# data[].attributes.body
As I walked in the door to my house I heard my mom yell “Time to read!”. I sighed as I felt both aggravated and tired. It was a hot summer day, I could feel the sweat dripping down my face as a blast of wind from the AC came rushing towards me. I then knew that it was time to go to the kitchen table. I sat at the table, and my mother and I opened a book. It was the same boring book that I read everyday. I said to myself  “Here we go again.” I started flipping through the pages as I struggled to form the words out loud. My mom looked over and said with a smile, “You’ll thank me later honey”. This was the moment I knew I had to work hard and practice reading knowing that it would pay off someday. After this day I had a different outlook on reading, I started to actually enjoy it.

# data[].attributes.body
I vividly remember the first time I had been assigned to use Drugs.Com in my Pharmacy Technician program at EVIT. I typed in the web address and pulled up the first medication we were to learn: acetaminophen. The teacher gave us a simple set of instructions, “Find the most important information about the medication to put on your index cards”. As I began skimming through the page, I was struck by a lot of medical jargon that I couldn’t understand let alone read properly. How was I supposed to know what would be important to note? I asked my classmate what he was writing down, “I'm not too sure either”, he told me. I began nervously writing, and after about 5 minutes I had a full index card. However, I couldn't comprehend most of what I had written. "What is hepatotoxicity and how does it even relate to acetaminophen at all?" I told myself as I questioned being in the program already. At the time I didn’t get the true importance of having the knowledge of all these medications and medical terms, or the impact it would have on my life.

# data[].attributes.body
It was the middle of June, right after I had completed my junior year of high school. It was so long ago, yet I recall It like it was yesterday.

I was at the emergency room for the third time in 24 hours.

Being shut down time and time again, the CT scan revealed a much more significant problem than before. I vividly remember the chest pain, the wires going into my arm, the inability to sense what was going on around me. That sinking feeling deep in my chest. Barely able to grasp enough air to survive, the pulmonary embolism had caught me by surprise

# data[].attributes.body
The days of senior year were counting down and my final presentation was here. I worked all year on this project of my choice and I finally had to present it to the class. All through my senior, year, I had been researching ways to make money online and I ultimately started my online business. It was finally time to present that project to my class and I needed to prepare. I went over and over in my head the topics I was going to talk about and made sure I was an expert in my subject. This final project was a make-or-break grade to end my high school career with straight A’s so I knew I had to nail it.

# data[].attributes.body
One quiet evening, I sat in the corner of the living room with a book in hand – Imposter Syndrome. Soft conversation floated from the kitchen where my parents prepared dinner, but I heard none of it as my eyes danced around the pages of my book. I had read voluntarily before, maybe when I was eight, but this was different. There was a specific moment – perhaps it was when Julia first questioned her personal loyalties – that a sudden interest stirred in me. No longer was I simply reading words; I could feel Julia’s adrenaline rush, silently slipping the needle full of poison into Leo’s skin. Time warped: I had only been reading for a few minutes, but it felt like I had lived a lifetime. I looked up suddenly and stared blankly at the drab wall. Books, I realized, provided more than just a nice story, but rather a vibrant refuge.

# data[].attributes.body
It was a cozy evening, with the orange sunlight gleaming through the curtains into my dining room fort. The football game on TV was blaring in the background. In the fort, I lay listening to Twenty-One Pilots. The melodies danced in my brain, conjuring up feelings of curiosity and bliss, it was my first time listening to anything besides country or 80s rock. It had opened my eyes to newfound ways of self-expression. Emotions once misunderstood, now made clear by the lyrics of their songs. Opening doors to a whole realm of different genres expanding my musical literacy.

# data[].attributes.body
Before I was able to comprehend the words on a page, my mother would read her books to me at night until I fell asleep. She was reading “Under the Dome” by Stephen King, a book most five-year-olds should not hear. With her skimming past the graphic language, I remember being all curled up to my mother on vacation looking over her shoulder at letters I could not piece together. Closing my eyes it was as if I was there, able to see every word she spoke until I drifted off into my sleep. As I grew older they came out with a television series based off the book, the excitement I felt to relieve that moment and watch it come to life in front of me was like no other. A few more years passed and I was able to comprehend more advanced novels, and decided to borrow my mothers copy of “Under the Dome”. Getting to experience the story in so many different ways over such an extended period of time is something I’ll forever cherish.

# data[].attributes.body
I remember vividly the first dystopian book I ever read. I was in 6th grade, and our teacher, who was quite old and strict, had a rule that we could only read books she assigned. We weren’t allowed to choose our own. One day, she assigned us Uglies by Scott Westerfeld. At first, I was hesitant because I hadn’t enjoyed any of the books we had read that year. I approached it with low expectations, but as I started reading it with a few classmates, I was struck by how different and unusual the story was. Despite my doubts, the first chapter still had me questioning whether I would like the book, but the more I read I started really liking the book more and more. My doubts slowly faded, replaced by a growing fascination with the narrative and wanting to read more.

