Everyone is supposed to have a story about how he/she became the reader and writer he/she is today. For me, my story is not just about how I became an exceptional reader and writer; it is about how I became the person I am. I do not have some dark childhood story filled with depressed memories. I had a delightful childhood and cannot complain about anything that I have been through. However, I feel as if I live a life much different from all the children I knew. I grew up in a higher middle-class family within a town below the poverty line. My dad is a pharmacist and my mother is a homemaker. Fortunately, my family never had to worry about putting food on the table or having the IRS threatening us. As a young child, I knew not all the children …show more content…
A lot of my classmates taunted me for receiving good grades on all my tests. It was obvious that I had different morals than they did. Their parents did not care what grades they got. My parents were never harsh, but they would always make me feel guilty if I did not receive high grades on my report card. At times, I would feel pressured to not preform exceptionally in school because of the constant verbal abuse. In fifth grade, I received my first ‘D’ on an English test because some of my classmates dared me not to study for the test that week. Lucky for me, I had very supportive parents unlike some of my other classmates. They explained to me how important it was to maintain a high GPA; I would go much farther in life than they would because of my academic drive. I took their advice to heart and from that moment on I never let negative peer pressure effect how I performed in …show more content…
I have always been an artistic person, and I saw writing as another way to express myself artistically. Many students my age hated to write but I never saw it as a burden. I carried that passion throughout high school and continue to enjoy it in college. My junior and senior English teacher, Mrs. McGhee, had the biggest impact of my writing skills. She was always a tough grader and always made sure to elaborate on our mistakes. She is the reason I became such a strong writer. She and Anne Lamott have similar personalities. Lamott states, “It’s not like you don’t have a choice, because you do- you can either type or kill yourself.” Mrs. McGhee hated excuses. She expected her students to complete the tasks that were given to them, but, of course, high school students always complained and probably rather kill themselves than write a paper. She constantly motivated her students to work hard and complete their work to the best of their abilities. I cannot thank her enough for the impact she has had on my academic
Certainly, being born into a privileged family have their advantages. Unfortunately, for those who are born into poverty may struggle for their success, but it is not impossible. The podcast “Three Miles” is a great example of that. Comparatively, on the surface Melanie and Raquel are two individuals coming from the same unfortunate circumstances. Although, both girls were introduced to the same pen pal program their outcomes would travel different courses. Initially, the purpose of this program is to give students from poor neighborhoods a glimpse inside their wealthier counterpart’s lives, from another school. Raquel and Melanie’s backgrounds were similar, because they were afforded the same opportunities, but they turned out differently. Raquel was driven while Melanie is unambitious.
I wasn’t poor but I wasn’t rich either, I was surrounded by an environment in which many people where in need of shelter and food because their families could not afford both. Just like poverty played a major role in my life, so did an ambitious and hardworking environment. Because those people I would see every day on the streets without food or a home, were the ones that had a bigger passion than anyone else, to one day be able to have a stable job and home for their family. This has shaped me to be who I am today, because I greatly appreciate what I have and take advantage of the opportunities I am given because not everyone is lucky enough to have what one
As much as society tries to deny the fact that the family that one comes from determines their fate, in almost every case this very fact is true. Today, we see how infants who are born into wealthy families are treated differently than children who are born into drug and disease-stricken poverty. Higher classed people stand out in society on both a local and national level much more than the average middle class working family.
I yelled at them, ignored them, and occasionally did the opposite they told me too. At the time, I thought that made me better than them, but in the end, it got me nowhere. Soon I entered high school and my bratty preteen-self calmed down. However, my parents became stricter on my grades because there was a big milestone that would be coming up in a few years, getting accepted into college. My parents made it very clear that if I did not get a large scholarship to any university, I would have to go to the local community college. That was the last thing I wanted to happen, I wanted out of the house. I now had a strong incentive to do well in school. I wanted to be able to go out on my own and escape their tight grasp on me. I completed year after year, always making “A’s” in my classes. I soon climbed to the top of my school’s ranking system and was at the top of my class. Though, this did not matter to me, I wanted out of my house. At this point, I knew I was not disappointing my parents, they were as proud as can be with a daughter at the top of her class. This was the first time in my life that I felt as if my parents were generally proud of me and my accomplishments. I still however, felt guilty. Even though I was doing it for myself, I felt bad that I wanted to escape my parents. I did not hate them, I just could not stand being under their control
My family wasn't always an upper middle class family. Starting with my grandparents, my mom's mother named Bonnie Langdon. She lived in what is a now West Bloomfield in Oakland county Michigan. She was a sister to 9 siblings and she attended a One-room schoolhouse. Bonnie's mother Betty Worked in the post office for 30 year and her father Harry drove an oil truck for about the same amount of years. They were mostly lower class but they did manage to get themselves more towards the middle class. Over the years bonnie my grandmother graduated from high school and started to work for Pontiac motor, which moved Bonnie up tom middle class.
