Literacy History

I can state with certain clarity that there has never been a period of my life in which books and reading fulfilled no purpose. I have descended from a family of readers and, thus, it feels as if a passion for the written word is simply ingrained in who I am.

While I can recall being taught by method of phonics the actual structures of words and the sounds that each letter makes, those are infrequently the memories upon which I reminisce. Some of my earliest recollections pertaining to books are of car trips and cassette tapes playing off the sounds of The Hobbit as we drove across the country. I was always entranced by the different voices the narrator created to add a believable quality to the tale being spun right within the confines of the car. I could experience adventure and excitement without even leaving my seat. Such knowledge was invaluable and provided a delightful means of escape in the ensuing years. In other words, reading for me, personally, has always been steeped in feelings of fondness and pleasure: an activity to enjoy and a pastime to seek out when the world seems dull and drained or merely far too taxing.

            As I grew up in a family of readers, both libraries and bookstores were environments in which I thrived and flourished. However, while such settings were commonplace as I aged, reading material was never scarce in my home and, accordingly, a bookshelf brimming with novels, texts, and a number of other volumes could be espied in nearly every room. It is a diversion, which has continually been encouraged both with family and among my peers at school, and I have discovered enjoyment meshed in between hundreds of different book covers, though the tales I prefer tend to be fictitious.

            While, reading for my own satisfaction is an activity I have always delighted in, it has never been a pursuit I desired to have forced on me. There were moments throughout my schooling were literature was made to seem more like a chore to be overcome than a venture to savor. Occasionally the assignments associated with reading were made to be tedious and mere tracks of whether I had completed the required pages, an action I would have accomplished without the unnecessary addition of apparent busy work. Although I did not constantly agree with the way in which reading was implemented into daily life at school, this did not mean it was an interest I shied away from at home.

            Due to my own mostly positive experiences, reading has served as a worthwhile exploit and one in which I gained a broader perspective of the world and the others that occupy it alongside me. The tales I consumed created entire new worlds for me to explore, and it was a distraction from which I never tired. Each story allowed a freedom from the bounds of my own imagination alone and provided a consistent source of learning and growth. Through the utilization of my own exposure and acquaintance with the written word, I hope I can impress upon others, including any future students I might have, the significance of learning to read and the overwhelmingly beneficial impact it has the potential to have upon one’s life.