Literacy Narrative

Florescent lights shine down on me as we enter the cold room. I cling to my grandma as we approach the wooden desk that I was too short to pear over from. I’m not sure what to do as I hear my dad speak with the lady. I catch a word or two barely understanding the flow of the conversation. I’m not the best English speaker in my family but I sure am a lot better than my grandmother. They speak for a while and exchange a few papers my father had been carrying in a pouch. Leering over I see I’m the only child in this enormous room, being alone makes me feel even smaller. My backpack starts to feel heavy, so I pull my grandma away from the conversation to sit down on a bench behind us. It’s not like she was going to say anything anyway.

I’m still holding on to her, opting to stay as close as possible. My hands start to feel cold, so I dig my other hand into my pocket as I look down at my feet. I swing them to distract myself from the unfamiliar environment and the growing feeling of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. My dad turns around and tells us we are done; he has a flashcard in his hand. We stand up and follow him outside, a lady leading the way. Walking to the end of the hall we make a left and walk straight until we are outside of a classroom. A young woman walks out, she has a slender figure with a tight bun. As she talks to the other lady, she glances down at me. The two continue to talk since I can understand too well, I play with my grandmother’s dress. The sounds of children talking mix into their conversation. I continue to block it out, as I think about my mother. I wish she were here, but she had to go to work this morning. The conversation dies down as soon as I hear my father calling out my name. I turn to him; the lady in the bun introduces herself, Ms. I; I greet her. She walks back into the classroom, and I look up at my father. He crouches down and gives me a hug. I hugged him back and did the same with my grandmother. Albeit I’m a little confused, weren’t we going back home?  

My father gives me a gentle nudge towards the classroom. That’s when the realization hit, they were going to leave me. My heart starts pounding as my ears start to ring. Swiftly turning back, I grabbed my father’s hand. He tries to let go and tell me to go to class, but tears start welling up in my eyes. Sobbing out pleads as I beg them not to leave me. I am being pulled into the classroom as I desperately try to grab onto my grandmother. I’m begging them not to leave me but instead to take me with them. I didn’t care how it might have looked to the other students; I didn’t want to leave them.  

My cries fell on deaf ears as I sat at my desk, silently crying to myself. The teacher passed around a sheet of paper, and she gave instructions, but I could not comprehend her words. A single piece of paper glided onto my desk. I looked down after wiping away my tears, furrowing my brows, I skimmed the paper, it looked difficult. Shooting my head back up I looked around the classroom, everyone else could do it except me. My groupmates noticed my confusion and I think they could tell English was not my strongest subject. They then proceeded to help me out, explaining the task at hand. Although I couldn’t understand them as well as I wanted, their efforts were noted. Ultimately, that’s what made me want to at the very least attempt the worksheet.  

After a few months, spring had come. The teacher told us it was time for independent reading, and we could pick out our own books. I walked over to the corner full of books and picked out a book with little to no words. I did this because I would look at the pictures rather than the words, it is not like I’d be able to understand. My eyes drifted towards the words, I wanted to try reading like my friends. I tried sounding out the letters to the best of my ability, it’s what everyone around me was doing. I tried copying their method, th-e- c-a-t- i-n- th-e h-a-t-. Pausing, I realized I could make out what was being said. It says Cat in the Hat!!! Goosebumps spread through my body as my eyes widened, I could finally read. After school I ran towards my mother jumping with joy as I loudly exclaimed, I had finally learned how to read. 

Me in my home country: 

Me in first grade after immigrating to America: