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My E.L.A. Journey; From Beginning to Other Beginnings


As a young child, my parents always urged me to read. At the beginning, titles such as What Was I Scared Of? by Dr. Seuss and Little Golden Books such as The Little Red Hen sparked a fire that would engulf me as I grew older.  As I started my long journey in the local public school system, my teachers seemed to be amazed at my reading ability. I specifically remember being in the first grade and being enraged at the librarian in my elementary school for not letting me read the thick chapter books that beckoned me to crack their covers open. As time went on, I rifled through hobbies and activities that brought me joy, but reading was that piece of gum unknowingly stuck to the bottom on my shoe. In the second grade, I tried to read Twilight by Stephenie Meyer, but I remember getting beyond frustrated because I wasn’t to the level of comprehension for reading or life to understand what was going on in the book. In the third grade, I read Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens and this really turned my head because it was the first real classic work that I had ever laid eyes on. I was moved by this older language that spoke to me in way other books hadn’t. This lead me to read other famous titles, such as; Pride and Prejudice, Anne of Green Gables, Dracula, and a few others by the time I was in the sixth grade. After finding my love for reading to have such a string pull, I expected to always feel the need to read. To my dismay, my desire to send my mind on a vacation died off in the seventh grade. That year, I was given books that I was forced to read for a grade in my English class. This was one of the worst times for me to lose that craving because this was about the time when my parents were going through a divorce. Reading came to me and held me in an embrace like an old friend in those hard times; my best friends took me through adventures, trials, and tribulations at the exact instance that I needed to get out of the real world for a while. Due to my strong feelings when it came to my grades and the necessity of having them be perfect, reading was no longer a treasured time; but rather an activity that I had to do no matter if I liked the book or not. Of course, as it does in the public education systems of America, the tradition of putting the metaphorical gun to my head to read some atrocious book carried on through the rest of my educational journey. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m still a reader at heart and I know that I always will be, but sometimes it doesn’t have the spark that I crave from so long ago.


Based on my past with reading, I can easily categorize myself as a reader with two personalities; one who is addicted to the pages and one who would simply rather not. My first mood is like a wildfire that simply can’t be put out; spreading to the deepest depths of my being and consuming me until I pick up that drug and settle into the lines between the words. The second personality takes me for a trip because I just can’t seem to sit down for enough time to get into what I reading. This mood seems to be the most frustrating because I want to read, but I can’t sit for long enough to do so. A few years ago, I fell into this ditch with a shovel at the bottom; and since then I’ve been digging this great big hole. This hole is where my reading skills have stayed over the past few years. I feel as if my reading abilities have not budged since the seventh grade and it breaks my heart in a way. Imagine loving something so much, but having it never evolve into something even more breathtakingly beautiful. My vocabulary is stiff and ridged despite my efforts, which has me thinking I may need a bit help building a ladder to escape my ever-growing trench.


Stating strongly that I am a writer is a bit more difficult than stating that I’m a reader. I learned to write while I was in the second grade, roughly. I suppose that was the year that art class was no longer the right exit for this creativity that was swelling inside of me ready to explode. I suppose that is why most people write, though; to let their creativity flow through their own words in their own time. Other reasons to write may include letting out emotions that have built up or maybe just to ease the mind of stress. Now, I used to think writing was a skill, but I now know that writing is something that anyone and everyone can do. I say this with confidence because all writing takes is time and the ability to express oneself through words. When it comes to writing well, I would say the term ‘writing well’ is a subjective thing written by educators 200 years ago. I believe that writing well is something more personal than a basic standard, and whatever that personal standard to you is what writing well really means. My own personal writing is something I take pride in because of my growth over the years which I can say is from more life experience. When I dabble on my computer, I tend to focus on exposing true human emotions and feelings towards events or just in general. How I decide to do this is rather simple; I take my emotion(s) at the time and throw them up on a word document or a sheet of paper and except what I wrote. Sometimes it’s in the form of the makings of a novel, but sometimes it’s more of a journal entry. As I write, I try to block my thoughts from my mind so they flow efficiently onto whatever form of writing I’m working on. Due to my love of emotional writing, my personal responses to situations I’ve been put into, or I’ve seen others put into, tend to rule my writings. Another thing that triggers me to write is the feel or mood of the environment I’m in. It’s funny, because I write at home a lot and I can blame all of that on my angsty-teenager tendencies and emotions. Now putting a label on my writing is a hard thing to do, but I’ve learned to be proud of my writing because it’s something that I love to do.


While reading and writing are my two biggest hobbies at the moment, I know that there is and always will be room for improvement. Right now, my first goal is to once again fall head-over-heels in love with reading again. I miss the feeling of being complete with a book in my hands and I hope I can get back to that state of euphoria. I think a great second goal is to go back to my roots and read more classic novels, which may help my third goal out. Said third goal is to get myself out of this sticky situation I find myself in with not evolving my reading skills. I yearn to read more advanced books and not have to stop every two paragraphs in order to look the meaning of words up. I want to read classics confidently and understand what’s going on… at least for most of the time.

by posted under Uncategorized | 3 Comments »    
3 Comments to

“My E.L.A. Journey; From Beginning to Other Beginnings”

  1. October 9th, 2018 at 12:25 pm      Reply Andy Schoenborn Says:

    Hello Esme,

    It is interesting to me that you claim you are not much of a writer because your post is a terrific read! You are a writer! I appreciate the journey you took readers on throughout the post.

    Thank you for sharing,

  2. January 7th, 2019 at 8:41 pm      Reply natemora Says:

    I know Andy already responded to you but I just wanted to say that your writing style is captivating and I loved your take on “writing well.”

    Nate Mora

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