It is interesting to reflect on the experiences that contributed to my literacy—many of them I took for granted or didn’t fully understand or appreciate their significance at the time. I suspect many of us take our literacy for granted. At first, the process of learning to read, write, and learn seems like an organic or intuitive process. Education, however, is the main contributor to literacy, and not everyone is fortunate enough to experience it. Recently, I heard a statistic that indicated about 20 percent of high school seniors are functionally illiterate when they graduate. Literacy, then, becomes a skill that we—as graduate students in English and as teachers of first year composition—need not take for granted. By reflecting on my experiences growing up, I hope to take the lessons learned and apply them to my career as a writer and teacher.
As a child, I was constantly around words; my mom (being the teacher elementary school teacher she is) was always reading me books, encouraging me to write, and pushing me to use my imagination whether it was through writing, reading, drawing, or painting. My immersion to the written and spoken word laid a foundation for my eventual love of reading and writing. By the time I got to elementary school, I was writing full-fledged short stories in my journals or assignments for class. My elementary school teachers commented on how ambitious I was when it came to writing. When I got to high school, I always excelled in my English classes. I had various teachers ask me if they could keep a copy of my paper as an example. I didn’t think much of it at the time. After elementary school, though, my love for writing and reading waned until I got to college.
Although I did not rediscover my interest and semi-natural ability to write until college, I had a significant English teacher my junior year in high school that reignited my interest in writing, reading, and English in general. I just didn’t know it at the time. His name was Mr. Keber, and it was his first year teaching high school English. He had long, sandy blond hair that came down to his shoulder blades. He was skinny, short, hippie-like, and, most importantly, on fire for his students. From the first day of class, I knew that this class (my last required English class in high school) was going to be different than any other English class I’d had before. Lest I forget to mention that I seriously hated Mr. Keber’s class. Not only did he require us to actually read the assigned novels (by giving us quizzes every day about the most minute details in each chapter) but he pushed us to think and move outside our comfort zones. His teaching methods were unorthodox. One day, we came to class to find him sitting at his desk reading. He wouldn’t talk to us nor did he tell us what to do. Yet, on the walls were notable quotes from Emerson and Thoreau telling us to think for ourselves, embrace life, and conquer our goals. Another time, he made us annotate Bob Dylan lyrics. His enthusiasm and desire to push his students to succeed was annoying at the time, but I learned and grew more during his class than I did most of high school.
When I got to college, I took the assigned English classes just because I had to. At the end of each semester, I got a letter in the mail from the English department saying that my professor recommended that I pursue a degree in English. After I got about three of these letters and after switching my major three times, I decided to seriously consider getting a degree in English, and then I decided on professional writing. Building on the skills I learned in Mr. Keber’s English class and my experiences reading and writing throughout my educational career, I came to realize that reading and writing are skills paramount to any profession and that being a good communicator will help me out in whatever career I pursue. I’m grateful for the role models I had growing up who pushed me to do more than I knew I could. I can only hope to be a similar role model one day.