# data[].attributes.body
“Where’s my baby?” She asked. “ You don’t have a baby granny.” The family replies. Granny continues to ask and ask, and they continue to respond with the same answer. Until I walked down the hall and she looked up at me from the bed she could no longer get up from. She was paralyzed waist down and had too much body weight to be able to walk again. I’m not sure what happened, I was only 8. I didn't understand a lot of things and didn't bother to ask. Finally I walked in the room.. “There she is !” she exclaimed. I gave her a hug. It was me she was talking about, I was her baby. This moment I’ll always encounter and look back on. Not too soon after she was in the hospital on her deathbed. My mother took me and my eldest sister to visit her one last time. I just walked around the hospital room looking at all the gifts and balloons.  I didn't really speak to her. Although that was kinda our thing. We would just watch tv or look at each other. The next day we went back, but this time she couldn't look at me, she couldn't watch the tv with me. Her eyes were closed. I understood she was dead but I didn't understand she was dead. I sat on the bed next to her and looked around the room, family from all over had to come to give their condolences. I just looked around the room. Everyone was crying. I eventually left to go play with my cousins in the parking lot. Not a worry in the world. Until time went on and I suddenly started to realize that we weren't going to her house, I wasn't watching her 60s shows or the Spanish shows, Neither of us had any idea what was being said. I couldn't eat her favorite snacks. I couldn't smell the hair products she put in her hair everyday, that filled the smell of her room. I couldn't smell her. I was nobody’s baby anymore. No one loved me how she loved me, in my opinion. No one. I was all alone. It was always hard for me to make friends in school, she was my friend. And at home I lived in my older sister's shadow. My great grandma was my only friend, the only one who 'd ever say I was favorite. I started to read more than I had ever read before. I wanted to know more. I wanted to become wise.  I wanted the knowledge she had. Although her knowledge didn't come from reading it was all from experience. Books became my escape. I got to go live someone else’s  life. I was able to escape from reality.  I was still young at the time so I wasn't really reading more than fantasy books. Until the 6th grade when I read 'life as we knew it.' It's the journal of a young adult named Miranda and her experience with the world ending, from her point of view in her journal. It clicked a light bulb in my head. I started to journal every day. I was able to self reflect and really dig deep into my thoughts. Writing was my way of screaming to the world. It was my voice. I’d never let anyone read those journals though. I’ve always dreamed of publishing them one day and becoming a big time writer.  I wrote about my great grandma a lot of the time at first, I hated myself for never saying a proper goodbye to her. I still do. Maybe in another universe I was able too. But until then my writing is my only form of goodbye to my great grandmother/ only true best friend I’ve ever had. My first inspiration to become knowledgeable. The desire that made me crave understanding of the question many ask… Why?

# data[].attributes.body
During my sophomore year of highschool I had experienced mental health problems for the first time. My grandfather had recently passed away and I did not have a good relationship with my parents. I found myself feeling lost at times and very lonely. During this time I experienced new emotions like grieving. I had never lost someone close and dear to my heart before so the pain was like no other. I did not know how to communicate the way I felt nor did I enjoy talking to people at all. I switched to online school thinking that it would help but it didn’t. Instead I was surrounded by no one but myself and my thoughts. After months and months of holding everything in I finally started to open up to my best friend. I felt vulnerable at the fact that someone would know my weaknesses. I always told her that I was angry, I never told her I was sad, I never told her I felt helpless, and I never truly told her how I felt because I didn’t know how to describe it. She brought it to my attention that there were other emotions besides anger and that it was okay to be sad. So for the first time I was able to describe the way I felt emotionally. I started to find comfort in journaling and talking about my emotions through journaling. Through the years I have grown to be more emotionally intelligent and have been able to help the people around me who struggle to talk about their emotions.

# data[].attributes.body
Ag Expo, an annual public event held by the students of my vocational highschool. Hundreds of students volunteer their saturdays to assist different booths and clubs in showcasing agriculture education and getting direct public involvement of all ages. Being a junior, I was able to handle the animals, more specifically the reptiles. One of my favorite teachers, Mr. Cunningham handed me off his oldest blue tongued skink. After giving me a rundown on some of his specific details, he left me sitting on the desk waiting for the public to flood in. Kids and parents alike wandered into the classroom and wandered around the room. Parents hiding in the hallway from the snakes, kids staring at the skink patiently waiting for him to stick out his tongue, and I was in charge of spreading correct information about the animal, as well as proper handling. I stayed two hours past my scheduled time and did not realize until I clocked out.

# data[].attributes.body
I was sitting in math class one day, with three of my friends, we had started learning about functions. I was always the kid at the table who really struggled with math and was constantly asking questions, always feeling like a burden. On this particular day I was sitting using my calculator and one of my friends asked about exponents in relation to functions. I ended up telling her this trick I was taught and for once I actually felt like I had known what I was talking about. After that class I have been doing really good in math.

# data[].attributes.body
Since before I even started kindergarten my mom used to always read me books before bed. Eventually once I was in kindergarten she started taking me to the library and we would pick out those Step into Reading books to get me to start reading by myself. At some point decently early on in kindergarten, my class went to the library and we each picked out a book to check out and take home with us. I picked out “Ghosts!: Ghostly Tales from Folklore” by Alvin Schwartz. I remember taking it home and after school, I was sitting in a shopping cart reading it out loud to my mom all by myself. And she was so proud of me and this moment has just stuck with me even all these years later. S

# data[].attributes.body
In third grade, I took the English Language Arts test. Words got mixed up, and each question felt like a challenge. After the test, I got a lump in my throat when I saw the results online—one out of four. I felt embarrassed all over again. Reading had always been hard for me because I was slow. The next year, my reading comprehension teacher, Mrs. Becker, and I sat in a small classroom with a few other kids. As I tried to keep up, she led us through stories and carefully helped me figure out what the words meant. With Mrs. Becker's help, the stories slowly started to make sense, and I could feel myself word by word catching up. Each small win, even if it didn't happen right away, gave me more faith. Reading no longer seemed impossible.

# data[].attributes.body
When I was a junior in high school, we spent hours writing a long, detailed research essay about a topic of our choice. I chose commercial fishing as I have always enjoyed fishing. Reading about some of the bad and good parts of this allowed me to see the imagery that good literature can put into your head. As I researched and wrote the essay, I realized that I was also capable of writing something emotional enough to make the audience really consider what they were reading. I could make them see something that I was seeing through graphic, detailed descriptions meant to make the person reading more emotional about the topic at hand.

