Being the second youngest in my family out of five children, you would think that reading would be easy for me growing up.
But learning how to read was a challenge. It was something that I never thought I would be able to do without a lot of help from my father. Being brought up with my father, a single parent we had our ups and downs. My father was a very hard working man. He tried his hardest to take of five children. Besides having a job that required him to work long hours he made sure we had everything we needed.Being single and not having any help from anyone, he never had any time to help us with homework or reading. Before going to kindergarten I went to a preschool that was just across the street from where I lived.
I loved it, I remember my teacher would always have story time before we took a nap. She would let one of us pick out a book from the book shelf and then she would read it. I looked forward to going to school because the fact that she read a different book every day. Reading everyday would make me excited because it was one step away from me learning how to read.Sometimes she would let us take a book home so that we could try to read it by ourselves. I loved looking at all the different pictures and colors in the books. She made reading fun and made us realize that kindergarten was going to be interesting.
At this point I felt confident about going to kindergarten. I can remember that kindergarten was fun. I enjoyed story time the most.
In our class we use to sit on the carpet in front of the class and my teacher would read us a story.We would also do exercise’s where my teacher would write words on the chalkboard and we would read them out loud. I enjoyed this exercise because I knew most of the words. Kindergarten was everything that my preschool teacher said it would be and I was happy.
When I became a little older and got an understanding, I knew that my father was too busy to help me with my reading me and I knew I had to ask someone else for help. One day, I came home from school with a book that I was excited about reading. I had asked my sister Buggy, if she would read it to me.She read the book and then reading with her became a daily routine for us every day after school. I was excited having someone to read to me and that I finally could learn how to pronounce some letters and put them together to read a word. About three months went by and my sister had moved out. The whole bedtime story and trying to learn how to read had come to a complete stop.
As the days went by, not having anyone to help me with my reading made me feel like my world had ended. I felt like I was never going to be able to get through grade school. I felt hopeless.When I was about nine years old, knowing what I learned in school as well as what my sister had taught me I began to read by myself. I knew that I would have to learn some how.
At that point I would bring books home from school and try to read them. It was a challenge for me but I didn’t give up. While I was reading out loud to myself at home one day, I remember my little brother coming up to me and asked “what are you doing? ” I replied “reading a story, would you like me to read to you? ” Of course he being four at the time said “yes”. From that day on, I read a story to him everyday.He was always excited to see me when I came home from school. I read to him every day until he started school.
When I was finish reading him a book I would go and read more. For me reading became easier as I got older. The more books I read the less I struggled with words.
I believe it was in fourth grade when I first picked up a chapter book and tried to read it. It was difficult at first. I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t understand what I was reading. I got frustrated and mad at myself for not knowing the reason why I couldn’t understand.By this time I wanted to give up and just stop reading, but then I started thinking.
I had come this far doing my best in trying to read why give up. I understood when my sister read a book to me and understood when I read a book to my brother. It was then when I realized that, reading out loud and hearing myself was the best way I understood a book. I then read the book out loud to myself. I read the first page and the second and so on. When I got to the end of chapter one, I thought wow I understood what I just read.I was so proud of myself for finding out what was best for me to understand. It is a book that I would never forget the title of it.
The book is called The trouble with Buster. It was a book that I fell in love with and read at least once a week. I went through all of my elementary years enjoying ever book that I read. Then came intermediate when everything had to be done by reading. I enjoyed English for the most part, then the day came when I needed to write and essay about a book that I liked or read. I was happy because I loved reading and it was going to be easy.
I was scared about writing part, but I did it and got a B on my paper. I was proud of myself for doing my best. As I went through intermediate and then high school I still liked reading. By the time I reached tenth grade I started slacking and not wanting to do any reading. All I wanted to do was have fun like my classmates. By the time I finished the tenth grade I ended up getting pregnant. I was trying to just get through school and having a child made it harder. When I did graduate I was just to occupied to even try to read.
Reading is an important thing in my family today. I have three beautiful boys. There is not one day that goes by, that I don’t have them pick up a book and read. Although reading was very challenging for me growing up, I told myself that when I had children that I will not let reading be a challenge for them. If there is one thing in life that I want them to remember when they grow up is that I, always told them to get a book and read. I also tell my children, never give up if they have a difficult time learning to read always keep a positive attitude.