I never liked reading. Never. As a kid I would “accidentally” spill things on my books all the time so that I didn’t have to read them. I avoided any kind of inside activity like a vampire avoids the morning sun. That is, until I discovered Salinger’s “The Catcher in the Rye”.

I was able to read well before I had picked up this particular book, but none of them held my attention or caused me to think in the same way that this one did. The childhood me wasn’t actually understanding the novels, I was just remembering the order of facts that occurred. Starting with Sallinger’s novel, I read anything and everything. I wanted to explore the ends of Middle Earth, the depths of the Pacific, and the wild country along the Mississippi river towns. My first memories of literacy emerge when I experienced a phenomenon I’ve described to others as “culture shock”. Culture shock is that moment when you put down a book, and no matter how hard you try, your brain still operates in the laws of the novel you’re reading. After a while you would struggle free and come up for air in the real world. Awakened, confused, and disappointed, I first defined my modern thoughts of literacy to include only this brief phenomenon.

It isn’t possible to consider yourself truly literate unless you’re willing to be changed.

Like Peter Pan and the lost boys, I never wanted to grow up. I was “that kid” in my family that refused to learn to read because that would mean I was getting older and slowly reaching the scary world of adulthood. However my parents persisted in teaching me by sending me to preschool and reading to my sisters and I every night before we went to bed. I do not recall learning to read but I must have before kindergarten, because I was placed in the special group of students who already knew how to read. This relates to how I felt about literacy, because I never really felt literate or illiterate. I never really thought about being one or the other. I simply read and wrote and never gave much thought to literacy. However two summers ago, I worked at a summer camp for inner city kids where a surprising number of our campers were “illiterate,” meaning they could not read or write in their native tongue. It was here that I learned how devastating illiteracy could be and how frustrating it can be to not express yourself in the written word or comprehend what someone else has written.

One of my most vivid memories of literacy comes from when I was around eight or nine years old. I have always loved to read and so my parents always had me a fully stocked bookshelf, complete with Dr. Seuss, Little Golden Books, Goosebumps…any collection you could think of. I thought that at the age of eight, or nine, I was the most spectacular reader, which in turn lead me to believe that I was also the most spectacular teacher. Believing that I was born to teach, I would call in my four brothers to my room, (one older and three younger), and make them sit in front of my bed so I could read to them like my (and all of yours) kindergarten teacher would do. I would read the page of the book, complete with exaggerated emotion to give that extra ah effect, and then I would fan the book amongst the four of them to show the pictures that everyone always waited anxiously to see.

This memory that I have of my past really confirms my belief that I should be a teacher. This experience has also made me realize that I loved reading so much because I was reading ten page books. Don’t get me wrong, I do still love to read, but I love to read books of my choice (Mitch Albom, for example), not books I am forced to read (Frankenstein, for example).

This experience connects with my definition from class in the way that I believe literacy deals with the communication of words. I was able to communicate written words on a page to people and tell a story. My brothers didn’t have to read the words themselves to comprehend what the pictures were portraying, but by listening to me talk they were able to understand what was happening in the book.

I grew up in a home of gigantic nerds. Between my mom and dad, almost every nerdy pursuit was covered. My mom was huge into things like Star wars and Star Trek, while my dad was engrossed with things like comics and fantasy novels. They would always bicker about which nerdy pursuit was better, but the one thing they always agreed upon is that The Lord of the Rings was the best thing to ever grace God’s green earth.

When I was around 10, I really wanted to impress my parents and read their favorite trilogy. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of reading the LOTR novels, they’re long, they’re mostly boring, and they’re full of words that no 10 year old should or would ever know. My parents understood that it was difficult for even an adult to read, so they told me it was fine and that they would read it to me, or I could read it later. While this was a kind gesture, I was determined to do it. So I went and got the dictionary, and looked up any word I didn’t understand in it.

I’m proud to say that I managed to finish those books in a measly two and a half years.

When I was in elementary school I played the violin. I played for two years, without learning how to read music. I would practice weekly with my school’s music teacher, perform in seasonal recitals, but never knew how to read music. It was never a problem. I was never reprimanded nor did I feel the need to learn. My music teacher would review a piece every time he introduced a new one by telling us the chords we were supposed to play. I would just memorize the pattern. Occasionally I would write it in my book, or maybe he wrote it in my book because he knew I couldn’t read music. After my second year a new music teacher replaced the old one, and he expected me to be able to read music as I had been playing for two years. I couldn’t, and didn’t want to learn, and so I gave up.

