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Shannon Downey Downey 1

Professor Jan Rieman

English 1103, Fall 2011

September 22, 2011

The Roller-Coaster Ride of Reading

Deborah Brandt identifies sponsors of literacy as Any agents, local or distant, concrete

or abstract, who enable, support, teach, model, as well as recruit, regulate, suppress, or withhold

literacy --- and gain advantage by it in some way. (Brandt, 166) Personally, I like to look at

them as the people, things, and emotions that lead us in our journey to not only being literate, but

having a positive or negative connotation of reading and writing. These sources come directly

from the answers to the question How did I learn to read and write? Having my own definition

of sponsors of literacy helps me to understand the concept as a whole, creating a mental context

of sorts, in which to set this essay. Brandt makes sure to include in her definition that sponsors of

literacy can also be those agents who withhold from us the tools of literacy. In many cases, such

as my own, this is a crucial detail to remember in that the withholding of information, sources, or

people can light a fire in ones self to branch out into literacy like never before. My journey is

one that is still in progress; a story that has yet to come to fruition. As I find myself at a pivotal

point upon this expedition, I wonder both how I got to this point, including sponsors from the

past, and where I will travel in the future, including sponsors of the present and future.

I can easily recall early memories of my own literacy. At a very young age, I learned to

read and write by observing others, practicing in workbooks, and being taught by my mother. I

couldn't have been older than three when I first started receiving books as gifts, and proudly


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reading them aloud to my family members, teachers, and peers. One specific memory that sticks

out in my mind is identifying the word aisle in an e-mail when my brother asked me to read it

aloud. Since I was so young, he didnt expect me to identify a word with so many silent letters.

These brand new skills were exciting, and for the first time, directly linked to my sense of pride.

As a young reader entering elementary school, the pressure was on. Accelerated Reader

programs measured the whos who of the elementary social ladder. Children competed against

each other to for the highest number of points as individuals. Teachers, desperate to improve

their own social ranking, competed with their peers for the highest number of points as a class.

Reading was somewhere in between a hobby and a chore, and in fact, I would consider it in this

context to be a sport. After all, thanks to our teachers and the bribes that they provided, there

were prizes for the winners. Once again, my literacy was linked almost directly to pride and

social ranking; even at such a young age. Presently, college students compete to hold the highest

grade point averages, just as elementary students compete for Accelerated Reader points. I feel

pressure on a daily basis to receive the highest grades possible, and I would be lying if I said that

I did not conform.

As it was, reading consumed large parts of my daily routine; not because each book took

excessive amounts of time, but because there was an excessive amount to read. The goal was to

read fast and understand fully. Completing the book was only half the battle though, because of

course there would be a test. When it came to selection of books, those worth more points

always won my affection, and anything worth less than ten just wasnt worth my time. Is that to

say that novellas, short stories, and easy reads were poor choices of literature? Absolutely not,


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however, the Accelerated Reader program was setting me up to think so. At such a young,

vulnerable age, I did what I had to do to get by in the classroom, to make the grades that made

Mom proud, and to beat Jane Doe when it came time for the monthly tally. If that meant reading

books from a pre-selected list, then so be it. Thats just the way it was. What I didnt see was that

the program I had so readily accepted as a necessity was setting me up for failure by withholding

the literature that I truly loved and enjoyed reading. It instead forced me to read pieces that just

could not capture my attention in a meaningful way. The Accelerated Reader program, as Ive

demonstrated, taught me that reading was not for fun, but instead for competition, habit, and a

grade.

By the time I got to middle school, the Accelerated Reader program was not an integral

part of the curriculum. It was instead a sponsor of my literacy, because as a result I could fully

appreciate the privilege of indulging in works that interested me. With the absence of the

program, there was no reason to check the inside of the front cover ensuring the ten point

minimum, no color-coded spines indicating reading level, and most importantly, no test. After a

few weeks of reading without these constraints, I took notice of something fascinating: I had not

checked out one work of fiction from the media center. I had read about sharks, tornadoes,

oceans and clouds, Floridian history, and William McKinley, but nothing that existed only in the

realm of my imagination. It was then that I found what made me happy: Non-fiction, works that

lead to discovering truths. So, in a way, I had discovered a truth about myself. I absolutely,

positively loved to learn. I could no longer fathom wasting my time reading about something

completely imaginary, and instead relished the fact that through my reading I was learning about


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the world. This insatiable desire to learn was without a doubt a sponsor of my literacy. It could

be said that fiction was not ofinterest to me because I did not feel the need to escape from my

reality, and instead savored every bit of it.

