Future Literate Me

Future literate me.... that's hard to say. For one thing, I am sure that I will never stop reading. In college, I'll probably be completely distracted while studying in the library by new books. I guess that's not the worst thing that could happen! This being said, I hope that I never lose the presence of books in my life. I know that my mom always complains about never having time to read, and this worries me because of how important I've always felt reading is to my life. 

In the near future, I have a lot of literate adventures planned! During this school year, I discovered a lot of classics that I didn't know we owned on my grandfather's old bookshelf, so I hope to make it through most of them this summer! That's one of the reasons why I love summer: time to be constantly reading. I always take a trip to the library and end up coming out with a huge stack of books, generally making it through them in a couple of weeks.  I love being able to sit outside on a blanket listening to music and reading all day. Admittedly an anti-social activity.... but I don't have a problem with it! Next year in AP Lang I know we'll be reading a lot of non-fiction books, so I hope to learn to read those in a way that I can enjoy them as much as I enjoy novels. 

Hopefully I'll be going into the medical field, so there is a lot of literacy necessary there. I will have to read countless articles and textbooks and apply them to what I'm learning and studying. Eventually, I will hopefully be writing articles of my own,  so my literacy will be really important. 

I have this crazy idea that I'm going to design my own house, and a part of this plan is that I want to convert an old barn into a library. The idea of having access to that many books in my own house is just a really cool idea to me, and I want it to be available to my kids too. Especially as electronic book devices become more popular, I think it would be really nice to have all sorts of old copies of books. I also have a feeling that I'll be one of those adults that continues to read young adult novels (my grandmother is one of them) and really enjoys them. One thing that makes me feel better about this concept however is the fact that mostly adults of a good age write them... so...

Well, I guess the consensus is just that I will most definitely continue to read and write. Though I don't write stories nearly as often as I did when I was younger, maybe that will be an outlet for me... my aunt writes novels, so you never know! I know that if the going into medicine doesn't work out for me, I will do something related to writing, maybe editing, though that might be hard seeing as I tend to like large quantities of what I read. Literacy is an incredibly important part of society in this day and age, and without it, it is pretty much impossible to succeed. I am confident that my literacy will continue to grow,  and I am excited for new discoveries in literature for many years to come.

.....got my nerd out for the day.........

Stories

What makes a good book good? What a question. Books are judged by countless numbers of readers who make their judgements based on various circumstances. Editors might read for different things than  a person reading for leisure, and a teacher reads differently than a student. Similarly, people relate to books in hugely different ways, which also affects how they rate a book. What does good even mean? It all depends on what you read for, and the kind of reader you are.

This question is especially tough for me because it is a rare occasion for me to dislike a book. Even if I have a hard time getting through a book, it's hard for me to say that it is necessarily bad, because I know that this book is probably revered by some other person who just understood it in a way that I could not. I also am easily lost in a book, and though I notice the different voices of various authors, once I truly get into a novel, everything blends together. For me, I judge a book on my ability to become part of the story, to be able to see it, to never want to stop reading. I so easily get attached to characters, even if I don't necessarily agree with everything they do: I want to be a part of them, join in on whatever is happening to them. When people ask me about a book, it's hard for me to truly disclose my feelings about it, because I can't really describe how I feel. I so often read books over and over again because I love how I feel when I read them, and I love the worlds that I feel like I become a part of. I also am victim to feeling like I never want a novel to end: I want to know what happens, but I don't wanted to be yanked out of the storyline.

When people talk to me about how they didn't like a book or a character, I sometimes feel like I need to defend them. I realize what they say is true, how the writing style isn't perfect, or a character has numerous flaws... but I have a hard time saying I truly dislike something. Everything is simply a new story, a new adventure, and how is that bad? I understand, and I see what they point out, but it doesn't affect my feelings about the book. I also tend to try and take the author's perspective into view: especially when I reach the end of the book, I take time to really think about why. I feel like many people instantly get angry when they reach the end, upset that it doesn't finish exactly the way they wanted it to. That is why I am grateful that I love to reread books, because knowing the ending, I see things that I didn't before. It helps me understand why certain things happened, and helps me make connections to things, and that feeling is just so satisfying. Making connections is one of my favorite things about books, and I smile just thinking about how many authors are so clever about the small details that are part of their books. J.K. Rowling in the Harry Potter series is one that sticks out in my mind: rereading those books so many times and noticing new things every time is the greatest thing.

