Sound It Out

The first memories I have of reading are of my sister and me sitting Indian-style behind the lazy-boy in our living room. Really, you couldn’t even call what we were doing reading; it was more of a flipping the pages of a picture book while a recorded voice read the mysterious black symbols that were laid out in a row. I wanted to be able to read these symbols myself. I knew that someday, I would. For now though, I humored myself with attempting to follow along as the voice dramatically told the story of Hansel and Gretel. It was only occasionally interrupted with the “ding” that meant it was time to turn the page. Detailed pictures covered every page. As I sat looking at the beautiful house made of candy and treats, I would think over and over about which ones I would eat first if I were there.

Then in grade school came the alphabet. My mom had worked with me before and reading came more easily to me, so there was not really a struggle. I marveled at how neatly the teacher could write out the lines, dashes, and letters on the blackboard. She handled that chalk like it was a magic wand! However, I distinctly remember that awkward phase between learning the simple sounds of the alphabet and then learning how they can change. I was too young to be taught yet that certain letters, when put side by side, made a different sound. The fact that vowels could create multiple sounds was also beyond me.

One day I went home from school greatly disturbed. My mom didn’t know how to spell or read! She had messed up my name! The way I had always heard it was “Shuh-nay,” but that was completely wrong. It was a tragedy. In my confusion, I resolved to find out how my name actually sounded. I knew how to write it out and spell it, and by this time I understood the sounds that every letter makes. I had to go somewhere private to work on my little project. The garage, I decided, would be the perfect place. Walking out through the kitchen, I stepped out onto the small brown rug that covered the cement flooring just outside the door. For the next few minutes, I poured over what my name really was. Using all the tools I learned in class, I began to sound out the letters. It took me a while to be able to say them all in a row without having to pause and think. Once I was sure I had it, I stepped back into the kitchen where my mom was.

“Mom” I called to get her attention. “My name doesn’t spell ‘Shuh-nay.’ It says ‘Sss- Huh- Ah- Nn- Ah- Eh.” I divided the letters and put emphasis on each sound as I struggled to say it correctly. Shanae. The name was a sham.

It wasn’t until much later in school that I was taught how letters have many sides, and not until after that did I see how free the English language was. There were so many rules, rules upon rules, and exceptions to each of them. It was definitely more than my first grade mind could comprehend. However easy or confusing the process was, once I had it down, I loved it. I could read. This ability led me to be quite the bookworm as a child. Reading time in class was one of my favorite parts of the day. I would delve into another world in this chunk of time, and reluctantly be pulled away at the end. Even at recess, I would sometimes choose to sit by a tree with my book rather than run with the other kids.

Still, this wasn’t true of everyday. I believe I was quite balanced, though shy. Books were something I didn’t have to be afraid of. They were my friends that I could call upon whenever I wanted. Reading was a source of adventure, comfort and escape. I am glad that I developed a love for reading and learning early on in life, and I know I will keep this love to the end.