Reshma Balkaran Eng 11000-B

Reshma Balkaran

Literacy Narrative

Eng 11000- B

            I remember it clearly “bam!” The sound of the ruler hitting the dinner table and her voice echoing “No! twy agwen” as a cheeky smile covered her face.  Let me take you back on my journey, the journey of how I developed a love for reading and the driving force behind me wanting to read and be able to pronunciate words accurately.  As a child, while other children played with dolls and toys, my sister and I chose to play school teacher and student.  We used our stuffed animals and dolls as our students.  One day, my grandma was helping me with my reading homework for school but I absolutely refused to do my homework.  Why? You might ask, well the way I saw it was I could sit there and do boring old homework or go two rooms down the hall and play teacher with my sister who was patiently waiting for me.  She sat there and waited for me to begin our “school day.”  Grandma on the other hand was demanding that I not move “little girl, if you take your behind off that chair, you will be spending some quality time in the naughty corner.”  Knowing that grandma meant business, I stayed put but that did not mean that I did not fidget, whine, complain or get distracted by anything and everything.  At this point, my little sister was all out of patience and she came marching into the room, wanting to know what was taking so long, grandma explained that I was not allowed to move until I did my reading homework.  My sister lit up like a Christmas tree, that little head of hers had a wonderful idea; she now had a student, a real student!  Unfortunately for me, I was this student and I was terrified, let’s be honest, who wants to be the subject of a four year old on a power trip?  Plus, I have seen the way she treated her prior “students” and it was not pretty. 

            Everyday after school as I sat to do my homework, that little brat would walk into the room, holding her red pen, ruler and a notebook, while sporting the biggest grin on her face.  As I did my homework, she would walk around and patiently wait for me to ask grandma to go over my math problems with me or to help me with my reading.  If grandma mentioned that I made a mistake or mispronounced a word, she would walk up to the table and smack the ruler against it, walk back to her “desk” and scribble in her notebook with her red pen, followed by her teasing “if you don’t get it wight, I get your twoys and candy.”  As a six year old toys and candy was everything!  That was a threat that I took very seriously, I did not realize that she had no power over my toys and candy but I knew she was capable of hiding my toys while I was at school.  From that day on, after school I raced to the dinner table to do my homework and was eager to be correct, in order to do that I had to focus extra hard, during my free time, instead of watching television with my cousins I chose to read my older cousin’s Nancy Drew and Goosebumps series books.  While reading if I came across a word that I did not know how to pronounce instead of making up my own word or skipping it over, I made it my business to stop, slowly break the word apart, sound it out and repeat it until I got it right, if I did not know how to say it, I would run to my grandpa and ask him for help.  At the end of every page my sister and I would put on our own “reading bee” where I would stand against the wall and my grandma, grandpa and sister would be my audience and I would read to them.  After reading to them and receiving the whole fanfare my sister would always give me a star sticker, one of her m&m’s that she saved, followed by a big hug, grandma and grandpa at the end of every chapter would take us out for a special secret ice cream day.  That was all the motivation I needed to keep reading and being able to accurately pronounce words as well as spell them out by slowly pronouncing it.  To this day I share a love for reading and being able to help as well as encourage children to read as well as with their spelling and math because I always remember how great I felt when I had someone encourage and help me when I needed that extra push.

Dayenu Simon                

              Difference of class can create conflicts between the populations in a country where there are two official languages. In Haiti we speak Creole and French. Creole is considered as the native language of the population and French the official of the education system.  When the children are born in the middle class, they have the obligation to spend more time speaking French than their first one. Because French accent help to determine which class a person is. The mass population which is the lower class do not speak French fluently or cannot speak it at all. They can barely read or write it .

Before starting school, my mother had created my education pathway. Creole was not allowed in the house and every week we have to read a book. I was only allowed to go to school and church. It was so boring. But my mother believed this was the best thing that she could do. The better your French grammar and accent are, you have a better opportunity to progress. In the other words, more opened door you have to the highest class. The point of view of my mother kept us away from the Social-cultural aspect of the country.

After moving to U.S.A  on July 2012.  I joined a Haitian’s organization helping new immigrant from Haiti. This was where I started learning about life in America. Even though this organization was in America, we respected all the Haitian national holidays and we celebrate them together. The first celebration I participated was the creole celebration day (every November 28^th). The director of the organization wanted me to write down something in creole. Unfortunately I gave him a negative answer. I told him I could only write in French. As a poet, the only thing I could do was to say something but not to write down something because I didn’t know my creole grammar. I couldn’t even make any difference between what is only French and not creole.

