Christman 1

Robert M. Christman
Professor Laura Knudson
UWRT 1103-015
11 September 2014
My literacy
My literary journey began when I was near the age of five. My mother started my
learning by teaching me my characters and small words. She gave me small learning sessions
close to twice a week. In which my teachers in school built on later.
When I entered the educational system at the age of six I was already ahead of most of
the kids in my class by the schools standards but my mother would not allow me to skip a grade.
By the end of kindergarten I started to read small chapter books, while the other kids were still
reading picture books. My weakness, however, was in writing. My handwriting was terrible in
kindergarten just like all the other kids but, for some strange reason I remember hearing about
Ambidextria and I began trying to duplicate it. I did not realize until I matured how strange that
was. I do not know exactly when or why but, for some reason by the time I was in second grade I
could write with the same skill with both hands. My skills in hand writing were, however,
equally bad in both hands. This was due to my incredible lack of steadiness in my hands. My
mother noticed this and urged me to write with only my right hand hoping that my handwriting
would improve but, it did not and since then I have lost my Ambidextria and my handwriting is
still equally bad. I know now that handwriting is a skill that is in no way easily mastered.
In third grade the school began pushing chapter books on to the other kids in my class,
while I had already been reading them. My mother had begun reading with me while also,
encouraging me to read more. We read one book I remember especially. A small chapter book

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that was strongly based off of the philosophy of Henry David Thoreau called My Side of the
Mountain. It featured a child going into the woods from the city and living alone for an extended
period of time, using only nature to survive. My mother read to me simply because it was a book
we had. I enjoyed it because it appealed to the adventurous side I had as a child. Looking back
on it now I feel like it opened my mind to a more naturalist form of thinking.
At the age of eight, I began to read books that were considered far above my reading
comprehension level. I read classics like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The
Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I of course did not catch any of the undertones in these books
because at that age I knew nothing of undertones or double meanings, to me these were just
stories. I read modern series like Harry Potter and the Eragon trilogy. I saw reading as a way into
a new world. Literacy was my key to a whole new world. A world of the past, present, future,
and worlds that would never exist in reality. When I read nothing else in the world mattered. My
problems were gone the second I opened a book. I was there. I was there in Mississippi with
Huck. I rode dragons in a mystical world. I even did magic. All this in the world of books.
In fourth grade the focus was mostly on calligraphy, writing in cursive and such things.
This was incredibly difficult for me because of my shaky hands. As a result, I did not learn. This
was no problem with my grade because the only thing that mattered to those teachers were
standardized test scores and they never tested cursive so, I stayed illiterate in this sense.
Through middle school I began to learn about plots and sub plots. I began to truly
understand what was going on and see the picture the authors were really painting. I had already
seen and understood the stories, but I began to truly see what was going on. I saw that Moby
Dick wasnt just some boring fishermens tale but, that its actually a metaphor for the fact that
we all have some goal that keeps escaping us. I saw that The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

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wasnt just a story of a confused little boy, but that it was telling us that a childs mind can make
anything seem grand. I didnt just enjoy these tales anymore. I truly understood them and
interpreted them as I wished. I could finally see what the authors really wanted me to see.
When I started my sophomore year of high school I realized the most terrifying thing in
my literate life. I had absolutely no idea how to write a report, or any other type of paper for that
matter. I never had to until I took Earth Environmental Science class. This was an honors class
that was known for how challenging it was and the commitment it required. I had no idea what I
was getting into. Every paper I turned in I ended up with a D or C and nothing better. I didnt
know what to do. I had never really had to ever write any type of report or research paper. I was
just a reader. None of my past instructors ever really told me how and my teacher in this class
didnt tell me how to write a paper either. I realized that a paper is simply a story yet to be
written, that no one person can really show or tell you how to write a paper. You have to look
inside yourself and realize how you write papers. You have to realize what makes you work. I
for one work best early in the morning around four AM. This time allows me to focus with
minimal distractions. The lack of sleep gives me the drive I need to power through my work. The
cup of tea before I start working keeps me alert and calms my mind. Sitting upright in a
comfortable chair allows me to ignore sleep and focus on the evacuation of my thoughts from my
mind into the safe zone that is paper. Ive never really used drafts. I find it easier to write
sequentially especially with papers like this one where the thoughts are just memories.
I wish I could say I enjoyed writing. I wish I could say that I can write about anything on
the spot but, these things would be false. These things would be false because I have been forced
to write for almost my entire educational life. I have been forced to dance like a marionette by a
puppeteer. The puppeteer being the school system. I put on this show that is my writing. A show

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that is forced and unpleasant to all that put it on. The school systems force these large writing
assignments on students all over the world. These large works of devotion by the students. These
students that try nothing other than to dance to the string pulls of the school systems but, these
students know not why they write. They know only that they must write. They must write to
pass. They must write to graduate. They must write to live but, why? Is there no other way these
life skills like grammar, spelling, planning, and meeting deadlines can be learned? These are all
skills we have been taught continuously throughout school and another paper will make no
difference. But they will continue. The system will always give papers if not only to educate, but
also weed out those that question the system and its papers. Until someone does the papers the
system asks them to, until they are the system and they start to question themselves. Then will
these papers come to an end. Then the strings will be cut and all the little marionettes will fall to
the ground free from the school systems tyranny and writing will once again be fun.