Kim Baker English 1101 September 17th, 2013 Hidden Literacy

I Some of my very first memories were of watching my mother. She was there through all of the diaper changing, potty training, tricycle riding, and even Band-Aid applications. According to psychological theories, we learn by watching others around us. Proving this theory, came all of my next memories that involve diaperchanging my baby dolls, putting stuffed animals on a bike and pushing them down the driveway, and trying to balance my Band-Aid-covered teddy bear on my potty training seat without letting him fall in. Trying to imitate all of the ways that I was taken care of by her. If my friends ever complained of being hurt or sick I wouldnt hesitate to play doctor and imitate everything my mom had ever done for me. I would assess what was bothering them, try to give my best diagnosis based on my elementary education, and tuck them into bed and cater to their needs of food or water or medicine. Thanks to my moms nurturing care that she gave to me while I was growing up, I was subconsciously longing to be a mother figure to someone (or something) else. But as soon as I was old enough to realize that I was acting just like my mother, I quickly began to reject any character traits that made me act anything like an adult. I began having my own thoughts and ideas on what it meant to be

responsible, safe, and healthy, and anything that my mom said to counteract these thoughts, I let fly right over my head.

II Most kids hate being treated like a child. For me, it was the opposite. When my parents started telling me that I had to do my own laundry, and make my own appointments, I always thought they were just lazy. I was 12 the first time I called to make an appointment for a hair cut. I would throw tantrums, begging my mom to just call the doctor and make me an appointment to get my cold checked out. Im busy Kimberly; youre going to have to do it yourself. You need to start learning how to do things on your own. I hated when she said that. I didnt even know basic algebra and Im making meals, washing clothes, and scheduling appointments for myself. I thought those were all parents jobs. Little did I know, it was part of the job to teach me how to do the job. I was jealous of my friends because they never had to worry about half the things I did. Their parents did their chores and took them to the doctors office up until they were 18. They were always reminded when a project or homework was due for their classes, and some of my friends didnt even have to write their own college application essays. No matter what my parents said about learning responsibility, I never accepted the fact that they were trying to help me. I considered it an excuse for the fact that they didnt make time for me out of their

jobs and daily lives. My perceived definition of help was having my parents do everything for me.

III The Christmas of my fourth grade year was by far the most competitive, in terms of who could get the best gifts. Christmas lists were made at least two months in advance and compared and revised daily on the playground. Everyone was talking about it, the Mongoose Motor Scooter. Of course it was battery operated because it wasnt legal for a 10 year old to cruise around on a 40 mph gas powered scooter; but that didnt stop any of us from claiming that we were going at the speed of sound. We all just had to have one, and we didnt let our parents forget it. The morning of Christmas Day, I nearly fell on my face while running down our wooden stairs in my socks. As soon as I walked into the sunroom, there it was (well it was just a large package that said from: Santa but I already knew it what was). My parents entered the room a couple seconds later. Merry Christmas Kimmy, my Dad said. I embraced them both in huge hugs and thanked them. Now open the rest of them! said my Mom. I began to unwrap the box next to the one containing the motor scooter. It was about the size of a box that would contain a basketball. I started to see the label on the box; it said, Bell in white lettering inside of a red oval. It was a safety set of elbow pads, and kneepads. The smile that had come from the first gift had vanished in a second. Mom you cant be serious. This is

not cool. I said. Sorry hon, thats the only way I will let you ride that death trap. Everyone in fourth grade knew that helmets were not cool, let alone kneepads and elbow pads. Of course we wore them when we left the house to please our mothers, but as soon as you left the vicinity of the cul-de-sac where your parents could no longer see you, you would undo the buckle and leave it sitting on your head in a cool fashion. I wanted to go and ride around the neighborhood with my friends later that day, but I couldnt let them see me wearing all my safety gear without getting extremely humiliated. I had to think of a plan. I told my parents I was leaving to go hang out with my friends, and of course my mother didnt forget to remind me to bring my new equipment. I put all of the pads on as I was walking out of the garage pouting and muttering under my breath as my mom said, be safe and have fun! Yeah right, I thought. How could I have fun if Im being made fun of by all of my friends? I turned onto the street at the bottom of our cul-de-sac and pulled the brakes, stepped off the scooter, and put the kickstand up. I stopped behind a large bush and tore off my elbow pads and kneepads. I hid them behind the bush where no one could see them. Satisfied, I got back on the scooter and continued my way to meet my friends at the neighborhood park. I thought to myself, My mom thinks she knows everything about safety, how dangerous could a motor scooter be anyway? Its not like anybody Kim! Come quick! my friend Alyssa had ran around the corner from the direction of the park with fear and panic in her voice, Jessica fell off her scooter! Her knee is bleeding really bad I dont know what to do. Also panicking, I followed her on my scooter to the parking lot of the park, and I saw

Jessica sitting on the curb bawling her eyes out trying to stop the bleeding on her knee with her sweatshirt. I was one of the only ones in my grade to have a cell phone, which was one of the perks of my mom caring so much about my safety at the time. I pulled it out and dialed my moms cell phone number. I explained what happened and she rushed over in the car. We had to take Jessica to the hospital where her mom met us, and she had to get 5 stitches. On the way home I was so surprised when my mom didnt give me a lecture. She had noticed that I wasnt wearing my kneepads or elbow pads, but didnt ask about it. Also I was surprised that she didnt say, I told you so about Jessica getting hurt after I yelled at her that morning about how she was just being crazy. But the thing is, by her not saying anything, I still got the message loud and clear, and I think she knew that.

