My mother was always the greatest influence on the development of my literacy, even today.

When Im prompted to think about what got me to where I am, shes the first person I think about who aided me on my literacy journey. Im sure many others share this sentiment, but its tragic to think that not everyone has had this gift. When I was young and illiterate, my mother and I would sit on our brown couch in the living room. Id pick a book for that night and shed put on her glasses and read it out loud to me. The only book I really remember her reading to me was the first Harry Potter novel. It came to a point that, even though I was able to read in school, I still preferred that my mother read to me at night. It must have been her voice: nurturing, smooth, and unbreaking as she read what was before her without pause to consider how to pronounce a word. It all flowed so well to me, helping me to actually comprehend what the author was saying. Hearing a word that I didnt know was better than me reading a word I didnt know. I was more easily able to grasp the context of the word, and therefore ascertain its meaning. When reading myself, I would have to stop when encountering a big word, and, if curious enough, I would look up the words meaning. Not that I did that often. Still, reading by myself would lead to many breaks in the flow of what I was reading, making the experience less enjoyable than when my mother read. This transition from being accustomed solely to speech, to being accustomed to both speech and writing, was a very simple one thanks to my mother. She was the bridge between the oral word and the written word. Every night she would act as my link - my mediator. She would be my way of experiencing the magic of Harry Potter in its most pure form, as my own reading of it would be much more incomprehensible and jagged. She didnt just read me books, though. I would always be bringing the most random things to her at night to read to me: a pamphlet from school, a Playstation game manual, an instruction booklet. Always she would read it to me, unconditionally. Unless, that is, the text was too small for her to see. Eventually it came to the point where I was more confident. I wanted to show my mother that I didnt need her to act as my reading medium; I could function just fine on my own from this point on. I wanted to be the one to read to my mother. One of the subsequent Harry Potter books was out by this point (Im not sure which one), but this time it was me sounding out the words, making sense of them, and understanding what it was that I was reading and saying. I remember laying on her bed, showing off in the most annoying way, asking can I read to you? Do you want me to read? Of course, she couldn't say no. It was from that point on that I began to read more and more on my own, but the frequency of when I read myself was much lower than when my mother read to me. Even though she was my crutch, she was also the one to introduce me to reading and encourage my learning. On my own, however, I lacked this motivation that she provided, preferring to spend the night with the Playstation or with some friends, instead of with her reading to me. What my mother also provided me was the freedom to explore what I wished, without the constraints that other parents usually enforced upon their children. I had open access to the internet (which became much more restricted after an accidental incident), and I was able to play T rated games and watch PG-13 rated movies. I had a broader perspective of the world around me, not limited as it was for some of my friends. My next door neighbors, two girls whom I frequently played with, were raised Catholic. As such, many of the conversations I would start with them usually ended up with them confused, or they simply wouldnt know enough about the subject the keep talking with me about it. Still, we were young, and such issues wouldnt create a gap in our friendship, since we had more fun playing around outside than actually talking about something remotely intelligent. Even with this informational gap, likely provided by the fact that I was able to access the internet, and my friends werent, the content I would look at on the computer was limited. I was a child, and it was childish things that interested me, like flash games that would be advertised on Cartoon Network. From these sites, I might visit another website. Many of the things I saw were unable to be comprehended by me, but it was the power of the internet at my fingertips that excited me. It made me feel smarter than my friends, even though it wasnt something I fully understood. As I got older, my mother got a little more restricting in what she would allow me to play or watch. She had read some articles in the paper about what happened to children who played mature games or watched R rated movies. A fear had germinated within her, making her more paranoid about how virtual, fantasy violence may influence me to be violent myself. Her position as a parent is likely what opened her up to these arguments. She didnt want her child to grow up to be a murderer or a criminal. She wanted the best for me, and these unsupported, poorly-constructed arguments she had read were easily able to grasp at her mind, which I believe was vulnerable to the subject due to her being a mother. Just as I had my own influences on literacy, my mother did as well. Her social position affected her perception of different and new literacies (video games). It was something that she didnt understand as well as I did, so it makes sense to me that she would be more cautious in her approach to it. Because of her caution, I had to be more persuasive in my attempts to get what I wanted. If I wanted one of these more mature games, I had to explain to her what value it had that I could possibly gain from it. For example, I could watch the movie Men of Honor because beneath the

