And even before that my mother would read to me every night before I go to sleep. She would have this big book filled with Mother Goose nursery rhymes and would read that along with some other books. When I started to talk my parents taught me the alphabet which seemed pretty easy. It wasn’t long before I could say the entire alphabet on my own. The next thing my parents taught me was to put the letters and sounds together to
I believe that I came out of that class with an A, all because of my teacher. I know that I should put all of my effort into my work regardless of the teacher or the teaching style, but I was just immature back then and did not realize how it would hurt me in the future. In the eight grade, I had an assignment to read a book called The Battle of Jericho, but I did not want to do it. I figured I would just skim through the book and tell the teacher I read it, until I received a piece of paper which explained that I must type an essay about the book. I had to read it now, so I told myself to just do it and get it done, but I had to go get the book first.
In the documentary, “A Class Divided” filmed in 1970, a third grade teacher in Iowa named Jane Elliot did something that I felt was so amazing, during a time period that most might consider risky. She divided her class by the color of their eyes and came up with very clever ways to make them feel discriminated against. Watching the short film, about how she taught her class the lesson of discrimination, which was prompted by the death of Martin Luther King, is just fascinating! At first I was writing down everything I could to be able to reference my notes later, to write this paper. Suddenly I just stopped writing and really got into the lesson as though I was in the classroom with them.
Both Baby and Anne are very smart, but Baby isn’t recognized for it. Instead she is put into a practical learning class. “I didn’t bother explaining that I’d been on the honor roll at my last school. That I had to go to a program for kids who had learning disabilities made me sad beyond words.” (Page 202, O’Neil) Baby deserved more, considering she was on the honor roll. But because she had to go to a detention centre, the social worker basically forced her into going to this class.
My second experience was when a high school student bullied me. While I was at my locker the female student who was much taller and older than me walked up to me and told me to move out of her way. By being nervous and timid I did what the girl said and gathered my books and left my locker. When I got home I told my mom how horrible my day was and told her that I didn’t want to go back to school
When I was in high school I experienced a bad teacher in English, then that following year I had an excellent English teacher. The bad English teacher kept to the same old ways of teaching by requiring us to memorize boring vocabulary words, and work out of the Text book to learn grammar. We would walk in and she would tell the assignment and then we would barely hear her speak throughout the remainder of the classroom period. My classmates and I dreaded going to this class everyday and most of us had very poor grades resulting from
Francine Prose states, "Traditionally, the love of reading has been born and nurtured in high school English class." I disagree with this statement only because of my own personal experience. My love of reading was stimulated by my own passionate mother who instilled in me from a very early age that reading books frequently is important for any educated individual. I was very startled to find that other children weren't as lucky as me, relying primarily on their school education to teach them how to read and to love reading. By the time that we were in middle school, the majority of my friends felt that reading was a chore and turned their noses up at any books I'd suggested to them.
With Ms. Potts, I first wrote the letters of the alphabet more so, my name. Throughout my years as a student,reading and writing has never been a favorite of mine, but it is continuously developing. From the start of kindergarten to present day, I will unveil to you my history as a reader and writer. My very first time grasping the sounds of words occurred the same moment I held a pencil in my hand with a big tan paper lying on the table. It was my name the teacher was directing me to write on the paper.
The one book that stood out to me was the book my mom use to read to me. All I could think of was to read more new books with my mom. I was so excited to begin to learn. Every day I remember coming home and telling my parents all the amazing stories I listen to in class. Even thou at the time I didn’t know they were called Nursery Rhymes until I began learning more about it in my school.