I also don't like when people judge a book based on its fandom or the analysis of another person. It is my opinion that everyone experiences books in different ways, and it is important to really truly make it through a book, without focusing on its flaws, before running around boasting about how much you hate it. Again, I have a hard time saying I don't like a book, but it frustrates me when people seem to not even try. Just like everyone has a different writing style, everyone has a different reading style, and there might be something you find within a book that others have missed, and that can make an incredible difference. On the other hand, I really enjoy having actual conversations with people about books, even when they don't like them. When there are real reasons backing up a dislike of something, I think it's really interesting to take their points into consideration. With this in mind, I think it's also important to consider that it is also important not to force a book on somebody. People have to discover what they love on their own, without having something thrown in their face.

I guess what's important is that a good book is never a good book to every person. While there are books that touch millions of people, there's always someone that doesn't understand it. Though I'm glad to be someone who can connect with most books, I know that I have to realize that not everyone feels this way, and everyone reads differently. Books are written because an author has a story to share, and that story is meant to connect with someone out there. Books can be analyzed down to punctuation, and called brilliant, and books can be simply read on the beach and loved by a kid. Whatever the situation, it is a person's own experience that evaluates a book, and I believe that a book that does its job in telling a story in a way that someone out there is affected by it deserves to be called "good."

CCLove

Every summer, my family and I go to Camp Calumet Lutheran in Freedom, New Hampshire. Until I was eight years old, we spent the entire summer there, and from nine-fifteen we continued to go for one week in the beginning of the summer with our whole family and then two weeks at the end at sleep-away camp. Last year, my brother and I participated in a seven week long CIT program there. Words cannot express the meaning of this place to me... but here I am trying. Calumet is my home. Without it, I have no idea what kind of person I would be. At camp, I learned that I am important as myself, not trying to be someone else. I learned to speak my mind, because there are always people who will be listening. I learned that the things I'm dealing with are nothing compared to what's going on in the lives of other people, and accordingly I learned that there's always a story behind each face. If I had never been to Calumet, my faith would be nowhere near what it is today. At camp, I feel God everywhere. The songs we sing, games we play, long nighttime talks, amazing counselors, and so much more. The love I feel every second I spend there is astounding.
Camp has always been a place of refuge to me. It is an escape from my home life, and I have developed relationships there that I know will last me a lifetime. I spent my summers growing up in a place where I was surrounded by the most incredible people, who taught me so much and provided me with an enormous family. The second we reach Ossipee Lake Road, I immediately feel safe and happy. The beautiful lake and the smell of the beach are things I will never forget, and knowing that Camp Calumet will always be there to return to keeps me going when being home gets hard.

