored but also stand to gain benefits from their success (47).” Sponsors give a helping hand to the sponsored with their resources to ultimately get them to their goal. Although this is the idea, sponsors can manipulate or control how much information you get, and the details, or even add more qualifications than what you originally needed.
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Their decision caused me to fall behind and ultimately fail. I remember my teacher was in the middle of a lecture, and then an old lady would peak into the door and say “Ashley”? Getting out of my desk, she awaited for me smiling. She sat me down in a navy plastic chair in the hallway, taking a small yellow booklet out of her purse onto the table, sliding the booklet towards me to have me put down words in random sections, afterwards to have me read out loud to her. This would happen once a week. Looking back on this currently, I never understood why I had to do these exercises.
Fast forwarding to seventh grade I did not care about my grades and had straight D’s. It was not until my parent’s comparison between my elder sisters and I that it took a toll on me. My parents always knew I needed extra help and always pointed out how my sisters had gotten rewards, and great grades, and how I should be like them. English was especially hard for me because I did not understand grammar or punctuation. I would much rather it be a run on sentence and have the reader become out of breath. I did not care if I was wrong, I would much rather be wrong than try to use punctuation and be
Their decision caused me to fall behind and ultimately fail. I remember my teacher was in the middle of a lecture, and then an old lady would peak into the door and say “Ashley”? Getting out of my desk, she awaited for me smiling. She sat me down in a navy plastic chair in the hallway, taking a small yellow booklet out of her purse onto the table, sliding the booklet towards me to have me put down words in random sections, afterwards to have me read out loud to her. This would happen once a week. Looking back on this currently, I never understood why I had to do these exercises.
Fast forwarding to seventh grade I did not care about my grades and had straight D’s. It was not until my parent’s comparison between my elder sisters and I that it took a toll on me. My parents always knew I needed extra help and always pointed out how my sisters had gotten rewards, and great grades, and how I should be like them. English was especially hard for me because I did not understand grammar or punctuation. I would much rather it be a run on sentence and have the reader become out of breath. I did not care if I was wrong, I would much rather be wrong than try to use punctuation and be