My Writing Experience

A person can read and write a great deal in one day whether they realize it or not. Whether it be texting a friend or reading a textbook for a certain class, you are reading and writing constantly and a daily basis. What surprised me the most about the reading and writing that I did on Sunday was how much I am reading and writing on my phone. Whether I am texting to coordinate plans with a friend for the night or reading a random article I saw while reading a Facebook news feed, I am constantly reading and writing on my phone. I never considered it reading and writing when I used my phone, I just saw it as looking at my phone. Just staring at this four-inch screen for some sort of entertainment. What also surprised me was how much we read without noticing it. You can walk down State Street and you will be constantly reading by looking at stores, posters, or even words on a bus that is passing by. Our eyes and brains are looking at and reading words all the time.

During my past writing experience, I have struggled with formulating and initiating interesting points of discussion, grammar, and transitions. I have often sat down to work on a paper and found myself completely drawing a blank on anything interesting to write about. Whether I am given a specific prompt or general topic to discuss, I constantly struggle with finding a starting point. Once I do, I become too focused on trying to create a poetic sounding paper, rather than focusing on the main discussion points. In some ways, focusing on making my papers poetic have added detail and depth to my writing. However, this frequently distracts me from my papers main theme. One of my biggest drawbacks with writing has always been proper grammar usage.

In summary, I felt as if I changed after the fourth grade. Like video games, I could be in a fantasy and pretend I was actually in the hero’s position. I could be a part of a story. This contest of literacy competition started a passion of reading books for me. Now that I’m older if I ever want to escape the real world after having a long hard stressful day all I have to do is crack open a book a let the adventure begin. Even though my teacher never followed through on her promise of a prize I was rewarded with something so much more Important, a burning passion for

Ripp points out in this article is the importance of keeping the students interested and engaged in books. For any number of reasons, such as trying to fit in or juggling priorities in general, students often completely give up on reading for enjoyment, and, as Mrs. Ripp mentions, “There is no year that we cannot lose a reader.” In essence, the point she is trying to get across is that students of any age are prone to developing a negative attitude or outlook towards reading. For some students, this might come as a result of being a struggling reader, while for others it may be as simple as not knowing how or what to read for pleasure. Where these issues are concerned, Mrs. Ripp has taken it upon herself to instill a new – or renewed – love and passion for diving into a good

George R. R. Martin once proclaimed, “A reader lives a thousand lives”, which means that I have lived more than my terse eighteen years on this earth. From my parents reading me the classic Goodnight Moon every night, to my three-year-old self loving If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and Chrysanthemum (which I strongly felt was written after me), I had an exemplary start when it came to the world of literature. From this introduction, I continued to immerse myself in books while other kids’ interest in books faltered once the pages were no longer filled with pretty pictures and enormous letters. My love and fascination, however, only grew stronger over time and as my skills advanced, I started to go through books so fast that I needed to buy five at a time in order to keep myself entertained by their stories. I have enjoyed my

Throughout my life, the English language has acted as something much more than a communicative tool. Because I emigrated from Germany to the US when I was almost five years old, my adoption and ongoing usage of the English tongue has connoted a change of cultural, and even personal, identity in my life. I did not know one word of English when I arrived in the US in 2004, and so, as I learned English, thus I became familiar with the new life I would live on the other side of the Atlantic. I quickly became fluent in English and entered public school after one year of preschool. I remember that, for the first hundred days of kindergarten, I did not utter one word. This was not due to a lack of English ability, but rather to my shyness and the fact that I was still acquainting myself to the norms of existence in the US. Following this, my shyness

Suddenly, enjoying a book was not enough anymore. I had to analyze it and uncover hidden meanings. I had to pull out every metaphor and flip through the pages for similes and character descriptions. My reading pace slowed because I had to stop on every other page to mark something down or highlight a specific word. I often told my mother that I probably would have enjoyed reading required books more if they were not assigned for school. Annotation and analyzations and the tests that came with them became a hindrance to my reading. In the following years, I would have to read for my English classes over the summer, I did not get to. My joy and sheer excitement for reading had plummeted severely. I still enjoyed the act of reading itself but with the school’s required literature, in addition to receiving more difficult homework in other classes, I began running out of time to read for fun. The term “reading for fun” should not exist, because there is no reason a child should not have fun reading, even if it is for a school assignment. It seemed, and still seems to me, that teachers were more concerned with making their class challenging than how much their students could truly benefit from the course. School is, and should be, a place of learning, but learning should not be equivalent to completing an assignment for the sole purpose of passing