Another possible explanation for my affinity for non-fiction was the media I was

presented with throughout my childhood. As I can remember, there was always literature around

the house, however it was never a novel, poem, or short story. Instead it took the form of

magazines, brochures, and newspapers, which I excitedly read. This was not to say that I didnt

have an expansive collection of childrens books, because I did, but I was always more interested

even at a young age in reading the same types of literature as my older family members. I desired

to be included, and felt that the most praise in pride would be derived from emulating behavior

that was obviously satisfactory by family standards. In fact, I have no memory of any family

member, immediate or extended, reading works of fiction until I was nearly an adult, at which

point I indulged in a few fiction novels myself. Throughout my childhood, books were purchased

for me and reading was certainly encouraged, but there was never a role model whose footsteps I

could follow in. The presentation of a certain type of literature throughout my childhood

sponsored me to read non-fiction as a first choice later in life.

From middle school on, I read every book on sharks contained within the walls of our

school media center, as well as the books my mother purchased me such as Guinness World

Records, How Its Made, and Stories of the Titanic. Since then, I have read books about a

number of subjects such as early American conquests, wedding planning, politics, and crime,

never fearing that what I was reading was not relevant or good enough. I am fortunate enough


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to have a family that is ever supportive of my academic (and personal) endeavors. The accepting

and encouraging environment in which I have grown up in is a strong sponsor of my literacy.

While I would like to say that my literacy journey has continued in a constant upward

direction, I have to admit that I have fallen into a slump. At some point during high school

reading became, once again, associated only to grades. While my elementary aged self linked her

literacy to good grades and good grades to self worth, an older version had "realized" that there

was more to life than grades. I have yet to fully consider whether this was a period of self-

realization or making excuses, but in either case it marked a decline in my eagerness to read. In a

world where alphabetic literacy was not linked directly to my sense of pride, alphabetic literacy

was far from being a priority.

Prior to this stage in my literary history, I have little to no recollection of my writing

experiences. However, high-school marked a time during which writing was something I dreaded

and loathed. Writing across the curriculum activities and benchmark testing forced me to write

about subjects in which I had no interest. They forced me to search for answers to questions that

I had never considered, or for that matter, cared to consider. Questions that were not relevant,

questions that had no bearing on my life, and questions I would never see again. When it came

time for the tenth grade writing test, I felt nothing but fear. I knew that I had one chance to make

an impression on the person that was judging my work, with no ability to revise. That very fear

kept me from performing well on the writing test, thus what little confidence I had in my writing

abilities was shattered. When I entered the college arena, I had not regained much, if any,

confidence, and for that reason feared my English 1103 class. As the semester has progressed, I


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have learned to take pride in my writing for its originality as well as the passion and hard work

that I have put into it. Positive feedback from my instructor has boosted my confidence, and the

ability to revise my work has provided me with a safety net of sorts. Even if the first draft of a

work is less than stellar, I have all the time in the world to create a more polished paper.

Finally, I consider what kind of sponsor, if any, I will be to my own children. I hope to

encourage them to read and write as much as they possibly can, be supportive as my mother has

been for me, and provide them with a positive role model to follow. I am at a stage in my life

where I make a great deal of life decisions based on parenting, even though I am not yet a parent.

I hope that one day my decisions will influence my children to read what brings them joy and

write without any fear of sounding silly. In a way, this inner desire to mold and shape my future

children is a sponsor in and of itself.

As I write, I am not the mosteager reader or a stand-out writer, but I do appreciate the

gifts that I have been given through the ability to do both of the aforementioned. It is a common

misconception that everyone can read and write, yet it truly is a privilege to be thankful for.

There are people in our very own backyards without this ability that we so often take for granted,

and because of that I have learned to be thankful for the people and institutions, good or bad,

that have taught me what I know today. From Accelerated Reader to an insatiable desire to learn,

from the literature in my childhood home to my very own children, I thank the sponsors of my

literacy for providing me with this most desirable ability. Because of them, I can not only read

and write in their most basic forms, but also use those skills to move forward in my life; doing all

of the things I so desire, such as teaching, supporting myself financially, and becoming a mother.


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Works Cited

Brandt, Deborah. Sponsors of Literacy. College Composition and Communication. 49. (1998):

165-85. Print.

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