I managed to make it through two years of music practices and recitals without learning how to read music. In class we discussed being literate and being literate in different areas. I think everyone is literate, because everyone has the basic skills to survive, because you need to be literate to some degree in order to communicate with people and go grocery shopping and have any job. But there are definitely different degrees of literacy, why else would there be reading levels? I’ve always wondered why reading levels just kind of stop when you’re in elementary school. Is there just one set level from there on out? Should we all have the skills to read and understand complex works of writing after that?

To me, literacy always felt like a race during my childhood. At my elementary school, we had these long bookshelves with different colored plastic bins containing an assortment of books. Based on our current reading level at the time, we were allowed to read books from a certain color bin. Unfortunately, my time in the normal writing and reading class ended very abruptly a few weeks into my second grade year. My teacher pulled me aside a couple weeks into the year and told me I would be going to another classroom during our reading time. The problem was not my reading level or my writing skills; the problem was I could not pronounce certain words. They told me I had a slight speech impediment, and I would be going through therapy to fix it. My problem with literacy is not comprehension, but a clear and coherent way to explain my understanding.  The action of comprehension is fluid, but my reaction was slowed. It resonates with me today, even though the problem was fixed, how to show that I comprehend something completely even though my verbal response might be sloppy. Literacy has always included that “reaction” for me, and it is an important factor in what I consider to be literate. Over the years I improved my speech, even today I am able to speak in a coherent fashion as a tour guide for the university; however, it is not something that comes innate to me. For every action comes the reaction, and using speech as a form of literacy has always been an important part of the reaction. I do not necessarily have to win the “race” of being literate, I just have to keep up.

When I visited my old elementary school two years ago and told them how I am an English Writing major I didn’t get any strange looks. That was odd to me. Because from second grade to fifth I was in a reading program that took individual students who were struggling with reading and writing and gave them some extra attention to get them up to speed with their other students. This is one of the first memories I have of literacy; the small classroom,  six other kids, and the yellow guider to help keep our eyes focused on the words we were reading. As an adult looking back on this situation I can’t help but be embarrassed by what was then my inability to read and write. Due to all the hype in the media today about illiterate children and adults it has received a very negative connotation. But as a kid then I remember coming home and telling my mom all of the things I learned in Ms. Spon’s class. At that age I didn’t know how to feel embarrassed and I didn’t feel “illiterate”. Now, I know I was what most people say “behind”, however, literacy as we discussed in class today is the ability to articulate and understand thoughts of your own and others for the purpose of communication. I couldn’t do that so by definition I was illiterate at the time. Which brings me to some of my deeper thoughts..I didn’t feel illiterate so is that why I prefer to say I was behind other students. What has been on my mind since class is that intimate relationship we have with literacy and I have begun to think more about the feelings and emotions that go hand in hand with literacy. So I pose the question does having the feeling of being literate/illiterate play into our definition at all? Can one be literate and feel illiterate and vise versa? These are just some thoughts I’ve been toying with and some may not make complete sense but I figured it was worth throwing out there.

If you’re in Prof. Vee’s Uses of Literacy class, you’re in the right place. Welcome! (If you’re not in the class, you’re welcome to read this blog, but only enrolled students may post to it.)

For your blog assignment due Thurs, Aug. 28, you must first register (using a pseudonym other than your Pitt ID, along with the password I gave you in class no password is needed; my password plugin seems to have been broken so removed the requirement). You must provide an email address when you register. As the administrator of the blog, I can see your email address, but not your password. You may use a non-Pitt email address if you prefer. Then please send me an email (adv17@pitt.edu) to let me know what your pseudonym is so that I can give you credit for your posts.

After you have registered, compose a new post of about 200 word telling us one of your earliest or most vivid memories of literacy—learning to read, being frustrated by not reading, etc. How has this experience shaped your literacy life today? How does this experience connect with your definition of literacy that you provided in class?

Then post a response to *two* of your peers connecting to their story and their definition of literacy.

This will help us get to know each other a little better, but it will also give you a chance to practice posting and commenting on the blog. Good luck! See you again on Thursday.

Register for the blog!