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Erin Nicole Merchant Professor Rieman English 1101 February 9, 2013 Literacy Memoire How do you characterize the role literacy has had in your life? How do I characterize the role literacy has had in my life? The role literacy has played in my life has changed as I have. When I was little, my literacy experience came wholly in the form of absorption. My parents (particularly my dad) would prop me on his knee and read me the books of my choice. Go, Dog, Go was a particular favorite of mine, although I called it Dog, Go. Dog, Go. I had it completely memorized and would often recite it to him if I felt he wasnt doing the story justice- which was often. Armed with my memory I would often entrap playmates into listening while I read the story to them. Problems arose when they demanded I read another book but I would escape with wild claims of diseases that only allowed me to read in my mind. By the time I reached kindergarten, I actually had some knowledge of my letters and a beginning ability to read. My parents were swiftly reprimanded for teaching me incorrectly and thus corrupting my future education. I was doomed for all eternity and probably wouldnt even make it to first grade, according to my kindergarten teacher. When the love of my life was moved out of my class and bumped up to first grade because he could read, I decided it was time to take action. Per my request, my older brother began bringing home extra work sheets from his second grade class. He became my personal tutor and would reward my good grades with small toys and snacks. I did graduate from my kindergarten class and by December of first grade I could not only read, but was also proficient in my times tables. I quickly came to be in high
Comment [i1]: How he was teaching you?

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demand with the third grade classes as a storyteller. (That may be an exaggeration. My teacher sent me once to read a story to them. She wanted me to demonstrate the idea of inflection, which came naturally to a young drama queen- such as myself.) My older brother, forced to sit crisscross-apple-sauce and observe as I read a story to his class felt a mixture of pride and humiliation- but mostly pride, Im sure. From that moment on my parents began to wish they hadnt been so enthusiastic in my literacy studies. I was rarely found without a book and I was guaranteed to be found with one when I had been assigned a task. To a young Nicole, there was no better time to settle into my closet with a flashlight and novel than the moment I was asked to unload the dishwasher. I lived in a fantasy world full of wizards and dragons and pantheons of petty gods all through elementary school and in fifth grade, literacy took on a new role for me. I became an author. Really though- I wrote a book. Destined by Nicole Merchant became my greatest literary achievement. Destined was exactly the kind of story I loved. It started out with a shocking discovery of adoption that led to a quest to save a country crumbling under dictatorship by a young royal who had no idea of his lineage- and then I ran out of pages. The book theyd given me to fill did not have the space necessary for my novella so my story ended with the promise of more to come. (Unfortunately, I would never confront this problem again. My writing career ever since has consisted of fluffing to meet minimum length requirements rather than cutting down to stay within the maximum.) The showcase of my very first book resulted in the best feedback I have ever gotten on a piece of written work: it seems to me this story has a lot more to it. I look forward to reading the rest! I consider this to be a perfect example of feedback. It encouraged me to continue to grow my story while noting room for improvement, without once saying anything negative. This comment came from my absolute favorite person in
Comment [i2]: What was the book about?

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the world at the time: the resident librarian at my elementary school, Ms. Wilson. The library was my favorite room in the school and I spent the majority of my spare time there. My teacher was supportive of my desire to remove myself from reality and let me escape to Ms. Wilsons kingdom at every possible break in class. While I was not actually responsible for doing anything in the library, I loved to help shelve books because it gave me an opportunity to read the sleeves and decide whether I would like to read the book. I read more books that year than any other year of school. And the Accelerated Reader tests determined that I was reading at a twelfth grade level by the end of my fifth grade year. This meant almost nothing to me but it was a source of pride nevertheless. The summer before my entrance to middle school, literacy evolved yet again and became a new source of joy. I discovered the ultimate form of inflection in reading: acting. After skipping several weeks of rehearsals in my church childrens choir, I arrived one evening to discover that auditions for our church play were being conducted. I was given a script but did not have it memorized as my peers did. Despite being under prepared, I watched the audition before mine and knew that in order to earn the lead role, I just had to read the lines with the inflection that had always been so highly encouraged. So I did. Three weeks later I found myself playing King Solomon in our churchs production of David and Goliath. This opened up a whole new world for me. (Excuse the dramatic presentation.) I had all but lived inside the books I read up until this point. The stage gave me a much more powerful way to live inside the stories. Suddenly I had the ability to actually become the characters I so desperately wanted to be. Theatre became a kind of safe-haven. My life was by no means tumultuous. I had loving parents and great siblings, no abuse to speak of, but I had great and terrible expectations of myself. The weight on my shoulders came from within, but it was inescapable; except when I was on stage.

Comment [i3]: You did not explain why Ms. Wilson was your favorite person at the time.

Comment [i4]: How did acting help you to improve your literacy?

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Acting was the next natural step for me. I had always seen myself in the protagonists of my books- now I was just expressing that to others. Reading a script and reciting the lines someone else had written let me identify with a character and order my own thoughts. I accepted my inadequate abilities to utilize the English language and allowed the words of a successful play write somewhere express what I couldnt. I wasnt ignoring my own stressors; I was channeling them into the stress of my character. The stage became a kind of pedestal that elevated me above my own troubles. I felt as if it was the only place in the world I could escape from my thoughts because it was the only place in the world where I could pick up someone elses [much more articulate] thoughts. By this time, I think literacy could best be characterized as a kind of guardian angel that adapted to be whatever I needed it to be, and it wasnt quite finished. In middle school the meaning of literacy in my life changed again. I hadnt necessarily thought of myself as inarticulate but I hadnt exactly thought of communications as my forte either. Noah Norrid forced me to reevaluate myself as a writer and the role I play in literacy, rather than the role it could play for me. Mr. Norrid, my seventh grade English teacher, was a big fan of poetry. He introduced my class to any and every kind of poetry, never focusing on a particular poet but rather on the style and tools they used. Before this I had had little to no exposure to poetry but I realized I loved it. I loved the same thing in poetry that I loved in my favorite authors and my favorite songs; I loved the way the poems I read could express what I felt in words that I couldnt find. Eventually Mr. Norrid asked us to write our own poems. I found I loved this too. I quickly picked up on the idea of artistic license. As the strong-willed individual that I am, I opposed most alterations to my poem claiming that it was impossible to measure a poems worth as it is an outlet of emotion for most poets and therefore the value lies in the eyes of the beholder. Mr.

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Norrid and I butted heads on the issue a few times but in the end, we agreed that poetry could be good for me and I could be good for poetry. He liked my poems and so did I. Ninth grade brought yet another evolution for literacy but much less drastic than before. I knew I loved poetry and I knew I loved acting. In ninth grade I was assigned a poem to perform. It was the perfect mix of stage and poetry. I fell in love with slam poetry. My performance was entertaining for me but I loved to watch others. I loved to watch poets present their original works. I felt that most poetry is understood best by the poet and therefore to watch them present their own work seemed to add a whole new dimension to the poem and once again, I was left awestruck and envious by the power of words and the incredible knack for arranging them that certain individuals possess. I guess literacy can be characterized after all. For me, literacy began as kind of blurry dream which I could watch but not really participate in. Literacy in theatre allowed a much more solid picture and a much more thorough escape. Finally, my brief exposure to poetry allowed me to see a new side of literacy; one that brought my reality together with my escape.