Literacy Narrative

Ethan Stella-Mackie

September 13th, 2021

Professor Labbe

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My Literacy Narrative

When I was younger, reading was an activity that I thoroughly enjoyed. I read many different genres that I found interesting or fun to read. Some of my first memories of the books I enjoyed as a kid were multiple poem books written by Shel Silverstein. I was too young to read these books by myself, but my mother would read me a few of the poems each night before she put me to sleep. These books came out in the late ’80s and early ’90s, which was when she was growing up. Coincidentally, she read many of these books and similar ones when she was a kid. Of course she really enjoyed sharing these books with me, and was happy that I loved them just as much as she did. Some of the titles I remember her reading me were A Light in the Attic, The Missing Piece, and Falling Up. I loved to look at the illustrations, especially in the book The Giving Tree. This was my mom and I’s favorite by far and must have read it to me a hundred times. It had a special place in our hearts because it really represented us as a family, her being a single mother and all. The book is about giving all you have for someone, even when nothing is left. She was always there for me during my childhood, and there’s no way I’d be who I am today without her.

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As I grew older, my love of reading stayed with me. I credit my mother for this, as she introduced me to reading so early and made me love it as much as she does. Especially through grade school, I remember spending most nights reading in my bed under a dim desk lamp far past my bedtime. I was fully capable of ripping through one of these books in a night. Of the books I can remember, the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series, as well as the Big Nate series, were some of my favorites. I can recall reading those books constantly, bringing them almost everywhere that I went. Days that we had library class easily became one of my favorite days. I would spend the entire period looking for new books to check out and bring home with me. From these library days, I found a series that I love and cherish to this day, especially since it improved how well I read. One day, I checked out a Calvin and Hobbes comic book. I found these books extremely entertaining, but with one small catch. The comics are aimed at kids, but the main character, Calvin, often speaks in an oddly articulate way despite being a child. He would use words I couldn’t begin to understand. For a while, I would skip over these words, pretending I understood them for some reason. Eventually, this made reading these books less enjoyable and more frustrating. One day instead of ignoring the phrases I couldn’t understand, I decided to make myself understand. I went on the family computer to get an understanding of what Calvin was actually saying. I would take little sticky notes with synonyms of the words I didn’t get and put them in the book. This is one reason why I credit these books for improving my vocabulary and reading comprehension at such a young age. It helped me understand more complex sentence structure and advanced diction that I couldn’t comprehend before. This made me well-spoken and an efficient reader, which placed me in advanced reading groups in class.

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As I got towards my teenage years in middle school, I started getting assigned readings as homework, as you often start to do at that age. I no longer had nearly enough time to read what I desired to read, with school, sports, and homework starting to get in the way. Reading became more of a chore than it was enjoyable, and in hindsight that’s extremely disappointing. The readings got harder and took even more effort to read. They took more than surface-level comprehension to fully understand the complete storyline. It was no longer placing sticky notes in a comic book, it was full-blown confusion and the feeling of being overwhelmed. Oftentimes I resented reading so much that I would forgo reading entirely, and accept that I wasn’t going to do too well on that week's reading quiz or essay. My early middle school career grades reflected these choices, and needless to say my mother wasn’t too happy. I wasn’t taking school seriously, and I was nearly as inquisitive as I once was.  

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I continued this way until I got to 8th grade, still not taking my schooling as seriously as 

should’ve been. I was about to be in high school, and my teacher's lectures on how it would be a “rude awakening” started to weigh on me. It was still difficult to find the motivation to put forth effort, and my bad choices continued to run on. The school year had started the same way as past years, however, it took just one conversation with a teacher I admired for me to change the way I thought about reading and my school work. In this school year I had an English teacher, Mrs. Washay. She was a teacher that I developed an extremely strong connection with. At this age, I was generally intelligent. I always got decent grades but nothing stellar, always bare minimum effort. She took notice of the way that I thought about her class and my education in general. A couple of days after turning in an essay, she asked me to stay after class to talk with her. Being the ball of anxiety I was at the time, I thought I had done something wrong.

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“Hey Ethan, can come talk to me for a second?” she asked as the rest of the class filtered out.

“Yeah of course, can I ask what this is about?” I responded nervously, still considering that I may be in trouble for something I couldn’t even think of.

“I read your essay that you turned in on Friday.”

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The piece in question was an essay I wrote on police brutality and social injustices. I had put a lot of effort into this paper as the result of my mother being upset over my grade in the class. She most likely threatened me with some punishment which now escapes my memory. I did a lot of good research, actually taking notes on my topic and planning out the essay instead of writing it in one shot. I thought it was a great paper, and I couldn’t imagine why she’d want to talk to me.

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“Ethan, this paper is the best piece of work you’ve turned in all year.”

“Really? Thank you Mrs. Washay, that means a lot.”

“Do you see what happens when you put effort into your work? You are a great writer, but you need to put forth effort, and have confidence in your ability to write.”

This conversation really struck a chord with me. Someone who I respected gave me a compliment on something that I made, and was proud of turning in. This feeling of satisfaction stayed with me for some time, and I found myself chasing this feeling more. I started to treat my classes with higher priority than I once had. More importantly, I began taking a great amount of pride in everything that I turned in. I wanted every piece to reflect my best work, and only that. As a bi-product of this event, I also took my class readings more seriously. I started to enjoy learning again and being inquisitive as I once was. Reading became part of my life again, with a new desire to explore non-fiction texts.  

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I'm extremely thankful for Mrs. Washay and her contribution to my education. I treated her as a mentor for the rest of my middle school career, and even into my high school years. I made sure that I saw her on graduation day and thanked her for the impact she made on me. She changed my view of education and told her I wouldn’t have accomplished what I did without her. She made me love reading and learning again with just one simple conversation. I never had a teacher in the past pull me aside just to compliment something that I created. She gave me the confidence I needed in life, especially in a time where I felt more lost than ever.