Not only does it add fresh insights to students daily life, but also gives them the opportunity to learn from others. Dr. Seuss once wrote, “The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you will go”(Seuss 3). Novels shed light on riveting topics and radical ideas. They enrich students’ minds and provide a concrete basis for new ideas. Moreover, literature elicits gripping responses to unanswered questions. While many students are oblivious to the misfortune in other countries, readers actively search for solutions to these problems. Additionally, authors inscribe lessons and experiences within texts. Readers absorb this knowledge and apply it to life. A philosopher once said, “A smart man learns from his mistakes. A wise one learns from the mistakes of others.” While reading, one can observe and internalize the errors of the characters. Through this process, avid readers are capable of successfully maneuvering through life’s hurdles without a scratch. In high school, mistakes can be detrimental to one’s triumphs. Minor and miniscule errors may lead to catastrophic results. Perhaps, by avoiding the errors made by others, one can journey through life unscathed. Thus, literature plays a critical role in the lives’ of high school

It had never occurred to me before that a story was more than its plot, or that anyone would ask me “Why did the author write that way?” instead of “What did the author write?”. The question of intention recreated me as a reader. I used to think that I was so important I might as well have invented the words in a story as I read them, but in reality, every page in a book is a result of conscious choices made by the author. Once I understood this, the idea of a book changed for me. Eighth grade was the first time I made distinctions between things that I had read and stories that were important to me. This process became the foundation of the type of reader I continue to be today, consequently, introspection, rather than attention, is the center of my reading experience.

The inevitable had happened, I was demanded to read. Little antisocial human being launched into a world of, at first, unwanted requirements of learning how to read. While words and literacy were forced into my mind, I had gruesomely begun the adventure to enjoy and accept the art of literature. Later however, my hopes and dreams were crushed to pieces by a gruesome teacher with an interesting form of a so called “grading policy.”

Starting to learn how to write is probably one of the hardest things for a kid to learn. Although it looks really easy now that I´m an adult, I look at my own children and see how hard it is for them, to write. When I was a baby, my mom used to read me a lot stories full of colors and images. All those stories helped me understand more about my life and myself. I believe that by my mom reading to me was how I started learning how to write. Since reading and writing are related, when I started learning my vowels and the alphabet it helped me comprehend where those stories my mom used to read me were coming from. This is how basically I started learning how to

Reading was one of my favorite activities as a child (and still is). Books took me to other realms and made me experience feelings I did not know boiled inside of me. Checking out books from libraries was one of the few luxuries I had as a child. It made me happy to read, and when I discovered writing, it made me even happier to write. As I grew, I learned that someone else’s words were captivating and moving me. Books became more than words on a page. They became someone’s thoughts and ideas, someone’s passion that were translated into spellbinding stories. There was one book in particular that had engraved the value of writing in my mind. It was a story about a boy who lived and his name was Harry Potter. After being forced to read the first installment of the Harry Potter series in third grade, I was oozing with wonder and astonishment at what JK Rowling had made me feel.

First things first, I’m not like most kids. In my seventeen years of life, I have never once fallen prey to the typical student mindset of “man, I hate reading.” The story of my life as a reader has nothing to do with learning to appreciate what literature has to offer. It’s a story of me learning how to accept myself, as well as being inspired to better myself, with the help of books.

I remember when writing use to be the struggle for me. I would take hours staring at a piece of paper or computer screen thinking about what to write and not knowing what to write about. I even remember somethings ending up not

It seemed like a regular high school day as I walked to my American Literature class in eleventh grade. I was still in the process of waking up even though I had been up for almost four hours already. I had earphones in my ears because I’ll take music over some annoying underclassmen yelling anyday. I walked into class a minute after the bell rang. I didn’t care and neither did my teacher. It was the last class before lunch so nobody really cared. A few minutes later, class started and my teacher announced that she was assigning a book report. My silent reaction spoke a thousand words to my friend sitting next to me as she laughed and said, “Why do you hate reading?” A number of people had asked me this question, but there was something