# data[].attributes.body
I walked in the room that I’d be taking the ACT test in. It was well lit, and I made sure to pack my school laptop. I was talking to the few friends that were placed into the same test room I was in. The chatter of the room eased everyone for the time but then came testing. I distinctly remember the math section asking me to complete formulas that I learned 2 years ago and have completely forgotten until now. Everything from Pythagriam’s Theorem to the quadradic formula came rushing back all at the same time, and I started answering with speed and precision. I got 32 out of 36, a very high and impressive score. That moment solidified something I always thought, I was numerically literate.

# data[].attributes.body
This happened about 5 years ago, it was during the summer, and I was visiting my family in Rochester, New York for my great Uncle Vinny and Aunt Tina’s 50th anniversary. This was a day where me and my family were hanging out in our great Uncle Phil and Aunt Lois’s pool. Me and my cousins were all in the pool and we were rough housing a little bit and I got shoved underwater for a while and I was trying to get above water to take in some air and once I got above the water I started choking and I kind of got a little bit angry at my cousin because they were sitting on top of me. Once my dad saw he got angry at me and told me to calm down even though I thought I was going to breath in a bunch of water. This event has taught me that even though I did almost start choking at the incident I learned to tell my cousin calmly and not flip out on them like I did before.

# data[].attributes.body
I sit in a cold 4th grade classroom, flipping through a book’s pages back and forth like it’s a flipbook, feeling the rough edge of the paper scratch against my fingertips. My teacher begins to read aloud. I sigh to myself, as a fast reader, I could always read ahead of the class, and assigned books never interested me. I stare at the pages, at first unwillingly, but as I read, I felt my fingers grip the pages tighter, every turn of the page more excited. Chapters passed by as I itched in my seat, feeling the goosebumps prickle on my cold skin. I feel smiles and frowns twist my face as I read, for the first time invested in a book’s story. I took the book home and nearly read the whole thing on my own. This book changed my perception of reading as I learned that reading can be fun, and to this day I love to read, reading hundreds of pages in one sitting and losing track of time.

# data[].attributes.body
I paid attention carefully to the words that were being articulated from my eleventh grade English teacher. “What do you think Nitsche meant when he said, “He who has a why can bear almost any how””. At first I was puzzled, I was trying to connect the dots. I was picked on, and I was instructed to give an example from the book Man’s Search for Meaning. I looked across at my friends hoping for help, they smirked at me. I recalled a pivotal moment when Frankl found the presence of his wife when looking up at the sky. He vividly describes how thinking of her gave him a “why” to live for while in a concentration camp. From that point, I began exploring my “why’s” in my life.

# data[].attributes.body
As I walk into the house, a feeling of cold and emptiness touches me. Maybe it’s the silence that’s usually filled with joyful laughter, but something feels off. The day is cold, with the downpour that Seattle has come to know so often. I climb the stairs, with my socks making wet footprints with every step. Mom is in the kitchen cleaning the dishes, but her back is turned to me. “Hey mom,” I say while setting my backpack down. She turns toward me, tears streaming from her eyes like floodgates have just opened. That’s when I begin to realize what had happened. (I didn’t really get to the literacy part yet)

# data[].attributes.body
I’m five years old, I’m sitting on a blue two-cushion couch in the upstairs family room of my first house. I’m in my fathers lap, wrapped up in his arms. In his hands he holds a printed out book, courtesy of my Kindergarten teacher mother, who knows exactly where to get all the best literature for her children. Tonight is the dreaded night- I have to read to my dad in Spanish. In order to make the whole experience more appealing, my dad promises to read the story to me first before it’s my turn to read to him. As he goes through the story, I listen to him intently. Finally, it’s my turn to read.

# data[].attributes.body
I have always struggled with reading literature. My third year of highschool, I can remember writing an essay in English class on a reflection of “The Death of Ivan Ilyich” by Leo Tolstoy. Although I was apprehensive of reading the novel, I spent the next two weeks in my room, enthralled by the story. While reading, my feelings of apprehension slowly blossomed into appreciation page by page. Ivan Illyich led a life of self centeredness, that ultimately led to him being forced to confront the meaning of his morality. By the end of the story, I was left with the feeling of a weight being lifted off my shoulders, and it occurred to me that literacy allows for readers to reflect on their own lives and experiences. The message from this book still sticks with me today, and gives me the motivation to live a life where I am true to myself.

# data[].attributes.body
An impactful literacy moment in my life was my final project for my senior year English class. It was the most ive ever had to write in my life. From what I recall, it was a ten page essay about life through out high school. I wrote it In may in Mrs. Olsen’s class. We were given a quarter to do it. I got to write about my senior football experience. Every week there was a part of it that was due. Some would be about vacation. It helped me become better writer and find words that I don’t usually use.

# data[].attributes.body
I was standing in front of my English class before performing my monologue. The sun was shining through a crack in the window. There was a silence in the class that made me super nervous. My teacher was staring at me with his computer open. As I looked around the room, and everyone's eyes were on me, I froze. I felt my face getting red with embarrassment. Eventually, the monologue came back to me. I stumbled my words at first, but then they just flowed out. At that moment, I began to forget there were other people in the room. I just heard my own voice. As the monologue winded down, silence filled the room. Then, I heard the applause throughout the room.

