For myself, I have always considered reading and writing a challenge. I am the type of person that doesn’t shy away from challenges, in fact, they inspire me. However, reading and writing were a different case. The challenge seemed impossible, too hard, and not worth …show more content…
Captivated by fear, I just sat there staring at the page in pure fright and silence. My teacher thought I was just afraid of messing up in front of the class but the truth was I just didn’t know how. I knew my ABC’s and certain sight words that i had memorized but nothing beyond that. Every time I had reading homework, I asked my parents to read it to me so I could take notes or draw a picture of the overall theme or some excuse to get out of reading. In that moment of pure fear, I burst into tears and in between breaths I said “I can’t, I don’t know how”. This was the first turning point in my journey towards literacy. From then on I had to go to tutoring with my teacher every day for an hour after school or during recess to learn how to read. My parents would make me practice reading everything from magazines in the doctor's office to books in the library. By the end of the year, I was all caught up with the rest of my classmates, reading at a second grade level. Now that I did not see reading as a giant, I had begun to actually enjoy English class in school however the feeling of security was short lived. It's funny how a challenge I thought I had conquered could come back and haunt …show more content…
During my senior year of high school, my english teacher assigned us letters to a past teacher that has impacted our reading and writing. I automatically knew who my letter would be addressed to--my sixth grade english teacher. Beginning my letter with an innocent and light hearted tone, as most thank you letters would be, mine then took a turn reminding her of the day her grotesque words affected me as a student and a person. I ended my letter with the words, “Thank you for being the challenge that forced me to choose whether or not I wanted to thrive or die in my reading and writing success”. A few days later I received a letter in the mail from my former sixth grade teacher. It was an apology, one that i had been wait for, for so long. However, it didn’t feel the way I thought it would. Her apology didn’t have any weight and basically meant nothing to me because I found more satisfaction in proving to myself what I could accomplish despite the tainted words she spoke over