harsh language and such was a moral - a lesson. My mother was able to easily see this point, since film was a genre she was more familiar with than games. She knew the movie wasnt gratuitous or pointless. Still, she failed to consider my comprehension of what I was watching. It was a movie for grown-ups, and most of its content was completely lost on me. My mother wasnt able to act as my mediator this time; the film spoke directly to me, and I was on my own. So, even though I watched it, I didnt get it. It all flew over my head, and in spite of my excitement for seeing my first R rated movie, I quickly became bored. Games were a different story. They were something that I could interact with, unlike movies. I paid attention to what I was doing, and what was happening. I became, essentially, much more engaged and involved with this form of literacy. Games were also a medium of storytelling and literacy that my mother was not at all familiar with. She knew that games I had already played, like Crash Bandicoot had the potential of making me holler in frustration when my I would fail a level countless times. My tendency to become frustrated, combined with the tainted knowledge she had gained from those articles she might have read, made her much more wary of allowing me access to these restricted fruits. I had to be more persuasive than ever, using past games as an example to bolster my argument. For example, one series that I had played in the past, Splinter Cell, released a new installment that had gone from a Teen to a Mature rating. I had to explain to her that this new installment was no different than others she had seen, except for the use of some bad words that I already knew and didnt use, as well as the addition of some specks of blood. I had to tell her how I had to use strategy to win, having to stop and think about a plan of action before I would be able to be victorious. I think she just wanted to see that I was still using my brain, and not becoming a mindless husk as those articles she read presented children who enjoyed games or TV to be. It was a difficult argument, but I managed to win her over. This break in her restrictions allowed me easier access to future M rated games, further exposing me to content and themes that would likely not be present had she retained the outlook she had adopted from reading those articles. I sometimes ponder what would be different if she had been more oppressive in what I was exposed to. Would I see or approach ideas and other literacies differently than I do now? I generally consider myself a very open minded person, and I wonder if that is a result of my being able to read, play, and watch things as I saw fit, without too much restriction. As a further example, my parents got Netflix one Christmas when I was still rather young. This new technology gave me even further access to more mature films. I took advantage, watching films that continued to go over my head, such as Apocalypse Now or (embarrassingly) Eyes Wide Shut. I knew that what I was seeing was something I probably shouldnt be watching, but knowing that I had the power to do so made me feel more open and confident. I felt superior, in a way, because I had been exposed to adult and mature content, and that in turn would make me more mature. These films and games acted as a catalyst. They boosted my maturity at a young age, and allowed me to see and think about things differently. The real question, though, is: is this true? What if I wasnt exposed to these films and games? Would I have been trapped in my youth, with a much more closed-off mind? How would I see things today? Presenting the possibility of this correlation elicits further questions: Is it healthy to expose a younger audience to more mature and thematic content, when they are more open to such exposure and less tenacious in their way of thinking? Its a difficult question to answer, open to extensive debate, but in my case I believe it worked in my favor. However, its difficult to say for sure if there is a correlation. Still, I personally feel my perception of things would be drastically altered if I had a more constrained child/teenhood. One thing my mother would never be cautious of were books. Usually, I would have to pay for things with my allowance, which I earned from doing chores around the house. But with books, my mother would gladly purchase them for me when I was a teenager. Books were a technology that my mother was familiar with. She grew up with them, and trusted them. She was an avid reader herself, but she stuck more with mysteries and light reading. These genres she exposed herself to likely made her unable to realize just what other books were available. I say this because she was mostly unfamiliar with the titles I would pick out, which she would likely not approve of if she knew what they were. My selections were usually more heavy and thematic, such as A Clockwork Orange (my personal favorite) or something by Bret Easton Ellis or Chuck Palahniuk. These particular authors produced novels that would be more graphic than my mother would approve of. In fact, American Pyscho was banned for a time for its extensive violent content. Still, I would read these with great interest, which further, as I think, expanded my perception and therefore allowed me to view things today more openly. If I was limited to books that only suited people my age, Id be engrossed with teenage vampire stories or some other such thing that would do little to actually change the way I think about things. My interests werent restricted to these more questionable books, though. I could always enjoy something light that extended beyond the thematic or macabre. I trace this morbid curiosity of mine back to when our family moved from North Carolina to Florida. I was to start fifth grade here, and I didnt have any friends. Other kids my age werent too nice to me either, so I spent a lot of time doing my homework in the