# data[].attributes.body
One night, my two brothers and I, still premature and young, were playing video games in our basement. All of us young and unthoughtful were fighting over who would get the chance to play next. "Dinner!" My mom said from the kitchen upstairs. All of us forgot about who would get to play next knowing that we had one thing in mind and one goal only. food. In a synchronized motion we all gave up on what we were doing and ran up the stairs, through the foyer, to the kitchen. there, my mother was dressed how she usually did after work, casual and comfortable attire. She grabbed some plates from the cupboard and began filling up our plates. Behind her we stood in a line waiting for our plates of delicious food to be handed to us. I was the last in line so I was able to see my brothers getting their food first. She turned around to hand my brother a plate of food. From there, I got a glance of what we were eating that night. What I had seen on the plate was both disappointing and dreadful for me. fish sticks. I hated fish sticks. The second I would stick one to my mouth a gagging sensation would come to me, my eyes would tear up, and my throat would close up. It was almost as if my body would reject what I was eating. My mom saw the disappointed look on my face and told me that I better finish my plate. I grabbed the plate and walked over to the dinner table with a pouty look. I sat down and set my elbow on the table with my face on my chin. I stared at the food before me with my appetite now gone. My mom fixed herself a plate and walked over to the table. She saw me distressed and told me to eat my food. "No. I hate fish sticks. I am not going to eat this." I said to her. "Be more grateful for what you have." she said. At that time I never really knew what she meant by that. "I don't care I hate fish sticks." I said. At that moment she went quiet. I still stared down at my food in disappointment. At the other side of the table where my mom was sitting, I saw a teardrop come down from her face. She sat there in silence and at that point I saw her face full of tears. "You guys should be more grateful for what you have, there are kids out there who are starving and would love to enjoy what you have right now." my mother said as she trembled her words in sadness. She then walked away to her room with her food still sitting on that kitchen table. I then realized how selfish I was and how grateful I should be that I get to live a life how I do, even if I don't get to play those video games all the time or if I'm given fish sticks for dinner. That night I finished all of the fish sticks on my plate and went to bed.

# data[].attributes.body
I remember the first time I discovered John Green books. In 2015, I was introduced to Green from seeing the movie Paper Towns in theaters. Three years later, being the snoopy younger sister I am, I grabbed a book from my sister's closet: The Fault In Our Stars. Recognizing the author, I decided to read the first chapter and quickly fell in love. The characters, the storyline, the romance had me captivated. This was the first time I actually found a book I wanted to read without being forced. I will always remember the time I fell in love with reading.

# data[].attributes.body
It was 8:00 at night and the time I dreaded most as an 11 year old. It was time to turn off the TV and read a book. Reading was never something I found entertaining and I never really understood the point of it. I would constantly find my mind wandering as I was trying to focus on the pages. This wasn’t because I hated reading however, it was just because I never found the right book. That changed tonight. My mom had a new book for me. I loved sports as a kid so when I found out it was about football I decided to give it a try. I was immediately immersed in this book. It was about a blind high school football player and the journey he went through to play. This book made me realize that I didn’t hate reading, I just had to find the right book.

# data[].attributes.body
Back in 7th grade I was given a simple essay assignment. I was to write a 5 paragraph essay on something that was considered legendary. This topic was boring so I put it off. It was due in two months anyway so I felt confident that one day I would complete it. Weeks went by and I had no work to show. That was until the day before, where I sat down, opened a word document, and stared at my screen. I sat there for ten minutes without writing, just staring blankly. I realized that I was not going to complete this assignment the way it was intended. Instead, I pulled up the instructions and, in a very meta way, wrote about me writing an assignment that was “legendary”. I even copied the instructions, changing the passive “the student must write it in this way” to an active voice and submitted what was essentially a rewritten version of the instructions. I got a perfect score. I learned from this that creativity can be a sign of literacy, and since this I continued to complete assignments for school in unique ways.

# data[].attributes.body
When I was 6 years old I remember driving home and seeing big crowds with signs in their hand saying “Black lives Matter”, “Stop Killing Black Men”. At the time I didn’t understand I remember my mom saying “It’s a shame that we still have to fear for our lives”. I asked my mom what she meant by it and there she explained “Lyanna you live in country that will try to take a great moment or chance from you because they don’t want to see black people do great”. I sat in my seat confused and hurt in the background while thinking all I could hear was people shouting with hear in their voice.

# data[].attributes.body
I remember learning about Constantine, his impact on the early Christian church and how much he helped it grow. I gained a love for history from my mom, I loved just listening to stories and trying to inhale all the facts. I had basketball practice the night I learned of Constantine, and it was a long drive so I decided to turn on a podcast so my dad and I could have some entertainment. It was about Constantine and his road to being emperor, I loved every part of it. Then, the story I had learned that day began in the podcast, so I paused it and talked to my dad from memory. I loved reiterating and sharing the facts that I had learned. After that day my love for history and historical literacy was apparent to me.

# data[].attributes.body
I remember walking into my IB English class with my friends thinking it was going to be a normal day listening to our teacher talk about nonsense for 95 minutes. We were wrong, the moment I stepped through the door he told us that we were doing a practice timed essay. All of a sudden I am 15 minutes into it and all I have written is my name. I sat there wondering what I was doing and how I was ever going to pass this test. I finished it and didn’t care how I did I just wanted it done. When we got our grades back I got a 1 out of 7 in 4 different criteria's. I sat there looking around at everyone getting 5,6, and 7’s in each category. It finally hit me that my lack of attention and motivation was holding me back. The next practice test I tried my best and got 4,5, and 6’s and it made me realize that my education was important.

