KARLAFRANCO_DRAFT1_UNIT 1

At the young impressionable age of 4 I began to read, starting with a few small words, then short sentences, finally moving onto books. The first memories I can recall of reading are in pre-k, on the classroom floor lying down on my stomach breaking down letters I had just learned turning them into words. This was the beginning of learning to read and soon write. Entering kindergarten we all had some experience reading, whether it be with our teachers, parents, siblings, or on our own. This important skill was soon used to teach us a new one, how to write. Although I don’t have an exact memory of learning to first write I do have memories of the first few times I did. My first word Karla the second word Franco. For a 5-year old who was so desperate to fit in with her older sisters who were far more advanced than me, this was exhilarating. I was excited to go home and show off my new skill, of course, this was nothing to them but I was still excited and eager to learn more. One memory I can clearly envision is sitting in my first-grade classroom, our assignment to write a fairytale. My story’s plot was a frightening rapunzel-esque story. There was of course a young princess trapped away in an evil witches tower, with a prince desperate for the beautiful princess’ love and eager to rescue her. However, instead of the classic happy-ending my younger self decided to add a gruesome twist and had the princess fall into a lake rather than the arms of her prince. The reason this is such a clear memory in my mind is that it was the first time I was corrected while writing. I made the mistake of trying to squeeze the rest of my sentence into the corner of the page rather than starting a new line. In my mind I was being resourceful, why start a whole new line for a few small words? Looking back now I understand why I was told this, but 6 year old me was too stubborn and believed that it was pointless. Another thing I recall during this time, as I’m sure many others can too is reading levels, the anxiety of having to go up to your teacher during the middle of class to read a passage determining our comprehension level. Although this wasn’t a competition but a simple test, some viewed it as one. A competition that would tell us who’s smarter? Who can read better? Despite it not being a competition I, unfortunately, viewed it as such, I wanted to get better. How did I achieve this? I read books all day every day until I was forced to see an optometrist. My eyes began to excessively tear while reading because I forgot to blink, distracted by whichever book I was reading at the time. After a prescription of eye drops and reading glasses, I continued my journey to becoming a better reader and writer. Now 12 years older, in college, still learning about reading and writing, improving myself day by day.