Despite of that he asked me to do it. If it is not good he would correct it. I did my best to give a great poem. After reviewing my work he underlined several French words and grammar. Creole is English, also Spanish, African dialect, French and Haitian words. You have to know which words is allow from each of them. From this day I have learned a lot. I used to say maintenant that mean now. Now I know this word can’t be use in creole. The real creole is Kounya. I would not say anymore pincer or todre but I would say pichkannen. I would like to spend time learning to be a good creole writer. But I don’t have time for because I need to master English. That’s what I need now

From the action of my mom, I benefit of a great French accent. But at the same time I feel sometimes disconnected to the reality of my homeland .I don’t feel my-self part of my own culture.  I speak Creole as any other Haitian but I has never discovered my own society. Because I have never spend time reading book that has thing to do with home.  

             

    

Keano Visperas

ENG 11000 Sec. B

2/18/15

My Journey Towards the English Language

Everyone has their own story of learning a language for the first time be it learning a language to be able to communicate to others or having an extra language in their arsenal in case it is necessary. My very first experience with speaking English was during my elementary school years when a rule was enforced in our school to help us become more fluent in English. My second literacy experience with the English language was when I first came to America and continued school.

For as long as I can remember, what pushed me to learn English was an event that happened during 5th grade in elementary school back in the Philippines. One day during our english class, our teacher told us that the school is implementing a new rule which was that you had to speak english during school hours in order to better our english speaking skills. To make sure that this was enforced, teachers assigned a couple of students from each class that had the highest average in English to be patrols and take note of those who weren’t following the rules. Those who were put down in their list would be held back for a couple of minutes after Friday dismissal. There were talks amongst everyone in the school of rebelling by not talking at all when the monitors and teachers were around and passing notes or talking privately in Tagalog. However being the competitive person that I am, I saw this as a challenge to get the highest grade in English in our class which made me work harder in that class and start speaking English more. This was the starting point of my English speaking skills and I feel that without this event happening, I wouldn’t have been able to speak English as well or maybe even not at all today.

My next push towards improving my English speaking skills was when I came to New York to study here. When I started my school year in Immaculate Conception, it was very hard for me to fit in as it was a completely new environment for me. I would sit down by myself in the morning when waiting for the morning assembly and during recess when everyone was just talking with their friends. I remember groups of kids would always try to talk to me and get me to play with them until they heard me speak and realize that it was very hard to understand me through my thick accent. I said pronounced words differently from the way they would pronounce them and I would leave words out in my sentences which confused them. This along with the fact that I was still struggling with English words hindered me from socializing with my fellow classmates. For most of my 6th grade, I sat alone like this until a kid started talking to me and befriending me. He invited me to hang out with his group of friends and I was able to speak to them in my broken English and practice without feeling like I was being judged. As time passed my English along with my accent started improving until it was hardly noticeable and I was actually forming sentences that made a lot more sense. Even though my accent would sometimes come out randomly, I just laugh about it now and I can safely say that I sound like anyone who was born and raised here. Without the friends that I made during that time of my life, it would have been much more difficult to overcome the language barrier that I was faced against.

My elementary school helped begin my journey to speaking in English by teaching me the 

language itself and enforcing it to everyone to better their skills. The friends that I made in my first 

school year in New York helped me overcome the obstacle of speaking proper English and 

pronouncing words in an understandable way.

Counting the Pages

     Summer had just begun; the warmth overwhelmed everyone in the block. I had just moved to my father’s new home. It was simple and modest but I really enjoyed it. Sitting down on the wooden chair next to the small table I grabbed my summer reading assignment. Recalling to what my parents told me about the importance of learning English and how it is better for the youth to learn faster than the adults. His explanation was based on the idea than when you are an adult, it is difficult to learn a new language but not impossible since work is time consuming it makes it even less probable to learn it. Supporting his idea, my mother said that the younger learn it faster because we are exposed directly to the language and that my little brother and I should take advantage of it. Although I can still picture the first book I have ever read in English, it still brings me memories of the difficulties and the amount of time I had put, especially during that the summer.

     At this moment I was going through a phase and my only desire, the one I only wanted to have, was to be left alone. It was some sort of resentment, originally because my parents split up that summer and my dad chose to move onto another life, but he wanted to take us. This limited my ways of communicating to people, it created a mental restriction that I was conscious of, just because I wanted to talk to nobody and my anger was frustrating. Anyways, I had to go school, because I had been a very hard working student since my childhood years so improvement had to be a decision. At that moment I told my aunt, who was always willing to take me to places in order for me to get to know more about society and the way it is lived, to take me to the library. My aunt was really charismatic. I lived near Jackson Heights so she took me to the local public library. I couldn’t speak a word in English; however, I was able to understand some of it. I became somewhat dependent on the people that already knew how to speak English and this situation made me feel bad but it felt comfortable and safe.

     Searching through all the books from the summer reading assignment felt like an adventure. I had to go to many different branches to find little young adult books, kids’ novels and books. They were all checked out. The summer had three weeks to end but people already had taken the books out. Nevertheless, there was one last book that was still on list that was available, it was “Missing May” by Cynthia Rylant. Getting home after a whole day of spending time through the shelves of the library, I unpacked my book bag and took the book out of my bag. I remember examining it for a while and I started reading it without understanding anything till I fall asleep. My father and my aunt were busy working, I had no other choice but to ask my dad what I should do about it. His answer was concise, “Ask your stepmother”. Though, those words kind of felt a bit uncomfortable because I always rejected the idea of separate families but reality just seemed so important at this moment, I couldn’t reject the idea that it might be of some help. In some ways, literacy and my willing to learn helped me break this barrier I had towards other relationships and made me more comfortable into sharing my ideas and the reason why I was angry towards this concept of separation and divorce.

     From there on, I asked her every day until I finish the book, to go line by line together. The meanings of the words and the phrases were sticking in my memory and soon I was able to comprehend many scenarios presented in the book. My gratefulness had to be shown somehow, the book was finally getting easier for me to understand. However, it took me a while to adapt to this type of teaching. Line-by-line, being interpreted and translated to me from English to Spanish was for me the easiest method to connect the words and make up a good sentence out of those. Being such a small book, after my session of reading I would count the pages to see how much left for me to finish learn something and it never seemed to end. My process of learning literacy was different from others or maybe in some aspects, it was similar, the case is that I was able to experience the change within myself and approach a new level of understanding. Although I might say that now it kind of drove me away from my parents, that is the final goal, to become independent but preserving the root language which makes the old connections with family very welcoming and mutual. 

Manuel Sidney
English Composition 11000-B

How I became a better student

In my opinion there were many key factors that facilitated and contributed in both good and evil acts when I was a kid. As a kid I was not spoiled due to the fact that my parents had me when they were in their late forties. As a kid they were my fountain of support being that I depended on my parents in emotionally, socially and financially. I was terrible being that I was the baby and my brother and sisters were gone to college at the time that I was growing up; so they decided to be stern and somewhat soft depending on the situation.

My parents taught me everything you can imagine a parent could teach his child such as good manners, reciprocity, and affection. when the time came for me to start school of course it was the hardest being that I did not want to go to school. The first three months were outrageous I was upset, frustrated, and unwilling to contribute to anything that had to do with my class or classmates including my teacher. Eventually, I started to feel more comfortable at school and I also started to interact with my classmates and teacher.

 I do remember that both of my parents helped me to build a study habit by reading short stories on a daily basis, and also I was forced to read two short stories while I was on vacation. While I was going to school my parents expected no less than eight- five percent, which I found it to be extremely unfair and demanding. 

 All that my parents have taught me has served me as an adult due to the fact that it helped me to interface with the world around me; having to do with the most important factor that has to deal with human behavior that is called attitude awareness.

As of today, I feel that my parents did it with a purpose of building not only a good student, but also a better human being. To this day I hold myself to a higher standard not only do I try to maintain an average of eighty five percent, but at least an A average in all my classes.

My Literacy Learning Journey - James Huang

            It was near the end of my second grade school year when I was informed that I would be placed in an ESL class the following year. My English Language Arts grades were below average mainly because I was not reading on a second grade level. The fact that I was nearly a third grader and I still had not picked up a chapter book to read yet was pathetic. I was the kid that would always give up and end up reading shorter and easier books that were usually suited for first graders. At first, I wasn't worried about my grades or my class placement, but when I came to the realization that my teacher called my parents and informed them that I was going to become a third grader with a first grade reading level, I started to panic. I remember not wanting to go home that day. I was scared to face my mother, knowing that she would yell at me or maybe even beat me. I remember not being able to lift up my head as I held my mother's hand while we walked home together. My hands were soaked with sweat yet my mother still held on tight. I didn't say a word as we were walking home. There was dead silence between us, until I gathered up the courage to raise my head up to tell her that I was sorry, but once I looked at her, nothing came out of my mouth. My mother's eyes were glassy and watery. It was as if she was holding back her tears of disappointment. I didn't know what to say and I ended up not talking to her for the rest of the walk home. My mother and I did not speak to each other that night. The next morning, she acted as if nothing had happened and followed her usual daily routine of going to work and coming back to cook the family dinner. It was as if she had nothing to say about what happened.