# data[].attributes.body
I remember that warm September day, 2019. I was in the 7th grade I had just gotten home from school and raided my refrigerator for a crisp afternoon snack. After a moment of searching, I found an apple. I had just taken the last bite of it when my tooth struck a seed. I spat out the chunk of apple revealing the inner core littered with black teardrops. Seeing this sparked an idea, an idea that would begin my journey. I took one of the seeds and went to my backyard where I found a ceramic pot and some soil. I planted the seed and gave it some water and so it sparked life, and for me it grew a new chapter of my life. About a month later the seed erupted from the surface forming a sprout of about four leaves. Gardening was never something that I found interesting but from that day it has been something that I have loved. Today I have many plants I've grown from seeds like a pineapple plant, an avocado tree, and even some strawberries. There are many more plants that I have that are outside of the fruit bearing nature. But ever since that first seed from that apple gardening has been something I take pride in. Yes you may be thinking that these are just plants but, these plants have taught me the importance of responsibility and taking care of others just as I take care of my plants.

# data[].attributes.body
I was 13 when I started “The Poet X”. My favorite teacher recommended it, so I started to read despite my one hang-up: the novel was written in verse. I’d never seen this before, and it seemed as painful as dragging myself through Shakespeare. I decided to give it until the first chapter. I read, adjusting to line breaks and words spaced out on the page. My back strained from being bent over the book, my hands cramped from holding it open, I even felt where I sat in the same position for too long, because I was reading chapters without stopping. I realized I wasn’t putting this book down because the author had drawn me in with reality, and I was so happy to see a character that moved through the world the same way I was.

# data[].attributes.body
It's 12th grade and I walk into my first class of the year. My ethics teacher asks the simple question “what is good?” A couple of students timidly raise their hands and answer the question, and immediately my teacher shuts down all their understanding of such a basic concept. Shocked and now feeling a bit dense, I realized that all my knowledge had simply come from others’ ideas, and I couldn’t create an authentic and correct answer of my own within any subject. This was one of the moments where I realized there are levels to this, and that I was going to have to hit the books hard if I wanted to get serious about education.

# data[].attributes.body
It was an early, fall day. The sun shone down brightly, but if you had asked me in the moment, I would’ve told you it was dark and gloomy. The few months I had been in online school had flown; life never was quite the same. A large legal pad sat to my right with an endless list of reading, assignments, and quizzes to do, but at the very top, circled and highlighted time and time again, a math exam. I had never had an issue with school, but self-taught online school? My nightmare. I stared out the window, the trees just slightly swaying, and thought to myself, ‘Just start, stop procrastinating, so what if it goes poorly?’ These thoughts raced through my mind. Eventually, I clicked a few buttons and started. And stopped. And failed.

The feeling of defeat when I realized was like the emptiest pit in your stomach simultaneous with a piercing headache. I had realized I was going to have to learn to teach myself how to learn online. I had no information literacy skills when the information wasn’t shown to me. So, I taught myself how.

# data[].attributes.body
I used to struggle significantly while reading. It was summer going into second grade, and every time I picked up a book, the words always seemed to blur and shift, as if they were dancing around the page, making it harder for me to focus and understand. Reading for me, was like trying to navigate through the dense fog that would appear early mornings. This devastated me. Most of the kids in my incoming class were more than capable of understanding, but it just took me longer to grasp the meaning. Before school started, I begged my mom to take me to our local library. Once we went, I grabbed the first book that caught my eye. “Miss Daisy is Crazy” by Dan Gutman. It was a paperback book with a smooth texture and soft gloss. It gave a pleasant tactile feel as I read. As I began to read the book, I read every word out loud. After some time of consistently reading, the fog began to lift. Slowly, the words started to make sense. I could create a visual image of what was happening in the story. Reading suddenly didn’t feel like I was navigating fog.

# data[].attributes.body
I had just walked into my elementary school library, like I did every Thursday with my fourth grade class, when I spotted my favorite librarian sorting books with a sweet smile on her face. She motioned for me to come over and when I finally reached her she handed me a paperback and said, “I know your birthday is tomorrow, and I wanted to get you something special.” I looked down at the book before giving her the biggest hug I could muster. I knew she got a book for every student’s birthday, but I didn't care, it felt so special to me. The first thing I did when I got home was start that book, and when I finished, I told her all about it. And she listened and nodded with that same sweet smile she always had on her face.

# data[].attributes.body
When I was in high school, I liked working out and doing intense exercises because I felt really good after and feeling you body relax and recover. This is mostly because I played football and through this, I believe I've become more literate on how to workout and what exercises work what parts of your body. I was captain and during the offseason, another captain and I would create the workouts for the team and this would be lifting workouts. We had days where we worked out specific body parts and the team would work out hard and we benefitted from them I would say.

# data[].attributes.body
“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit-“

“What’s a hobbit?”

“I’m not sure, Q,” replied the man, determined to not let his Jersey temper take over this soon into the novel. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

On a quiet street in a quiet house, on an obnoxiously pink pattered bedspread sat a small, curious child of no more than seven, who, in vain, was attempting to grasp every word that left her father’s rigid mouth. To the still burgeoning mind, his rapid-fire word reflected sheer garbled nonsense. Regardless, the curious child sat, listening intently.

Strange and unfamiliar symbols swirled on the pages of the book Father held, forming strings of ebbing black specks. “Words,” I deduced. I knew these were words. But what were words? I thought words were things heard, not seen. Could they be both?

# data[].attributes.body
I sit in my fourth-grade class book in my hand called Esperanza rising a girl floating on the front cover in a yellow dress. The nice dim lighting after turning off some lights, In the background I faintly hear my teacher reading aloud, she always goes too slow for me, so I read ahead. I get more intrigued as I read on, seeing the words on the page and feeling so grateful for where I am. I continue to feel sadness for this girl for having to go through such hardships at a young age, while being in a completely new country. I start thinking of my parents and if that is how they felt when they immigrated to the U.S at first as well. The Harsh lights suddenly turn back on and it’s time to go.