library. For some reason or another, I decided to check out a book by Stephen King. I had no idea what I was reading, but since I couldnt impress anyone my age I tried to impress my teacher, who told me to put the book away since it was inappropriate for myself and others. I became conflicted with what was considered appropriate for me. I understood why parents would restrict movies, but why would book be seen as inappropriate? Its a book. People are supposed to read books. Its encouraged, isnt it? How come movies and games are rated, but books arent, even when they can be so much more graphic, gruesome, and inappropriate than other mediums? With this in mind, I started to develop a morbid curiosity. What else is out there that Im not supposed to see? I started to read authors of a more macabre nature, like Lovecraft, Clive Barker and (of course) more King. All this weird stuff made me so curious, made me think about the more abstract things that arent a part of our world. It made me think of the mysterious elements of our minds that we try not to embrace because it makes us uncomfortable. This literacy made me think of just how broad our imaginations are, and how much we limit and constrain ourselves in order to fit the present social situation, which calls for strict rules of etiquette, attitude, and appropriateness. I became separate from the real world, which I wasnt very fond of because it wasnt so nice to me, and delved into these strange works of fiction that drew a steep divide between reality and imagination. Even today, Ive developed a love for fantasy and horror novels, games and books. They do the greatest job of immersing me into something new and compelling, encouraging me to think about things in a way that would not exist without human imagination; things that we have to dig deep in our minds to uncover and embrace; things that simply do not exist in our everyday lives. Ive been able to move past the stage in my life where I figured reading, watching or playing mature titles would impart maturity upon me. Now, I do these things because they have a better chance of connecting with me at a deeper level, and of exposing me to ideas that I would not have previously been able to ponder. The separation of fantasy and reality can be dangerous, should one embrace fantasy so much that they forget reality. I think this issue can stem more from mental illness than what we immerse ourselves in, but the extent to which that is true is something not for this paper. Still, I think it is this subject that concerned my mother when I was younger. Ive read some of those articles urging parents to withhold all mature films or games (but never books) from their children, because they would not be able to see the difference between fantasy and reality, acting in real life as the characters violently act in those fantasies. I cant say this has ever been an issue for me, as I feel bad even when I have to kill a bug, but such debates can contribute to constraining the developing literacies of developing people all over the country. All in all, I feel that I owe much of my literacy today to my mother. Without her, I don't feel as though I'd have such an engaging relationship with the books I read, or the movies I watch. She was, after all, the catalyst which motivated me to become a better reader, and a better thinker. I remember, for as long as I've lived, that she would always hole herself up in the living room, reading a new mystery book or other, spending time with herself to discover the whodunit. For some reason, I've always felt the need to emulate her by reading my own plethora of novels that extend beyond one specific genre. I'm not saying that reading one type of novel over another is unhealthy, but somehow I felt the need to explore books that went beyond convention. Books that, for some reason or another, were seen as inordinary and perhaps even dangerous. The point is this: without my mother, I would not be as curious, thoughtful, or (what I deem) successful as I am today. Much more has led to the culmination of what I perceive as my literacy today, but these few anecdotes and people are what I feel are the greatest contributors. They are my benefactors in my learning of reading, writing, and the love Ive developed for each. Besides these role models, Ive been exposed throughout my life to new technologies that have altered or even changed the way I think about things. Im unable to say for certain if my exposure to mature novels, games and movies are what led to how I think today, but I certainly feel that it was a greater contributing factor. Many of these mediums of storytelling continue to stick with me, having done their job in teaching me new ideas, or encouraging me to think rather than merely observe. For this, I am grateful, and I hope to continue to be more aware of my changing literacies.