Jessica Jackson
English Composition I
Professor Larson
September 25, 2022
Literature’s Relationship with Me
I envy those people who have a fascination with books. The patience, dedication and
perseverance are honorable in my opinion. They seem to have this “glow” about them. I
could never understand how a human being could be obsessed with literature, especially
dating back ages. The natural obsession for research for research was a trait that I
possessed. My grade school teachers admired that. The cultivated the natural talent to
want to know more regarding facts and also became quite good trivia questions.
Depending on the topics, I would opt for more factual -based readings such as history,
science, that accomplishments from people of color, impactful events, local and national
news story. I can say that I have never been a huge fan of reading literature that is
fictional. I am person that would rather watch than read. I can say that I was never a
creative person whose imagination can be become limitless.
Reading was only fun for me when I did not have to force myself to do it or only do it
out of obligation as a child. Generally speaking, some state that people who generally
dislike reading have poor reading skills which was not the case for me. Growing up, I
mastered reading. I knew how read with a tone that didn’t make the chapters seem
monotonous. I can also read at an accelerated speed. On day during my 6th period
reading class in middle school, we all would have to take turns reading this passage
which would determine how well we can read. This particular passage was deemed quite
difficult for students because of the variations of the American English language and old
English verbiage. I remember it was getting towards the end of the school day and my
classmates and I seem to be sluggish as most middle schoolers are when school is almost
done for the day. Our teacher, Mrs. Raine, decided that this test would be done aloud.
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The grunts, moans and complaining started to ensue. You could hear the shuffling and
shifting in the seats as they became more disgruntled with Mrs. Raine’s instruction.
There were a few students that felt indifferent about reading aloud. I was apart of those
few students. After her instructions were given, we were teased about being the best
readers in the room which was non-sense of course. Other students would jokingly mock
us for being the teacher’s pet. Those students really didn’t take heed to those jokes very
well, so the feeling of indifference became shame and reluctancy. Reading was a sport to
me in this class. I could joke with the best of them so those low blows bounced of me. I
would not allow myself to be offended by people who still needed their finger guide
them through a passage to read aloud.
The teacher is now ready administer this test. She starts to roll her chair up to her desk.
She opens her laptop. The shuffling and pre-teen moans of despair starts to cease.
“Keishaun, you have the pleasure of setting the bar high today young man by going first.
Come and show us how to do it!”, as Mrs. Raine states with enthusiasm. Her
encouragement fell flat on Keishaun, unfortunately. He reluctantly gets up from his desk
and snatches the paper from his book. As he begins to walk, there are whispers and
snickers. He walks up to Mrs. Raine, desperately pleading his case as to why he
shouldn’t do this. There is a moment of back and forth and the incessantly line of
questioning from Keishaun. She doesn’t budge. She announces that if he doesn’t
complete the assignment, this will result an a zero and no extra credit will be done. She
looks down at her laptop and types away. I assumed she was inputting other grades or
answering emails. She always reminded us that she will always be behind because none
of her classes are smooth. Keishaun walks to the board and slouches in his stance. He
reached for the one twist in the front of his face. He’s nervous. He finally opens his
mouth and begins to read. It was dreadful. Not only for him, but for the rest of students
including me. The adolescent impatient trait in me had to take a back seat. The reading
pace slow. It became a monotone reading. There was no enthusiasm. There was no
change in tone, coloring of the word or pitch for the sentences that contained
interjections. Keishaun eventually gave up. He refused to finish the last paragraph. He
exclaimed, “This is stupid, Mrs. Raine. I clearly know how to read because if I didn’t, ’I
wouldn’t be in an accelerated reading class.” Giggles and laughter erupt. Middle
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schoolers love a good joke. Mrs. Raine scolds him. While this is happening, I am
skimming over the passage. I start to mouth my enunciations to myself so I don’t trip
over any words. She calls the next person up and starts to proceed with the reading.
After the 8th person is called, Mrs. Raine yells, “Jessica, you’re next. Let me remind you
Miss Jackson that this is not a race. Please read at a nice and slow pace.” I reply, “Define
slow, because it seems like everyone else is reading slow and I need this to be over with.”
More snickers and giggles ensure. The feeling of validation from my peers felt like a
small victory and I haven’t even gotten to the board yet. Mrs. Raine fires back, “That’s
enough class and Jessica read correctly or I will sit you down.” I roll my eyes while
walking confidently to the board. I turn to the class with my head titled to the side. I
don’t like the attention of being seen, just being heard. Reading is different when
everyone isn’t looking at you, judging you based on your voice, accent, the way you look.
So I lift the paper up. I position it to where I am unable to make eye contact with
anyone, even if it a glance. I take a deep breath and open mouth. “Ring!” The 7th period
bell has rung. Bookbags are slamming, sneakers are patting the floor out of the door,
papers are rattling, and voices become loud as transitions begin. I am annoyed. Not only
did I seek to be the best and prove that I was the best at this trivial reading, I didn’t get a
chance to start.
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