# data[].attributes.body
My whole life I kind of felt like I never really ever connected with reading the way others did. I felt left behind and forced to read. I still remember the day I read my favorite book. A romance novel. I finished the entire book in less than 24 hours. Once I started this train, I fell in love with the author and began to purchase more books continuing in that series. I felt more connected to English and literacy overall after this because I felt like even though I may have been a little bit behind the others I still caught up in my own way.

# data[].attributes.body
When I was in second grade, I was handed my first few books to read. These were not normal books, they were all paper short story “books” that had pictures on half of the page. I really enjoyed these books because they were simple and very easy to comprehend. In third grade, we took a reading test and I tested below average. This made me very upset with myself. I couldn't even imagine how I could possibly imagine how that happened. I talked to my mom and they got me a tutor. I really hated it the first few times I went, but I really started noticing improvements in my reading and comprehension skills. My tutor Patsy walked me through slowing down on my reading and taking notes on my reading. This was a game changer for me, I had never taken notes before in my whole life. We had our reading test every quarter, and by the end of the second quarter, I had made my way up to being a grade level reader. I know this doesn't seem like a big accomplishment but it was for me.

# data[].attributes.body
In the heart of the rundown village, the school stood, walls made of brick and rough  benches made of wood. The bells rang as children arrived, their uniforms raggedy, faces smiling wide and bright with anticipation. I watched them gather into the classroom, putting their bags into their cubbies. The school teacher, with an empathetic smile, writes words on a chalkboard in broken chalk, the only luxury in their bare, small classroom. Regard;ess of the lack of resources, laughter and excitement filled the air. As we entered the room, laughter and commotion erupted from the students. Students, with sparkles in their eyes, running into our arms asking for pictures and to be picked up and warmly embraced. Though it wasn’t the nicest place in the world, the children didn’t mind, they were some of the happiest kids I’ve ever witnessed. Learning was a beacon of hope for getting out of their impoverished town, and an unimaginable opportunity of a lifetime for them.

# data[].attributes.body
I heard the clock in my house slowly ticking. Every second is another moment I spend wasting instead of working on my final English assignment. I have a lingering thought in the back of my mind telling me to get up and finish it but I don’t listen. I just sat on my bed mindlessly scrolling through TikTok and Instagram. After what I thought was a short time of doing this I finally dragged myself out of bed to do my assignment. I checked my clock and saw that it was 11:20PM and the assignment was due at 12:00PM. Adrenaline shot through my body as I threw my laptop open to make a word document for the assignment. I rushed through what should have been hours of planning and researching just to get a sliver of a paper turned in on time. I desperately turned in my sorry excuse for a paper at 11:59PM. I was dreading the moment I got my grade back on it. When I finally did get my grade it was not good at all. I learned at that moment that I would never do that again and I would actually space out my work in a more efficient and less stress inducing manner.

# data[].attributes.body
On September 18th 2022 I was walking to my car in the junior parking lot at my high school. I had 5 people with me all coming to my car because I was going to take us to the McDonalds that was down the street and then we were going to go back to one of my friends' houses. As we get into the car and I start to back out I'm completely distracted talking to all my friends when my whole car shakes. I backed into a girl from my school while she was trying to leave the parking lot. I remember freaking out because I thought I was gonna  get grounded. When I pulled forward I heard my rear bumper scrape and fall off. I was freaking out along with my friends but not because I messed up my car. I was worried about how much it was gonna change the car insurance even though i don't pay it. It ended up nearly doubling our car insurance for my whole family. I had felt so terrible because I didn't have  a way to help my family [pay for it and my mom was gonna have to pay for it all. This was a big deal for me because my family has never been super financially stable. My mom was so disappointed but I never got grounded. This moment helped me grow. After this day I had a different outlook on the outcome and consequences of my actions and had to start thinking beyond just how they could affect myself.

# data[].attributes.body
Adapting my methods to overcome fear, dislocating and breaking my elbow.  Confidence is something that is incredibly difficult to but extremely easy to destroy.  In my case it was breaking my elbow, flying through the air, having trust in nothing but myself, trust that my hands and feet would carry me, and then they didn’t.  In one second you can move from the most confident and energized you’ve ever been to the deepest fear and pain.  Once the immediate pain leaves you’re still left feeling like less, less capable, less worthy, less of a person.  From this I was forced to grow, sometimes a painful reset is required to change.

I was too scared to tumble but i eventually overcame it

# data[].attributes.body
I have never really liked reading books, they have never really grabbed my attention or made me want to learn. However, this changed when I found a book series called Warriors, by Erin Hunter. The book was funny enough about wild cats in a forest that lived in clans. It wasn’t exactly that part that got me so interested, but the way the words made it so you could really picture what was happening in the book. The words really made me pay way more attention to detail and really made me want to learn what was going on. This ultimately led to me being able to read any book way better as it made me understand what reading was about.

-Noah Rauch

messed up the naming thing

# data[].attributes.body
I’d been laying in bed for hours tossing and turning, trapped in my own thoughts yet again. I couldn’t talk to anyone about how I was feeling because I couldn’t find the words, so my brain just sounded like a broken record. I decided to turn on some music, I figured it’s better than the sound of my deafening thoughts. It was that night that I heard the lyrics as a story, one that resonated with my own experiences at the time, putting my feelings into the words that I couldn’t find myself. I started making more sense of the lyrics and analyzing the intent behind them. Music wasn’t just something nice to have in the background anymore, it was about the human connection and emotions it portrayed. This realization connected me to music on a deeper level and taught me empathy and understanding, showing me that I was less alone than I thought in my emotions and experiences. It became my escape and guide to understanding of the world.