IV My mom has always been a bargain shopper. Probably because she grew up right outside New York City and shes used to haggling prices with side street vendors. Although Cary, North Carolina, where I grew up, is not like New York City at all, and to me it seemed like she did not know that. Everyone likes a good sale, but my mom always took it one step further. I was never allowed to go to the mall or shopping anywhere unless I had some kind of coupon. I didnt understand why she would nag so much about me using them. We had the money to spend on things like

that, and I didnt know why my parents wouldnt just accept buying something for the normal ticket price. I had never been angrier about having to use the coupons than one time that I was shopping with my friends and we went into Bath & Body Works. It was a coupon for the new lotion that we had all wanted to get, Sweet Pea. It was the newest lotion that everyone had been talking about. The bottle was a pretty pink and green with silver designs all over it, and it held enough lotion for about maybe 20-30 uses. It was $35.00 full price but the coupon I had was for 50% off. I was actually happy when my mom had given me the coupon, because it was the first time in a while that I felt like I was able to buy something that I actually wanted and wasnt just settling for. We all walked into the store and were greeted by the scent of Sweet Pea and the store workers offering us a sample. After testing and smelling some other products we each grabbed a bottle of the Sweet Pea lotion and went to the register. I got in line first. I handed my bottle to the cashier and she rang it up. Your total is thirty-seven and forty five cents. I confidently handed her the coupon with a smile. Um, this is expired, Im sorry. Your total is still $37.45, said the cashier. Oh okay. I shuffled through my wallet to find the cash. I pulled out two ten-dollar bills. Actually never mind about the lotion, I said. I had never been so embarrassed. In my head I just couldnt stop blaming only my mom for preventing me from buying a $40 bottle of lotion, and being mad at her for it. I quickly turned away and walked outside of the store.

V I remember the car ride like it was yesterday. My brother had picked me up at 2 AM from a Wal Mart parking lot, where the bus had dropped me off after coming home from a week at Young Life camp. I was in the best mood I had ever been in. After having what was the best week of my life with my best friends, hundreds of activities, no cell phone, and no connection with anyone outside of the camp, I was excited to come home. I was surprised to see Justin, my older brother of 4 years. He wasnt the brother who would volunteer to pick up his little sister from anywhere, most 17-year-olds werent. Too exhausted to ask questions I accepted his greeting hug and helped him carry my bags to the car. Five minutes of silence passed before he asked how my week was. I explained all of the cabin-bonding activities, the hikes, the zip lines and the good food. Thats great Kim. He said. I sensed less enthusiasm than usual (which is a big deal for my monotone sibling). I had no idea that the question I was about to ask would open up a door I did not ever want to enter. How is everything at home? His face blanked. Actually Kim, I should probably tell you. Our house is not a happy place to be right now. He could see that I was puzzled. Mom is going through a hard time right now, and Dad is very stressed and upset. Nobody really talks. He added. What? was all I could manage to let out. He let out a big sigh, Mom is sick. She has breast cancer. I felt like I was in a dream. They dont want you to know; mom doesnt want us to worry, so she hasnt told me anything and most likely wont tell you either. All of the happy memories and the great mood I had been in for the

past 7 days quickly wore away. Every memory of my mom flashed quickly through my head. Is she gonna die? I whispered. I dont know, Kim. I laid my head against the window and slowly a tear started to roll down my face. The twenty-minute car ride home felt like hours. About 6 months after she was diagnosed with the cancer she had a mastectomy and after four years, many doctors visits, a lot of emotions, and two follow up surgeries, she was finally healthy again. This experience has made me never take my mom or her advice for granted. Some children dont even have parents to teach them things as they grow up. If I am lucky enough to have two parents who love me enough to nag me until Ive learned how important it is to where embarrassing knee and elbow pads, I should and will never wish that away.

VI I ended up reflecting everything that I had subconsciously learned. I started a campaign, The Not Afraid Campaign, to help promote awareness and education to girls about breast cancer and to lessen the fear of the thought of cancer. I was able to display my empathy and desire to care for people through the project of creating this campaign. I printed flyers, designed shirts, and got a group of runners together to create a team in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. I was able to do everything on my own, with no help of my parents, using skills of responsibility I had been taught. When it came to the fundraising, I wanted to put every possible penny towards the cause. I used every coupon I could find to order the T-shirts that I sold.

As for the education part of the campaign, I was able to use my knowledge and experiences with physical safety to promote wellbeing to girls and show preventative ways to avoid breast cancer. After rejecting the help that my mom had been trying to give to me for so long, I finally accepted that she loves me and was sponsoring my literacy when I didnt even realize or appreciate it.