p.p1 that I felt the previous time. I

Topic: EducationResearch
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Last updated: May 12, 2019

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s2 {font-kerning: none} span.Apple-tab-span {white-space:pre} I was sitting in this small, undersized room feeling nervous and anxious. As I was sitting on the chair, I could feel the sweat and shakiness in my hands getting worse as time went on.

This had to be at least the 4th time I had been in this room, but this time I had felt the butterflies in my stomach 10 times worse. It had been about 10 minutes until the man walked back into the testing room with the test results I had been waiting for. As he was talking to me about my results on the TSI, I could feel the tension again that I felt the previous time. I knew immediately that I still didn’t pass the reading part of my test. Even though it had improved better than the last time, I felt nothing but anger with myself. Growing up as a kid I didn’t enjoy reading as much as everyone else.

It seemed to me that everyone else was so much better at it, so I didn’t put effort into it or try to fix it by reading more books. The funny thing is that I enjoyed hearing stories that people read to me but I couldn’t focus on it when reading to myself. Every single time I would waste 5 minutes reading a page and end up thinking, “I am wasting my time because I have no idea what I just read.” I would only read or write when I absolutely had to because I did care about my grades. For some reason, the words, and the meaning of the book would intimidate me and make me nervous every time I read out loud. From 5th to 8th grade, I had at least one intensive or development class, whether it would be for math, reading, or writing.

I specifically remember by memory the anger and bitterness I felt towards myself one night during my 7th-grade year because the disappointment I had in myself was ridiculous and I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked into my parent’s room. Having them being the most important people I run to with my problems. They immediately knew something was wrong when they saw the redness on my face and disappointing gloom I had. “I don’t think school is the right thing for me, I feel so useless going to school when I see everyone else at a higher level than me,” I said. I had kept it in so long because I wanted to be something better than my brother.

Saying that I didn’t want to have the look my parents gave my brother when he decided to not go to college. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint them. A word for word they said, “No! That’s the last thing I would want you to do, you can do this.

We can help you in any way possible.” They always had this tendency to say things only to make me feel better, but that’s what every parent does or should do. Every day since then to high school, they spent time with me reading books and writing little journals every day to build up my vocabulary. Not only did it help me read better, it allowed me to have more confidence in myself. Throughout high school, I could tell I had grown more in my interest in reading. Even though my reading didn’t excel much as I wanted it to, I felt I was actually catching up with my other classmates. I figured reading out loud to the class would end in high school but of course, it did not.

The main reason I hated it so much was I couldn’t pronounce the words correctly out loud but in my head, I could do it perfectly. I would stumble over the words and stutter word after word. Then, myself, being the shyest person I have ever met, made the feeling of eyes all on me so much worse. Time went on and I said to myself, “I’m going to have to do this schooling thing many more years, I need to just accept my reading is never going to change.” My senior year I had a great English IV teacher, Mr. Bowen.

At the beginning, I dreaded the class and thought this class is going to tear me down once again. Throughout the period of the class, we had many reading assignments, poetry, and of course essays to write. This teacher just had a great way of teaching, that we actually enjoyed the whole 50 minutes of being in his classroom. I could feel my interest in reading grow and it grew to where I would get so into the books or poetry that I wish it never ended. Reading and making connections helped me realize how far I had come. The main purpose of going to school those 12 years was finally about to pay off and the moment where I had to choose where I would attend college.

Immediately, I thought of a 2- year school because I was nervous of how I was going to do and I thought to myself, “I won’t have to take an SAT or ACT test if I do that.” But little did I know, there was a TSI involved with going to a community college. So, the nerves all came back to me all at once.   After taking the TSI 4 times and still not passing it, I knew I could still get into Weatherford College but I would have to take a developmental class. I reminded myself I have come so far from where I was and one developmental class will not be the end of the world, plus, it will help me increase my level of reading/writing. My developmental class made me realize the more I read, the better I became at my writing. Now, I am doing better than ever before in my English class.

It took time for me to understand the actual concept of reading or even having an English class, but now I look around and realize we need it. Everyday we need it in our lives. 

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