# data[].attributes.body
The sun streamed through the classroom window as I opened the worn pages of " Greys Anatomy" the scent of new paper filled with air, mingling with the faint of sound of the laughter from the playground outside. As I read about the anatomy of the body and how it works, I felt as I was standing next to the author writing it with him, experiencing the warmth of the summer days and the weight of injustice. This not only felt comforting but reading felt like nothing I've ever felt before, it felt more then reading a book, it changed my ways of looking at the body and how it works which was amazing.

# data[].attributes.body
A big pivotal point for me was when my teacher gave me a terrible grade on a poem I thought was amazing that I created and she even enjoyed it. But because i didn't read the instructions very carefully on like 2 of the littlest things that did even matter, i got like a C-. this impacted me by showing myself i am a decent writer when its something i actually understand what to wright about and something i can also relate to.

# data[].attributes.body
I was walking down the steps of Coronado knowing this was the last time I would be comforted by my family for months. As I embraced my mother and my father I tried to stay strong. Suddenly, I could feel my dads tear on my shoulder, the first tear I've ever seen my dad cry. Instantly, I could physically feel my heart drop into my stomach and tears pool in my eyes. My face had been overcome with a tingly feeling as I began to understand the severity of these last moments. Seeing my biggest role model show vulnerability in that way enabled me to let my emotions go and challenged my emotional literacy.

# data[].attributes.body
I was sitting in my computer science class on the first day of school in my junior year of high school. The classroom hummed with the quiet fans of the computers. I sat in the back listening to the teacher; Mrs. Turner, explain the expectations of the class. Then she said, “Today, you’ll write your first line of code”. She then made everyone log into the program where we would be doing our coding. I got to the homepage of the website and the first assignment is already open and unlocked. It was titled “Hello World.” Mrs. Turner then stops us from going any further and explains to us that we are going to make the computer say, “Hello World.” Mrs. Turner lets everyone start. I hear the clacking of everyone else's keyboards clacking, then I start. I typed ‘print ("Hello, world!")’. The program ran without error and a screen popped up that said, “Hello World”. The task was simple and easy, but it gave me a sense of accomplishment and allowed me to start my digital journey.

# data[].attributes.body
I stood curious. It was supposed to be working and the indicator light should have been lit. “I’ll never get around this”, I sighed. The problem was that the computer-kit didn’t come with its own operating software and since I was a kid, I was having trouble with setting it up correctly. Well I download the software again, but this time I enabled the option for me to remotely login into the computer without every attaching a display. And I booted it again, crossing my fingers. “Maybe, I’ll get it this time?” And then I saw the green light come up and the software booted up. I had never felt that satisfaction and happiness before. And that small light made me confident enough to getting started on being digitally literate.

And I stood again, curious.

# data[].attributes.body
It’s 3rd grade and I’m being pulled out of class to go read to someone. I walked into a cold office with a dimmed light that only had a circular table, a book shelf, and two chairs. On the table there was a colored folder that contained multiple short stories that were inside some clear protective covers. I took a seat in a cold and very uncomfortable chair, and once I sat down my reading instructor pulled out a familiar reading for me to read that day. After she explained the instructions to me she began a timer and I got anxious because I really wanted to beat my time from last session but I also didn’t want it to throw me off once it began to make a beeping noise, signaling that I had no more time to read. I nervously began reading and slowly started to forget about the timer. I began to connect deeply with the story I was reading and noticed I wasn’t stumbling over my words or constantly stopping for help with pronunciation. I finished my reading and felt very accomplished because I had been able to complete my reading on my own without getting help and even noticed that there was still time left on the timer. My instructor congratulated me and I felt a sense of relief and peace in knowing that my literacy journey was taking a turn. I was so looking forward to finally being able to stay and learn with the other kids in my class.

# data[].attributes.headline
In 4th grade, I was assigned a personal narrative for the first time. Obviously, it was more simple than writing one today would be. But at the time, it was difficult. I wrote my paper, turned it in, not expecting much of it. But, I received an A. When I met with my teacher, she told me I had potential as a writer. I did not understand that at the time, I was young, but I remember showing my mom overjoyed.  I still carry this with me in college, and I feel happy to write a personal narrative.

# data[].attributes.subject
In 4th grade, I was assigned a personal narrative for the first time. Obviously, it was more simple than writing one today would be. But at the time, it was difficult. I wrote my paper, turned it in, not expecting much of it. But, I received an A. When I met with my teacher, she told me I had potential as a writer. I did not understand that at the time, I was young, but I remember showing my mom overjoyed.  I still carry this with me in college, and I feel happy to write a personal narrative.

# data[].attributes.body
Silence throughout the world as it will be for the next 6 months. I was stuck in a dark room not leaving my bed to eat. Without being in contact with friends my life seemed bare. Looking at social media all day every day had destroyed my self-esteem and I quickly fell into depression. My parents would beg me to hang out with them but I couldn’t move. I was a shell of my old self I felt empty inside. I knew something was wrong so I started to research depression. Learning the signs of depression gave me a sense of relief knowing what was wrong made me want to learn more and get the help I needed.

# data[].attributes.body
1:00 o'clock was the time I had to leave class every day. Some would say I was lucky being able to, but they did not know the truth. Kids imagine the most innocent and most exaggerated thing ever. So, when I would leave, many kids thought I was going to a candy world with cotton candy clouds and being able to eat as much candy I wanted, oh how far from the truth were they.  I always thought the classroom was a dungeon with dark lights and no windows, I thought of myself as a captured princess and my teacher, who always called to have me come back, was my savior. Don't get me wrong, I will always be grateful for the extra help; it was just the outside voices that made me feel bad about it. I now just block the voices out and focus on my road.