            A couple of weeks later, school ended and summer vacation began. I was glad that school was over and that I ended up not failing and going onto the next grade. But, it still boggled my mind how my mother still did not speak of my ESL class that I was designated to take the following year. Next thing I knew, my mother came up to me on a Saturday and told me to come with her somewhere. She told me to bring my drawstring backpack and a water bottle in case I got thirsty. Once I walked out the door, I felt the blazing hot sun glare down at me. I quickly hurried behind my mother, following her, and hiding in her shade. I kept asking her where she was taking me, but she wouldn't answer. All she did was hold my hand tightly, just like the day she had found out about my grades. We walked for about 15 minutes from our home and there it was, standing tall and bold, The Brooklyn Public Library. It was my very first time at a public library, other than the small one in my school. Once I reached out and pulled open the library doors, I felt the fresh and cool air conditioned air rushing out against my skin and I also detected a peach-like fragrance that seemed as if it was coming from inside the library. I anxiously ran past the inner doors and stood at the center of the library lobby with my back facing the front desk. There were endless rows and columns of shelves, packed with books of every genre, reading level, and language. My mother slowly followed behind me as I went over to each and every shelf that I found interesting,  grabbing whatever book that piqued my interest, and placed it in her arms as if she was my personal shopping cart. As I handed my third book to her, I looked up. Her eyes were yet again a sleek, glassy texture, except this time, she was smiling. Even though at the end of the day, the majority of books that I had borrowed were Manga comics, there were also one or two chapter books. From then on, every Saturday afternoon, I could go to the library to borrow new books to read and to improve my reading levels.

            I wouldn't say reading and writing is my strong suit, but what I can say is that I really do enjoy reading and it can even be considered as a hobby of mine, even if most of what I read is Manga. Because of my mother's way of understanding me and her decision to bring me to the library in order to discover what I am able to read and what I would like to read, I was able to quickly bump up my English grades and pass my ESL class with flying colors. It was after realizing that reading was something a person gets better at, the more the person reads, that I began to read more and more. I felt accomplished. I began to understand my teachers a lot better. And not only did my reading level improve, my English language and English writing improved as well. My F's turned into A's and my 1's became 4's. Learning actually became fun the more I delved in literature. This marked the beginning of my literacy education and learning. 

Raven King- My Journey To Finding Myself

My Journey To Finding Myself

Parents teach their children everything they need to know for the future.  They teach you how to read, walk, and become your support system in this world where every man for themselves. If I had to put a finger on it, I would say that my parents had a major impact on my willingness to learn.  Not only because they wanted me to succeed, but because they wanted better for me than they did for themselves.  Being immigrants from Haiti and Barbados, they instilled in my siblings and I the importance of knowledge.  Instead of making learning a dreadful experience like learning math in school, they made it fun.  We would take trips to the museum on the weekends and my mom would tell me about the animals and exhibits about important people from our history.

I was always interested in where I came from and all aspects of my background.  Being from a multicultural family, it was hard to find myself and where it was I belonged.  My mom was born to a mother who was Haitian, Native American, and French, and a father who was Haitian and Chinese so she would tell me stories about the struggles she faced as a child. She came to the United States at the age of 8 years old with my grandmother and her 5 other children.  They didn’t speak English, only Creole and were forced to get accustomed to the public school system.  Because English wasn’t their first language, they were put into ESL classes that made them a target for bullying from their peers.

As a child, I was very inquisitive and wanted to know all the details in every situation I was in.  My mom would tell me stories about her parents and her childhood, but I never felt like I could relate.  It even came down to the way my family looked; my mom’s hair was a different texture than mine, hers would curl but stay long and silky and mine would grow out like Diana Ross.  When it was time to comb my hair it took more effort to straighten my ringlets than her waves.  I would cry and fuss on Sundays because I knew what was coming, it was time to wash y hair and I couldn’t figure out what the difference was.  So this curiosity is what started my love for reading and exploring because I needed to know more.

Literacy was so important to me as a child.  I always wanted to know about everything around me.  I love learning, because it not only has a way of teaching me about myself but the world that surrounds me. Being the first born, my parents would keep me entertained with books.  When I got to about the 5^th grade, I would read more and more books about history and the beauty of African Americans.  Before, I was unsure of my features and wanted to look more like my mom but as I got more into reading it all became clear.  I would see pictures and read great stories about women who looked like me and who were recognized for their greatness.  It was important for me to understand that there wasn’t just one standard of beauty and I needed to see that my version existed as well. For me to know where I was going, I had to know where I came from.

