Childhood Autobiography

We start our lives by molding our minds with the help of scholars along with childhood authors. Our minds grow through interactions and new experiences helping us with the basics. As in the walking, babbling that fills the first two to three years before the real learning begins. I feel our real development becomes prevalent when our eyes scan the pages of our first image filled book. As we slowly grow to learn new words, and have more experiences through the pages, our minds expand. While the words grow harder, the pages grow longer our literary development becomes advanced. As years have progressed I have increased my ability to read and write through the great childhood experience that is known as, going to school. “Start them young” was

The world of picture books soon came to a close and so arrived the multitude of textbooks along with simple chapter books. My mind wasn’t ready to fully comprehend all that was being thrown my way. Which in turn caused me to fall behind my classmates as a consequence, I was sent to Guided Reading more than my peers. We would sit in a tiny room around a tiny table with three to four other students. They gave us picture books to start with. We took our time as we read aloud and followed along with our finger. After partaking in this reading program I was skilled in reading and was finally sent back to class. I put my reading skills into action any time the teacher needed a volunteer to read from the textbook. Confidence was pouring out of me as I skimmed through the passages. My literary confidence was soon put to the test when writing was put into play. Time had changed and the hard work was soon to

While writing became something that I fully enjoy. Reading continues to be a struggle, which in turn causes reading to be of less interest to me. It started to feel like more of a chore than an enjoyment. Reading, whether that be out loud or in my head I was known as being rather slow. Mumbling the words I 'm not sure how to pronounce. Reading quietly so no one can hear me fumble my words was how I read when called on to read in class. However due to being forced to read To Kill a Mockingbird, Fahrenheit 451, Dante 's Inferno, and the Odyssey in a short period of time taught me to read at an average high school pace. My reading times became shorter while the pages grew in number. The idea of reading aloud will forever strike fear into my bones, but I have regained enough confidence to make it through the