Literacy Autobiography

David Neal

Another Dr. Seuss book. You may think that fragment is full of disdain,
but nothing could be further from the truth in my childhood. My Papa Bear
and Mama Bear (Grandpa and Grandma) would greet me with stacks of
Seuss books when I was a wee little one. I can almost remember every single
time, like a coffee-stained and tattered photograph. I would beg my dad to
read Fox in Socks, marveling as he proudly read without losing his hold on a
single tongue twister. Soon enough, I dove into the books myself and quickly
picked up the gist of reading; I wanted to know more about the pictures on
the page.

It wasnt too much longer before I had my own journal and was trying
to concoct various silly stories. I tried to imitate my new favorite chapter
books, The New Adventures of Mary Kate and Ashley. The book series was
fun and the girls were super cute, so the pages turned fast, but it wasnt until
just before middle school that I found my first literary love. That love was for
Martin the Warrior from the Redwall series. The book painted a whole new
rodent sized world for me and I was awestruck. I also felt devious because
the books were so violent (at least I thought so) and a cover with a mouse on
it made sure no one would know. It was my secret violent novel and my first
heroically sad ending. The first story that my made my chest feel funny.

Unfortunately, I didnt get too deep into the series when I hit my
rebellious phase. An English teacher gave me an F on a well written (besides
every there, their, and theyre being used incorrectly) paper about how
Frankenstein was about man using the powers of God, but just not being
quite ready for it. We just cant have these awful ideas here at Excel
Christian Academy. (Im not sure what she expected when assigning the
book??) Even though the more rebellious thing to do would have been to dive
into reading and writing, I decided the opposite was true.

It wasnt until 10th grade that I rediscovered the gift of reading. A

teacher placed a copy of Fahrenheit 451 into my hands and I was never the
same. I dont remember my exact thoughts, but I remember how profound
they were. This book gave me something special, a new understanding of the
world and what it could be, and I hungered for more. I dove into all the
science fiction I could find, with the exception of a few fantasy titles.
 I didnt rediscover a love for writing until I decided that I hated chapter
outlines in American History class. Even though it took just as much time and
effort as summarizing each section of the assigned chapter, I would write
elaborate stories based on the heading title. Mrs. Minor, bless her heart,
decided on the third assignment turned in to laugh and tell me that I should
think about taking a creative writing elective. She then proceeded to tell me
to do my homework because I already had three Fs. So I did both of those
things. I loved to write non-sequitur stories in the style of my favorite author
at the time, Douglass Adams.

Shoot forward to college. After picking and dumping two majors, I

settled on English with a concentration of creative writing. This is when I
truly fell in love with reading and writing. I ate up every second of round
table workshop time and read to analyze the craft of not only writing, but
also storytelling. Gone were the goofy stories. However, nothing ever felt
quite right about my writing. My sci-fi and magical realism focus was failing
me. My non-fiction reviewed fantastically even though I disliked the style.
Then my muse arrived. Just as the honey bee approaches the glass of wine
to try a sip and finds himself drowned in the sweet nectar, On a Honey
Bee, by Philip Freneau was my first taste of poetry and I dove in. The writing
finally felt right, and it showed in workshop; I was a hit.

I took a regretful hiatus from reading and writing after a failed round of
MFA applications spared no bravado in punching me in the gut. Now that I
am back on a campus, I re-immersed myself in the warm waters of reading
and writing. I have discovered a great purpose that I can hinge onto without
losing grip. I have realized that the years of my life in which I actively read
and wrote are the years that I grew as person. Reading is so important for
expanding our empathy and understanding by giving us fresh perspectives.
Even stories placed in the far future, or another plane of existence entirely,
echo truths about the world we participate in. I used to think the profound
stories of film and gaming were enough, but there is something they lack
that I still cannot pin down. Perhaps it the distance of the media, reading
plays out in your minds eye instead of a screen. Writing is just as important
because it reveals your own perspective of the world and your struggle in it
to not only your audience, but also yourself. The act of writing digs out our
own thinking and holds it before us.

I want to give this gift to the next generation, and the next after that. I
want to help them discover this truth much before I did. I want my students
to dig into themselves and the world around them with reading and writing.
To steal some wording from Looking for Alaska, life is labyrinth of suffering,
but if we can embrace the maze and love our crooked neighbor with all out
crooked heart, we can find the beauty in it. I want my students to uncover
that for themselves, because that is the only way it can truly be understood.
Reading and writing will get them there.

And to break the immersion of the writing (I hope you have been
immersed :3) I will just directly answer the last question. Literacy skills are
important to my content area because they are my content area and they
are hopelessly entangled with my teaching goal.