In school we only learned what the teachers wanted us to know, not what we needed to know.  I wanted to learn more than what we were taught in class.  The teachers would talk about the same inventors over and over again, but they never mentioned the ones that really made a difference.  From the invention of the dry cleaning, perms, hair straighteners, it was always as if we only got half of the story when it came to history.  Our textbooks didn’t say much and only continued to explain the lack of information we learned in class.  So I started asking more questions to figure out the missing pieces of this information.  Because you see, that’s how my brain works; it puts things together like parts of a puzzle.  When I got older crossword puzzles became my best friend.  They would be my way of distracting myself from the outside world.

It took me a while to see that it was my job to learn the things I wasn’t being taught in school.  I had to take responsibility for the knowledge I gained in order to pass it on to future generations.  Questioning myself and what I knew led me on a journey to finding who I was by learning about those who came before me.  The history of African Americans and all people of color was getting lost in translation and people were becoming oblivious to that. So literacy my eyes to what I needed to know. 

A Path Set Forth By Another

A Path Set Forth By Another  

 I am not the first to go to college in my family and I'm certainly not going to be the last. From the adults to the kids graduating high school, there is not one uneducated soul in the bunch. Ever since immigrating from Jamaica twenty years ago, my family has seen education as the primary factor in their success My grandmother has twelve children. Each of them has at least 2 or more kids of their own. The number of graduations I've attended in my brief stint on this planet surely makes my head spin. Each of my relatives going off to college has truly been and honor and certainly an inspiration, most importantly my sister.   

Technically she is only my half sister, but what she has done for me is surely beyond the partial genetics we share. I didn't meet her until she was just beginning college. She lived at home, commuting to Mercy College in Dobbs Ferry. I would watch her as she studied for multiple tests, scanning through the dead trees scattered across her bed. The countless books she had to digest class by class, semester by semester. She would eventually have to buy her own bookshelf to hold all the books she would be using. This is something I am realizing that I should probably invest in as well.  

 As she went through college I noticed how her vocabulary developed from what I could understand to a language I have yet to learn. Seeing as she pursued not only her bachelor's degree, but also a master's and doctorate as well, the language barrier between us only grew. It seemed clear during this time in my life that if I wanted to truly know and converse with my sister that I would have to educate myself.  

I started educating myself to better understand my sister when I was 8 years old and my mother had gotten me an Oxford dictionary as a birthday present. An unfortunate and unwelcomed gift but it was for the best I suppose. The dictionary went weeks without being opened until I finally cracked it open. I was watching TV when a character said a word I had not heard in my days until that moment. Although I can't remember the character nor the word, I reached for the dictionary and there it was: the word I longed to understand in black and white lettering. From that point forward I was hooked. Without hesitation I would reach for the dictionary for any and every reason I could find. I would read a book and keep the dictionary at my side just in case. This made me feel easier about reading books above my grade level and made talking more powerful when I spoke to my sister. It became a joke as I got older. Whenever one of us decided to flex our vocabulary muscles, the other would say "OOOO! SAT word of the day?" and we laugh every time.     

My sister often spent most of her time in the living room where we kept the computer. She would bring her blanket and pillow while she comfortably and rather intensely went through her assignments. She would go days without sleeping in her own bed, flipping over the cushions of the couch to make sure she did not leave a dent. She was stressed, on edge, struggling, and yet she still got through it all. Even as I struggled she always had words of encouragement for me, "You ain't seen anything yet kiddo". They're not the usual inspiring words but they did make me realize that I would have to become better as I progress, not hope for everything to become easier. Her words came from experience. She had two jobs and went to college. Often coming home just to sleep before heading off to a fresh day with a tired mind. That did not make her weak but it made her stronger mentally. Looking back at it, I'm here trying to balance one job and work and she managed to balance two jobs and graduate on time.    

I've always felt the need to follow my sister's footsteps. Partly because she inspired me, but mostly because I felt the pressure to do so. Being her youngest and only son, I was and to regret still am treated by my mother as though I still don a Mickey Mouse onesie. For years it seemed as though my mother wanted me to strive to be my sister. The actuality of the matter is that she wanted me to succeed as my sister had. It took me a while to understand it but I finally did. I wasn't meant to follow my sister's footsteps but rather walk parallel to them. I am meant to make my own path leading to success. Having my sister around as she built a life for herself made me put things into perspective. My family's emphasis on education truly transformed me. It made me retain the words and topics I have learned instead of only browsing them enough to get a good grade. Words are no longer empty to me but full of meaning and intention. And I owe this all to my sister's footsteps that I now walk along.