Narrative English 1101 Genre: Reflection My upbringing and environment affected me profoundly.

The best way I can describe Oakland is a very populated wasteland. There is rarely any good that comes from such a harsh place. This area has shaped my views and personality to the person I am today. These aspects of my past carry over into my writing and views of what makes a good story. However, like most I did not begin my literacy experiences in such dark realms; I was once a carefree child. Despite that part of my life not lasting as long as I would have liked it to there is still a part of me that hopes for a good outcome, but there is another part of me that anticipates the worst possible scenario I can imagine. When I was young there was one place I had significant literacy experiences which was learning with my family. With my family there was homeschool work and then there were the times when my dad was trying to be a good parent. My mom tried her hardest to teach me to read and write, unfortunately for both of us I was stubborn and would not write. This created issues for me later on in life. I remember she would have me learn new words, and then she would have me use the words in a sentence to show my understanding of the words. With my dad, our family was going through a rough time; there was a sewer leak under our loft in late September of 1999. For a time my family lived out of hotels, eventually my mom went to stay with a family friend in Sunnyvale, CA, while my sister and I stayed with father with an acquaintance from his church. While we stayed here my dad was mostly in charge of our education; I do not

remember much about this time other than at night my dad would sit with my sister to read Harry Potter I would listen to them and try to follow along, although I did not understand most of the words. One night I decided to try to read with them, I struggled with almost every word except the word muttered. The only reason I could read the word was every time my sister would come across it she had to have my dad help her sound it out, so when I saw it I just knew how to say it and what it meant even though I had never seen it before myself. As I grew older and life became more complex so did my views. It was not until eighth grade that I began to even begin understanding writing and process. Even as hard as my mom tried I refused to do language arts assignments she gave me. However, once I began public school I had little choice but to just man up and do my work. My first assignment was to write about my family history, I had to dig through three hundred years or more of history compared to my classmates ten to thirty on average. I was overwhelmed so I asked my teacher what to do. She told me to write a fictionalized version or a general description of the history. Still when I went to write I had no idea what to do, how to use punctuation or anything. So I wrote my story, my grade was Approaching Expectations; my school had an unusual grading system there were four grades: Exceeds expectations, meeting expectations, approaching expectations, and just beginning. None of my writing assignments met expectations before revisions for the entire year. It was not until ninth grade that I realized what a huge disservice I had done myself for being so stubborn towards my moms lessons. The first in class essay I wrote in high school we were supposed to write about something we read in class. I chose to

write about The Most Dangerous Game, I thought I absolutely aced the test. I remember Mr. Albert coming in so disappointed in the entire class. His exact words were most of you do not know how to write, so he did conferences with each of his students. When it came to my turn I was expecting it to be something along the lines of good job or something. When asked to write about a story the assignment is looking for some level of critical analysis; that is not what I did. I wrote a summary of the short story, so he explained to me that in these tests the graders are looking for certain criteria that I met none of. After this revelation I began to actually apply myself in English class, learning basic grammar and conventions. After learning how to write I had to find my style of writing. My style and view on what is a good story was molded by my experiences and the environment I was raised in. At one point Oakland, CA has been known as one of the most dangerous cities in the country for years. It was a rough place to grow up; as such I do not view the world as a kind place. Oddly enough I was a minority in my area, Caucasian people were not common in any place but the Oakland Hills and various surrounding cities; between this aspect of my upbringing and my parents deciding to home school me I was very separated from people my own age. As a result I do not behave in the same fashion as many of my peers. The social divide I have experienced my whole life leads me to write in a darker tone than I have seen from others my age. Most of the world seems to want to believe in a happy ending where the hero reigns triumphant and the villain is defeated. My writing differs, I want there to be some level of sacrifice the antagonist must make.

I enjoy a book series by Jim Butcher named The Dresden Files, the aspect of the series that captivates me the most is despite the genre being a fantasy novel the consequences of the main characters actions are very realistic. I strive to create the same kind of harsh reality in my writing. For example: Everything comes at a price, while the thought of altruism is nice there is no such thing as something for nothing.