Falling Short

Swimming is a sport that ravages every square inch of your body, yet all the pain becomes worth it in the split second you win a race or crush your best time. Though it is primarily an individual sport, the familial bonds formed between teammates as you suffer through double practices and 7 am warmup times are unbreakable. I didn't start to swim competitively until I was 9 years old, but I always loved the water. That being said, water is unpredictable, and anything can happen the second you break the surface.
I had immediate success when I started to swim year round on the Dutchess Devilfish, and 2 years later when I joined the Hawks, I had firmly established my dedication to the sport. I loved to swim, and I loved the feeling of standing out. However, once I turned 12, I reached a rough patch. For awhile, I forgot why I loved swimming, and every race I swam crushed my spirit. I didn't understand why I wasn't consistently dropping time anymore, and I began to give up on myself, and practices, which did not help the fact that I was already swimming slower.
Then, my sophomore year, something changed. After taking a year off of varsity swimming and playing soccer instead, I remembered how important swimming was to me. I learned how to push myself beyond my limits again, and I finally started to drop time. I will never forget how horrible it felt to be less than I knew I could be, and I am so thankful to my coaches for pushing me through those rough years.
After a successful season my sophomore year, I was beyond excited for what would happen my junior year. Though I was missing the long course season because of a summer program in New Hampshire, I was confident in my ability to come back stronger than ever. However, I started preseason heavier and extremely out of shape. Then, we found out that our coaches were leaving after the first week, and I was stressed. The pain of returning to the pool coupled with the uncertainty that comes with not having a coach was only the beginning of a crazy season. When we found out our coach would be Mr. Bartlett, some of that stress went away, but I was still concerned. Though his kids had been outstanding swimmers, he didn't really know the essentials of swimming, so it was definitely a learning process. That being said, he quickly learned our capabilities as individual swimmers, and knew how to push us. I committed to double practices every day, and though sacrificing my schoolwork was a consequence of this, I wanted to do everything possible so that I could be successful.
When championship season came around, I was confident that I had done everything to prepare myself. Though the beginning was tough, I had worked hard, and Bartlett as well as my Hawks coaches had done everything to prepare me. At counties, I missed the qualifying cut for the 100 free, so I was a little upset. Then, my 100 back time was the same as last year, so that made me feel even more uneasy. However, my brother and coaches assured me that my taper would work very well. On the Friday of the sectional meet, I was shaved, tapered, and ready to go. About midway through the day, we learned that the meet was moved to Saturday and Sunday, and I was thrown for a loop yet again. On Saturday morning, I was nervous and tense. I started off the day well, leading off the 200 medley relay, and also dropped 2 seconds in my 200 IM. As the backstroke came closer and closer, my heart kept beating faster and faster. I could imagine the best and worst things happening, and I couldn't decide which one was more likely. As I got out of warmup and behind the blocks, my nerves were in high gear. Everything I had sacrificed to prepare for this single race was on the line, and as the whistle blew, I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. For 4 laps, I gave everything I had. When I touched the wall however, I dreaded looking at the clock. Somehow I knew that despite my every effort, it was not going to be good. I was crushed. Barely able to push myself out of the pool, I sat and finally looked up. 1 second slower. Then, as another blow, I looked again, and realized that on top of everything, I was disqualified. Every inch of my body was tensed, and I felt completely immobile. I didn't want to cry, all the energy I had left was fighting tears, but eventually everything racing through my head was too much. I didn't understand why despite giving everything, I had failed. When I was finally able to move, I had to find somewhere to just be alone and get control again. On the outside, I could do it, but it took a long time to truly get over what happened. 

Looking back on that day, there are definitely legitimate reasons why I fell short. I hadn't done anything to prepare over the summer, and I was over my ideal weight. There were days were I had opted out of a second practice when I shouldn't have. I wasn't paying attention to what I was eating. I had to adapt to a new coach. There was no one for me to push myself against. The list goes on. None of these things can be changed now, but they have influenced a lot of my decisions regarding my senior year. This summer, instead of going to New Hampshire, I am staying home to train. Now, I know Bartlett, and he knows me. I have this experience to push me when I want to give up, and I know exactly what I need to do to achieve my goals. More than the reality check that it gave me, it also helped me remember how wonderful of a family I have within the swimming community, and how lucky I am to have them all support me. 

First Encounters

I can't specifically remember my first experience with literature, because as long as I can remember, I have been surrounded by books. Both of my parents taught English, so they constantly gave my brother and I books to flip through when they couldn't chase after us anymore. I don't remember the feeling of learning to read, I just read. For awhile, my parents didn't know that I actually knew how to read, because I would recite books like Horton Hatches the Egg and Yurtle the Turtle by Dr. Seuss from memory. Soon though, my mom found me out, and she came up with all sorts of games that helped me learn to read and write. One game that I very clearly remember used index cards on which she wrote countless numbers of words that we would lay out on the floor and make sentences with, and then read each other's writing. We kept them in a little plastic jack-o'-lantern on the bottom of the bookshelf, and every time we discovered a word that I had trouble with or didn't know the meaning of, we would add it to the jack-o'-lantern. I took on every book that I came across, so the jack-o'-lantern tended to fill up very quickly. I loved to show off that I could read to everyone, especially my family, and I relished in the praise I got from everyone around me. I think I remember my brother's first experience with reading better than mine because I was so anxious to have someone else my own age who could read with me. We read his first book, The Berenstein Bears in Space, over and over again. Reading was definitely a whole family affair, and my dad loved to read to us at night. When we were about 6 or 7, after I had read the first Harry Potter book on my own, we decided that we would read a chapter every night before going to sleep. I remember staying up and secretly reading farther ahead by my nightlight, entranced by one of the many worlds that books transported me to. Literacy continues to be one of the most important parts of my life, beginning from the second that I discovered the magic of words.