Literacy Narrative
It was a warm morning in late summer
when I arrived at school on my first day of third grade. Not only was it the
first day for all of the kids arriving at Pearson Elementary but I had just
transferred over from Silveridge Elementary and I did not want to leave.
Pearson elementary was a smaller elementary school but still had a good amount
of students. Getting ready the hour before I cautiously put on my red long
sleeve and dark blue jeans with my hair in two pigtails. I had to make sure
everything was perfect so that the kids in my new school would like me. in I rolled through the front doors with my
pink roller backpack and white light up sketchers. Those shoes were the coolest
all up until 4th grade when it was too childish to have lights on
your shoes. I walked through the hallways to my classroom with other kids
rushing all around me. Some younger some older. Tall, short, blonde, brunette
kids everywhere. I finally get down the hallway to room four where Mrs. Turkey
greeted me with a warm smile and a quiet greeting. She directed me to my seat
at a table near the window that was really ^ tables all collected together in
one group. There was already one other girl there. She had shoulder length ash
blonde hair and chubby cheeks. She wore a blue striped long sleeve and some
light blue boot cut jeans. Her hair had a butterfly barrette to keep her bangs
at bay and it sparkled in the sun shining through the window. I sat down in my
seat and I glanced over the table. In the top right corner was a name card
tapped to the desk with a graphic pencil design and in a beautiful hand written
text the name “Jessica”. I quickly made a glance across the tables to read the
other girls name tag with my mediocre reading skills and upside down her name
plate spelled “Rachel”. Looking up from the table tops I scanned the room
taking in these new surroundings. There were about 6 table groups and on the
wall adjacent to me was a big white board. Across the room from the board was
the teacher’s desk where Mrs. Turkey stood close by greeting children as they
walked in. She wore a dark brown pencil skirt and a light green Sweater. Her
grey tinted long blonde hair glowed in the reflected sunlight and her tanned
skin was slightly weathered like she had spent years in the sun. Across the
room from her was the big window to the outside world and under the window were
about 8 computers. Around the entire room were colored Christmas lights strung
along the ceiling bringing a warm happy feeling to the room. Being brought back
to the present, Mrs. Turkey made her way from the hallway door in the back to
the front of the room. She greeted the class by introducing herself and that
was the start of class.
After introducing herself she had
each kid stand up and tell the class their name and something that they like to
do. When it came to be my turn I stood up and introduced myself, “Hello my name
is Jessica and I play softball”. Once the collective clapping stopped and the
next kid began their introduction I sat in silence and observed the other
children and their mini speeches. After the last kid was done with all took a
group trip to the library where we picked up our first book, Charlotte’s Web.
The library was a trip outside the main building, up the short amount of
stairs, and off into the smaller building that held all the older kid classes,
the office, and of course the library. Walking in the library for the first
time at this new school I was astonished at the difference between this library
and the library at my old school. This library had tall walls and the books
covered the surroundings of the walls. There were tables all in the middle of
the distant area where you could sit and study but right in the vicinity of the
door was split between a lounge area and the checkout desk. The library was
warm and there was a slight smell of musk coming from all of the old books. The
librarian greeted us all and explained the layout of the library, the simple
procedure of checking out books, and her love of the library. Admiring her
dedication to her job I checked out my copy of Charlotte’s web and walked back
out the door, down the stairs, and back to my little third grade classroom. Coming back to the room we all sat in our
seats and opened our books to the first page. Mrs. Turkey directed us to the
first page where she read aloud the first paragraph. But after the first
paragraph she suddenly stopped and looked around the room. “Okay class now who’s
turn is it now?” Mrs. Turkey glanced around the room waiting for a child to
raise their hand. After the children took multiple rounds of just looking
around and around and around at each other Mrs. Turkey announced we were going
to play the popcorn game where she would pick the first child to read and then
they would pick the next and then the next would pick the next and on it went. Using
a game was a good way to get the children to want to read as a group. But young
Jessica was not the most outgoing child and she was not looking forward to
having to read aloud to the entire class of twenty-five. It finally came to be
my turn and even though my comprehension skills had been enhanced my speaking
skills were not. I struggled and struggled to get the words out but it was an
agonizing minute of messing up word after word. I was so embarrassed by the end
that I decided this activity would be my least favorite of all time. Another
thing that came from this new found hatred of reading aloud was the problem of
perfection. I knew that I had the reading skill needed or this activity for the
fact that I could not express that and that the other children probably thought
I was illiterate killed my small child soul. From there on I just could not
complete an activity unless it was perfect. Which meant I was never happy with
reading aloud advanced books and when it came to writing activities I hated it.
I had so many words in my brain that taking the extreme length of time to
organize them was not a possibility and so I was just always upset with my
work. It made me not a very willing child and I hatted English classes. As an 18-year-old
now I still struggle with perfection issues but the sad part is that I’ve
learned not to care. With that not caring comes a consistent disappointment in one’s
self and I would rather work through a science or math question than sit and
struggle with what to say. But also with the maturity of being an adult now I
have realized that if you just take that extra second to sit and get things
done is much better than not doing anything at all.
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