Once I reached high school my love for writing dimmed. I was taught a formula on how to write the perfect essay. The dreaded five paragraph essay was engraved in my brain: An intro with a hook, a thesis, body paragraphs, and a conclusion. Constantly being told my creativity wasn’t formal, so when I wrote papers it was more facts and evidence and less short stories and experiences. My writing became dull to me and reading over my papers and stories was a dread because I could see the drastic amount of lost creativity. Although I still received high praise it felt as if the papers I was writing wasn’t
As I reflect it becomes clear to me that I enjoyed writing my junior year in high school. My English teacher Mr. Duckworth was a one of a kind teacher. His classroom was a normal classroom setting with the desk all line up behind one another. All of his students would face the white erase board that was located in the front of the room. He would typically sit at his desk leaning back in his chair giving us instructions on what was to be done in the class. As we sit in the class, all I can hear are my classmates laughing and joking around as he spoke. he would already have an essay topic on the board that was to the right of us that he could easily see from his desk. This was an everyday routine for all of his classes. As we begin to write, I noticed how different classmates of mine would get up to ask for help with their essay. The students who never asked for help usually would end up with a lot of red markings on their essays.
As these few tales reveal, my memories of writing are strongly connected with the intense emotions I felt as I grew up. They are filled with joy, disappointment, boredom, and pride. I believe that each of these experiences has brought me to where I am today. I can only look to the future and hope that my growth will continue, and my writing will reflect those changes within me. As a writer, I have grown immeasurably and will continue to so long as I can find some paper and a pencil.
Mrs. Plot, one of the hardest English teachers in Murray County High School, was my teacher that year. She was a very determined and driven teacher that did not tolerate her students to fail her class, even if they were lazy. I had heard horror stories from her former students, but she was nothing like they said she was. She was the only teacher that I have connected with all throughout school. I looked forward to her class every morning because she always made learning fun. Mrs. Plot gave out good advice about English, but she also gave me personal advice and was more of a friend to me. She always knew what to say to me when I had problems. She motivated me to do better with my writing; we went to a journalism class together every week that year. Mrs. Plot deepened my love for reading and writing. Without her, I would not be the kind of student I am today. On every assignment in her class, I got the most feedback and it helped me out a lot. It took me a long time to become a decent writer, but with her help she sped up the process. I put all of my effort in every single paper I have written, especially for her
Everyone has a story, a pivotal moment in their life that started to mold them into the person they are today and may even continue to mold you to the person that you will become, I just had mine a little bit earlier than others. When I was three years old my brother became a burn survivor. It may seem too early for me to remember, but I could never forget that day. Since then, I have grown, matured and realized that what my family and I went through has been something of a benefit to be and an experience that has helped me in deciding what I want to do with the rest of my life.
Everything in life that we experience effects who we are as a person today. Even if we do not remember all the events that shaped a particular part of our life, we have memories of the events that we believe had the biggest impact. The types or experiences we have both positive and negative help shape us into the types of readers and writers we become.
First time out of the wire and on patrol but not with first platoon, First Sergeant moved me to second platoon just the day before. The night insertion that we conducted that night went without a hitch. The soldiers that were in my truck took turns throughout the night behind the weapons system which was an M-240B. At zero eight in the morning of the next day patrols started around the bazaar by the dismounted troops. I was coupled with the PL* and conducted familiarization patrols so that I could get eyes on the sector from the map that was issued to me the night we left. Starting off at the far limits of the sector we went to position E (east) and was instructed on what the sectors were as was the activities that had been conducted the previous
When I was a Child, I have never stopped wondering what it would be to fly in the sky. I had tried to jump from sofa or bed with an opened umbrella in my hand，and imagined myself as a flying bird. As I grow up, those wonderful fantasy become faded in my brain. I still like flying, and I had experience something like helicopter tour, but never a real fly. I always have the thoughts to explore life, to experience
There are many different types of events that shape who we are as writers and how we view literacy. Reading and writing is viewed as a chore among a number of people because of bad experiences they had when they were first starting to read and write. In my experience reading and writing has always been something to rejoice, not renounce, and that is because I have had positive memories about them.
Most of my childhood is filled with memories of unfortunate events. Writing was my outlet to express my feelings about them, but could never formulate my thoughts in a coherent manner. My short stories and poems always had a tendency to begin with one idea and end on a completely different one, though that never bothered me, I simply loved writing, whether it was good or not. However, it wasn't until middle school writing became an actual outlet for my emotions, because my difficulty to comprehend the spectrum of emotions I had throughout the day.