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Nathan Bucci Ms. Eaker ENGL 1101-062 7 December 2012 A Piece of the Puzzle: A Personal Literacy Narrative Writing is like crafting a puzzle. Both processes take particular strategies, timely patience, and above all perseverance to create the completed piece or puzzle. I open up the door to writing when I realize the pen-to-page exercise cannot be entirely perfect. However, this idea of perfection lingers in my soul. I need my writing to be perfect before I can start. So how do I start? Before I left the nest and went to the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, my mother was the chief motivator to get me to start my school papers. Just jot down ideas, or pretend you are writing to a friend. But do not procrastinate Nate! she said. Even to this day, I can hear my mother saying those last four words, do not procrastinate, Nate. Her voice rings in my ears every time I feel like delaying a writing assignment. I have kept a journal for as long as I can remember. In my journal, I engaged my feelings and emotions by writing poetry and prayers. Of course, the typical how-my-day went routine was recorded in my journal. Occasionally, the joyful comments I would include in my journal turned to words of hate. In re-reading some journal entries from my younger days, I realized I was an angry child. Seeing the dried tear streaks on my journal, and reading the entries and poems I wrote, would make any mothers heart break. My mother taught me how to read and write before I ever went to school. Snuggled under my covers, she read about lands where wild things lived and where islands were inhabited by secluded tribes. I clearly recall reading the lovely fiction novel, Island of the Blue Dolphins. I

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remember picking up this novel at the library and diving into its adventure from the moment I stepped into my house. My mother said Cant you pick a different book? I responded with a stubborn, Nope, I want to read the Blue Dolphins book! My mother and I read this novel for a sip of momentary grace. As I entered into the world of the Island of the Blue Dolphins, I could get away from the hectic life at home. My father and mother were always taking care of my younger brother while I was fighting to save their marriage. When I read through the book, I was introduced to a new genre of writing. In the Island of the Blue Dolphins, I felt the salty air, saw the main characters facial expressions, and tasted the wild foods of the Indian tribes. I also heard the armies of the white men coming to destroy the Island. This memory resonates with me because I felt a connection with the main character. I would go into my secret place in the woods of the backyard and escape into a new world when reading this book; even when my mother yelled, Nate, time for dinner! As I went onto Elementary school, my teachers realized that I was a visual learner, which has occasionally hindered my ability to take notes. Throughout Elementary school, I resented writing and thought of it as a chore. Because of my speech problem during those years, I consistently felt embarrassed to read aloud during class. In writing an essay or assignment, my thoughts were scrambled everywhere and I repeatedly had trouble writing down cohesive, clear ideas. In third grade, I could not pronounce words. I remember in one class, a student pop-corned me to read. Pop-corning to read was essentially getting called on to read at any moments notice. I got through four words, and abruptly stopped to popcorn another classmate. However, the third grade teacher ordered me to finish the sentence. I doing so, there appeared the word, world, and I could not pronounce that word correctly. Everyone in the class mocked me. They repeated, World, why is he saying it like that, ha-ha! and I began to cry. That incident remained in the

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back of my mind upon entering my junior year of high school. It was in history class, when I grew in confidence and courage thanks to a caring teacher. My high school history teacher in my junior year introduced me to the history of the War in Vietnam. I can still visualize his welcoming smile and bright eyes that made him seem far younger than his actual age of sixty. Throughout Mr. Bahms history class, I met Veterans of the War in Vietnam and learned their stories about life in battle. The class came and went as fast as a blink of an eye, but, Mr. Bahm stayed in my life. One class, he said, Nathan, I believe you have what it takes to get a scholarship from this class. You are one of the best Nam students Ive ever had, and I want you to write as essay for NCVVI. The North Carolina Vietnam Vets Incorporated is an organization dedicated to the men and women of North Carolina who served and died in the War in Vietnam. They award a generous scholarship to any student whom they feel will write their assigned topic the best. In 2011, the essay question was, Why do some Veterans continue to struggle even after the War in Vietnam? I meditated on the topic for several minutes, and began writing the essay. Of all the papers I ever wrote, this was the one paper I felt the most engaged with while writing. Because of my compassion for the Veterans of the War in Vietnam whom I met over my junior year of high school, I tried to write what would make them feel fired up and appeal to them. I discussed the vast effects of the horrific chemical gas Agent Orange, and how it still affects American and Vietnamese citizens today. I also wrote about the night time terrors and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) that a select number of Veterans from both sides of the war experience as a result of the horrors and hell of War. This paper motivated me and made me realize I can be a clear, decent writer -if I engage myself and put effort into my writing.

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As the seasons of my life went by like a quick gust of wind, I eventually entered into another realm of life college. Although I opened up the doors to a better writing, I found that my writing style was far from the collegiate level. When I took English 1101 at Wake Tech College in the fall of 2011, I had a testing professor. Ms. Chesson was the harshest, most sarcastic, yet ironically encouraging teacher I have ever had. I vividly remember getting up to go to the front of the classroom and write down the first paragraph of our final research paper. I spent several hours writing this paragraph and researching a viable topic. However, Ms. Chesson read aloud my writing to the entire class. My first sentence, on the topic of tobacco advertising, went something along the lines of, Indubitably, there is a profound sense of a preposterous disappointment in the tobacco industry advertisements. And after she read aloud my sentence, I realized that was the first mistake I made -showing up to class to be mocked and have my paper destroyed. Ms. Chesson said, Indubitablyreally? That sounds like you are trying way too hard. And preposterous? Were you drunk when writing this? She continued to dismantle my paper by breaking down every word, punctuation mark, thought, and sentence. And she proceeded to ridicule my long thoughtout topic. I left the class early and poured out my feelings into my trusty journal. This incident did break me down emotionally, but strengthened my confidence to make me into the writer I am today. Throughout my experience and memories I have of writing, I learned that writing is like a puzzle. In preschool, elementary school, high school, and college, there have been helpful and discouraging people in my life who were used as a vessel in some way to guide me in the direction of writing I use today. Their advice are like the pieces of the puzzle that are starting to come together to form into a beautiful, flowing picture. My writing may never be perfect, but, by

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reflecting on how my memories of writing have shaped my life, I am one step closer to creating the entirety of the puzzle.