A story that that comes to my mind when thinking about the history of my education is the story my Father told me. My father is pretty old and is in his early 60s. he was around during a time where people of color were treated very differently, he would tell me stories of how he use to have to sit in the back of a bus even after black people gained civil rights because he didn’t feel comfortable in the front and wasn’t use to it. when I was little I would always ask my dad to read me stories and he would tell me stories. as I got a little bit older I was beginning to learn how to read , one day I was having a hard time reading a sentence so I called my Dad over to help me. My dad refused to help me and instead called my Mom over to help me. I thought it was strange but I didn’t think anything of it. Eventually I learned that my Dad actually couldn’t read and he needed people’s help to read and explain things to him. when I was little he wasn’t actually reading the book he was just creating a story and pretending to read it from the book. when I asked my Dad why couldn’t he read he explained to me that his education back then wasn’t that great and that the teachers didn’t really care about him. He told me that the teachers wouldn’t help him that much because they believed that “negroes” wouldn’t make it that far and that they did bad compared to the white students. My Dad’s educational level (non-high school graduate) had an impact on my education because I would have to learn how to read sentences on my own and I would have to learn how to do homework on my own too. I didn’t have parental assistance when it came to doing homework and I was a bit behind in reading compared to the other students. After my Dad told me that story I took my education more serious and began reading books on my own so that I could help him, so in a way My education was influenced by his.
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