My Literacy Narrative: My Childhood

Stepchildren are in most cases associated with negativity, hatred, and lack of a sense of belonging. They are often made to feel like they are in the wrong place by the people that are supposed to be their family. However, for my case, it was an entirely different experience. Having been raised in a family of six and as the only stepchild would have, in normal circumstances subjected me to a lot of things like discrimination and bullying around the house. Luckily, my older siblings were the best, they had been brought up right and understood how important family was. By the time I was of age, to start learning how to read and write, one of my sisters stepped in became very influential in ensuring that I was well mentored and tutored.

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My literacy journey kicked off when I was about two and a half years old, a healthy energetic and playful child. My eldest sister Peggy was an elementary school teacher and basically what she wanted was for me to have a strong background in both writing and reading skills. I wasn't the talkative kind of kid, so it was simple for her to give me instructions and follow up to see if I had comprehended. Just like any other child, I liked being applauded and congratulated whenever I achieved anything, however small, even finishing my meals. Peggy used this trick to have me keep practicing how to read and write. What she would do is that when she left work, she would come home and have two-hour seat-down with me, teaching how to read charts and write down what I was reading. After that, if I had done it correctly, Peggy always had a gift for me, mostly candy or cake, two of my favorites.

When Peggy was at work, she left instruction to two of my siblings to guide me through the same. They were also so kind to me and kept reminding me of what Peggy would bring me in the evening if I worked hard with the exercises she had left behind. The thought of it all made me want to read and write more so that I could impress everyone. By the time I was four years old, I had made a lot of progress. I could read a whole paragraph of Basic English; I could also construct sensible sentences and write them down, though I would occasionally throw in a few grammar mistakes.

My parents were barely at home because of their jobs that kept them on the road all the time. Every time they came around, they were surprised at the progress I had made. Peggy would sometimes ask my sisters to take me to her school so that I could meet other school children and familiarize myself with the school environment. It helped increase the urge to join a school that I would sometimes cry when Peggy left in the morning for work and left me behind. Her influence towards my literacy was immense in ways that are unexplainable. She taught the basics involved in reading and writing, and most importantly she made me get the urge to learn more every single time. By the time I joined an elementary school, things were so simple for me because I knew the basics. Young children deserve a chance to understand how to read and write early in life, and there exists a no better way of achieving that other than having a mentor.