Literacy Narrative 1

Literacy Narrative:

My Development as a Reader and Writer

Vicente Arredondo

ENC 2135
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It is incredible to think about how one can pick up and develop such an instrumental

skill as that of reading and writing. I remember as a child of five years of age I could not

believe myself capable of being able to read and write one day. The situation with me was

that I was very discouraged due to being born late I the year (November) and that meant

the I would start school one year later compared to most of the kids my age who were

favored by the school calendar. This meant that when all the children my age were

beginning pre-K, I was still at home watching TV or doing something typical of a five

year old.

I would see my cousin who was of my age, come from school and I would overhear

my mother and aunt talking about how much progress Sandrita had made with her letters

that day. To me writing was like magic, something that its existence or development I

could not wrap my mind around. I was very intimidated by all the smart kids in school

and I felt that I had to somehow meet their standards even though I was not attending

school.

Not only was I comparing myself to my cousin Sandrita, but also to my other cousins

who were entering school around the same time. They were obviously on track school-

wise with their age. I was the only child of the family who had to be born later in the

year. I had that luck and being stuck at home during school hours made it even worse.

This was because I would go out to the street in front of my house and there would be no

children playing. That was a big hit for me as a kid because it was almost a sure thing that
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someone was out seeking something to do, either play tag or kick around a soccer ball. I

used to go outside everyday trying to check if anyone was out and yes, sometimes there

were one or two but they were always younger than me.

I felt trapped in my house, even the television could not hold my mind from thinking

about how boring my day was. There were times where I slept during the day, and I was

definitely not the kid to fall asleep when there was still light outside. Mind me but had

the energy to run around all day non-stop.

This early insecurity, I believe, held me back from learning how to read and write at

an age most do so. In addition to this insecurity I came to a foreign country, from Mexico

to the United States of America, and I was behind on speaking the language, let alone

read it. The language barrier was something that was even more daunting. I remember not

being able to speak any English for the first three month of kinder-garden. I was the only

student in my class to not be able to read or write until the last few days of class.

I would have been quicker to learn if it was not for having the luck of having such an

incomprehensive teacher. I still remember her name, Ms. Lung. She was a mean and

lonely old lady with glasses and an attitude of your average neighborhood cat-lady. She

had the worst teaching method which was basically no teaching method. In her classroom

all we would do was watch movies and leave for lunch only to return to see another

movie. At first I did not mind, I am a movie lover and I was very happy that all we did

during class was watch movies. Slowly after a month into the school-year, the movies

started to repeat themselves.

The movie watching that was fun at first evolved to a form of torture. I dare to say that

I knew every line to around ten movies. I memorized the lines through so much watching,
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over and over and over again. Ms. Lung was just counting down the days to retirement.

She only had one more year and some change so that is why I believe she just did not

care for our education. She just wanted to live the retired life and be work free. I do not

blame her. I wish I could retire in this very moment as well.

The antithesis of Ms. Lung was Mrs. Bedwell who was my first-grade teacher and is

the person I owe the credit of teaching me how to truly read and write. Her teaching

methods were fun and incited me to read and write on my own time. She was so

comprehensive, mother-like, and really was a firm believer in good education. She was in

my eyes the posterchild of what a teacher should be. She was just a wonder of a teacher.

I was very close to having Ms. Lung for a second year because she was going to be the

first-grade teacher for the next school year, but by divine power or destiny my parents

switched me to attend a different school. I dont forget how fatigued I was the first day of

first-grade. I had had so many firsts in the past year, first time in the United States, first

time in Kinder-garden, first time speaking English, etc. That day was another first in my

life and I was tired of having to experience so many alien situations.

I reluctantly got out of the car with my mother and in a slumped manner walked with

her to my first-grade class. To my surprise (Ms. Lung had given me a bad connotation of

teachers) I was greeted with the smiling face of an old lady who was waving

welcomingly. The stereotype that I had of teachers being mean and careless was erased

by Mrs. Bedwells consisting motherly care and good teaching habits. In that class I also

made friends that I to-this-day still talk to.

The positive environment that I was in was very crucial for me to be able to read and

write. I had some prior skills from Ms. Lungss kinder-garden class but the situation was
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like building on unstable foundations. Mrs. Bedwell had to essentially work from scratch

in terms of my learning. She was very patient, we had a small class so she had the time to

teach me one on one for several minutes every class.

The process of teaching me one on one how to read was a very long process. I had to

study and practice while the other children went to classes such as art class or PE. I

would sometimes even be taught by Mrs. Bedwell during lunch time. I could say that my

reading and writing lessons took well over half my day. Suprisingly I can say that it was

not boring or torturous at all. Mrs. Bedwell made her teaching very interactive and kep

me entertained.

We would dress up like the characters in the stories that I was reading and we acted

out what was happening. Sometimes the other children in the class saw how much fun I

was having and they too decided to join on the play. Since I was a visual learner from the

start connecting the words I read with the images in the book and the acting really

allowed me to solidify in my head the story itself. Mrs. Bedwell also recommended some

books that were designed for visual learners like me. They were very good books that had

twice as much pictures as normal childrens books with just as much writing as any other

book. Never did I see those books again but I remember vividly all the stories they

portrayed. The illustrations were very detailed and comprehensive. There was almost no

need for writing because the story was able to be told through the images.

I remember it was halfway through the school year when I finally was at the same

reading and writing level as the rest of my classmates. Wow, what a feeling it was. I still

am able to taste it when I reminisce that moment in my life. The flavor of accomplish and

in the moment it felt like glory.

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I vividly recall the day that my teacher told me that I was no longer behind the rest of

my classmates, I felt so proud hearing her say those words. Yes, I was the clich student

that came home with a star on his forehead running to the house telling my mom that I

was finally smart and my teacher rewarded me for such an accomplishment. There are

only a few moments in my life where I have felt as proud or as accomplished as that day.

It was comparable to how I felt the day I graduated from high school, or the day I

received a scholarship for college, or the day I received a letter back from Florida State

University telling me I got accepted. It was a fundamental stepping stone in my life

which I will always hold dear.