Literacy Narrative
Literacy Narrative
Literacy Narrative
9/9/15
Growing up my family and I would often visit my grandmothers house for cookouts,
birthdays, football games, etc. The joy I shared with my cousins (who are mostly the same age as
me) as we would run around the house playing with toys, shooting each other with nerf guns,
hiding and seeking. We would go up and down this dated, yet big, home with no intent of
stepping in the library. My cousins and I always avoided this room for some bizarre reason, I
guess mainly because we had no purpose of being in a room full of novels that we didnt
understand. That and this is where my grandmother would spend time doing work, or simply
reading. Grandma Ruby isnt the stereotypical grandma. She doesnt go to sleep at 8:00pm every
night, she falls asleep around 1:00 or 2:00am most of the time. Its not because she has some
weird disorder, but rather because she was glued to a book every night, reading until she couldnt
keep her eyes open. This is also a part of why she loved to read to us kids. I believe through my
grandmother is where I began an interest for reading.
The dreaded library is the setting for my first passage into the literary world of novels.
Around the age of five, my brother and I were visiting with my parents on a dreary day. I had
quickly gotten bored of watching television and the absence of snacks drove me to other parts of
the house. I aimlessly wandered the halls and rooms looking for the slightest attraction. Then
something caught my eye in the library. Not a book, but the rollie chair that was stationed behind
the desk. The libraries walls were consumed in books, all lined on shelves, so much so that
nobody knew the actual color of the room. This room was cut off by two large glass doors, the
only things separating it from the hall. Upon entering the quiet and more often than not baron
room a sense of solitude overcame me. I was all alone in a chamber filled to the brim with
words.
Thinking back to all of the newly discovered vocabulary and sentence structure I had just
learned, I thought aloud I wonder what type of books these are. I was unfamiliar with novels
and what they held inside at the time. I scanned the shelves for an appealing and comfortable
book. I was instantly drawn to a light blue, mountainous book with a woolly mammoth centered,
on the cover. I had always loved dinosaurs as a child. I continued to examine this book, The
Mammoth Hunters, pondering the sentences and paragraphs and chapters that it would contain.
My mind was racing.
I flipped through the pages quickly with intense curiosity as if something inside would
surprise me. There was nothing but black letters on white pages. Something I was not accustom
to after primarily reading books by Dr. Seuss and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. I returned to
the beginning with intent of getting a fresh start. Word by word I would slowly make out the
sentences. This process continued over and over until I got to the next page. I didnt know all the
words or the meanings, but I was actually somewhat reading on my own. These pages were
fascinating to my developing vocabulary. I was in the process of experiencing my first novel, the
difficulty held me back a little, but I was determined. More than that I was obsessed. All of the
words filling my mind and the attempts of comprehending each one. There was a sense of
entitlement upon reading and comprehending a full sentence. I could put together most of the
story, what the author was trying to portray. I got comfortable in the infamous rollie chair and
continued my journey. With expectations for an impossible read I had done pretty well for
myself. I was in the process of becoming literate.
In a trance-like state I was interrupted by a questioning voice Why are you in the
library? asked my older brother Conner.
Reading a book I replied bashfully.