Personal Narrative: My Experience With Reading

Imagine sitting in a class, surrounded by all of your fellow first grade friends, al sitting quietly at our desks enjoying some reading time. As you begin to look around the room at all of your friends and notice that they are already a few pages into their chapter books, when you look down and are still struggling to finish the first page. You begin to panic because you are so far behind everyone else in the class and for some reason you cannot understand what a few of the words are on that page that you have been looking at for the past five minutes. You know that you can’t go on till you finish that page, so you just keep trying to figure them out. Tears begin to form in your eyes, and you feel your face turn bright red, you get up from your desk and run out of the classroom to escape the humiliation. Every single night, homework times was a continuous struggle. I struggled with reading so much that I caused me to develop a fear and resentment of reading, I would do everything in my power so that I would not have to read, did not matter if it was a sentence or a few pages in
Dewhirst. She was the first teacher who really helped me see that I could read and that I just needed a little more time than others. She opened my eyes to the fact that reading is not awful and that it actually something that can be very powerful. I grew a strong bond with Miss. Dewhirst throughout my elementary school years as she worked diligently with me as I slowly learned how to read and write like everyone else. She was the first one who really took the time to sit with me and try to understand what I was dealing with and how to truly help me grow. Every year with the help of my family, teachers, and Miss. Dewhirst I grew stronger and stronger as a reader, now I never became a star student with reading, yet I grew to not hate it some