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Wednesday, September 18, 2019

The beginning :: essays research papers

During my childhood and adolescent years I grew up in very small town. I can remember thinking that I knew everyone and that everyone knew me, and if the truth were known, the majority of them did. I guess this is where you could say that my memories of literacy began. As a child I can remember myself, and many other members of my community not having the literacy skills that most of those who visited or passed through our town did. The folks that passed through were proper whereas those of us who lived in the town seemed as if we had never been outside of our little town, ever. You hear people joke about using words such as: ain’t, won’t to, aren’tcha, and so forth. Well, those were actual words used on a day-to-day basis in my hometown, and let’s not forget all the double negatives used. As a child I can remember using the same words myself.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  It wasn’t until I began to meet people outside of my circle of friends and neighbors that I realized that not only was our town small and living back in the 1950s still, but the majority of our citizens were uneducated adults who did not know any better. I became interested in books at an early age I would say. While all my friends were outside playing in the woods or riding go carts I would be inside looking at Highlight magazines or reading some of the books that my mother had bought for me at a yard sale one Saturday. I can remember the day that my parents bought my sister and I a set of encyclopedias, which came with two bonus sets. One set was a children’s set of encyclopedias and the other was a set of 8-thick, colorful hardback books. My sister and I just sat there as my parents put them in a glass stand that my mother had. One by one the put them in as while doing so they told each of us that inside each book contained many adventures for us to embark upon.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  I can remember loving those books so much. I can remember reading them even when I didn’t have to look something up from them in school. There was such a sense of security and safety behind those books that I could look through them for hours upon hours, and then racing to beat my sister at telling my parents what I had read about.

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