# data[].attributes.body
At the time I was in high school, I just got done with 3rd period and was moving through the halls to go into my next class, history. Once class started my teacher, Mr.brannick, would start his lecture and would say “class, we're going to do some research about China's past wars”. He then would give us options to look at, ones that we will do our own research on. I didn't care at first, but I then stumbled across a war called The Opium War. I was fascinated by this war and I found myself reading as much information as I could get my hands on. When I was finished reading I quickly got out of my chair, making a loud screeching sound to insinuate my enthusiasm, and I went to the back of the classroom to my teacher and would ask him questions about this war. I would say "why was the United States so adamant in helping China"? Mr.Brannick would look at me and say “that's something that you should continue to think about on your own”. After reading about this I was very fixated on the past and I wanted to review more about how our past generations lived. This would lead to me wanting to write things in a historical manner.

# data[].attributes.body
“How come I still do not understand this.” I looked blankly at my math homework after another long day of class. I finally grew the courage to ask my engineering father to help me with my impossible homework at the dinner table. We got to work shortly after, and he would not let me leave until he was confident I understood exactly how to solve every problem on that paper. Well beyond my bedtime, tears grew in my eyes, the more math I looked at. That is when I finally began to get a hold of what I was working on. I grew an admiration for math, and as I got closer, the more I realized I wanted to be just like my father, an engineer.

# data[].attributes.body
It was a very cold and delightful morning on Christmas Day of 2020. With the cold crisp air outside, my mother had decided she wanted to get started with prepping for our annual Christmas dinner. The aroma of turkey, yams, stuffing, vegetables, and yeast rolls filled the house. Family started arriving and my sister informed everyone that she had an announcement to make. Suspense filled the air and it was silent as can be. My sister announced that she was pregnant and that she would be soon expecting a baby boy! Joy, hugs, and congratulations were passed around the room! This Christmas will forever be a special one to remember because that was my first nephew and my mothers first grandchild!

# data[].attributes.body
I sit in the grand piano room of my childhood home, listening to nothing but the keys being brushed by my mother’s delicate hands. I think to myself how badly I wish I could play as she did. As time goes on and I grow older, my mother begins to teach me more and more how she became the player she is. I sit on the cold bench, my mother’s comforting warmth next to mine. I feel the smooth keys underneath my fingertips as my mother helps me to play a melodious tune. I never knew that one day I would become just as good of a piano player as my mother.

# data[].attributes.body
The day has come, my senior year, I started working hard on each word pouring frustration, doubt and hope into each word. Sitting on my desk the next day while seven pages felt like they were torn apart by corrections. I sat at my desk feeling stressed and frustrated with the sensation of stone in my back with no other thought than ,” I can’t do this no more”. Balancing with work, school, and sports was enough for me, now rewriting this essay all over again felt impossible. With no other choice I had to rewrite it as graduation was in a few weeks which felt fast as a blink of an eye. My teacher supported me by echoing in,” Don’t give up, you can do better”. My family supported me throughout this journey as they reassured me with a quiet place to start off my biggest frustration at that time, my writing assignment. Slowly, I poured emotion into the words. Draft after draft, the essay transformed. When I finally submitted the essay, I realized I wasn’t just passing an assignment I was proving to myself what I could overcome.

# data[].attributes.body
"Am I going to do well since I'm not in IEP?" In fifth grade, when I was put into IEP, I had an IEP meeting. My teacher was just telling my parents how I was doing and if they made a goal for me to accomplish. I was waiting for them to tell me what my new goal was but they told me the news  that I wasn't expecting to hear. They told me that I've reached my goal and I was going to be leaving IEP classes and be put in regular classes. I was shocked and proud because I didn't expect to make it so far and I've accomplished my goal. My parents were proud of me as well. So then my teachers wrote down my last IEP document and my parents and myself signed the paper. My teachers told me what class I will be placed in and I’ll be going to the class tomorrow. So the next day, I entered my new class, my teacher introduced me to the class, and my new teacher started the new lesson. While she was speaking, my mind came to me saying, “Am I going to do well since I'm not in IEP anymore?" I brushed it off my mind and focused in class. While I was focusing in class, it didn't seem too stressful or overwhelming than what my mind was telling me. I understand what is going on, I told myself in confidence that I am going to do well since I’m not in IEP.

# data[].attributes.body
I entered the American high school system as a junior, feeling like an invader in foreign land. During one of the many discussions on history class - the lecture was about Mexican American studied-, our teacher invited us to share our experiences about a movie we watched and since I related so much, I shared mine. I spoke about my journey, my language barriers and all I went through just to be at that class on that specific day.  After class I approached to my teacher eying the bookshelf across the room.

“May I borrow a book?” I asked with my slightly broken English, putting all my effort to not show an accent.

He looked at me surprised and said “You are the first to ask that in a long time” he said with a look in his face that I couldn’t figure out just yet. He was as intrigued as I was.

The book I chose was Mexican American Literature. As I read, I felt my mind expand, a whole new world was just discovered, for the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere, and I truly saw myself as a bilingual person, and I understood it was okay. Inspired for my discovery and with my professor’s assistance, I started writing about my experiences, which I never thought would take me this far. This moment transformed my literacy experience, encouraging to pursue self-discovery. I found my passion; I found my voice.

# data[].attributes.body
At five years old, I was an incredible reader. Though I was so young, I remember kindergarten reading time and I got so bored I stopped reading, and just started coloring. No matter what I did during reading, I never had trouble understanding a book. This “ego” I had acquired with reading followed all the way til my junior year of high school. That ego of mine was shot down fairly quick when I had to start reading literature. I found it so bland, and the way grammar was set up in literature made the Shakespeare books quite unenjoyable for me. That was my first time ever getting a grade besides an A in English class. Moral of the story is to not get too confident, or else you’ll get humbled when faced with adversity like high school literature.

# data[].attributes.body
It was a hot summer afternoon in the Arizona heat. I had much time for myself and sat down on the leather couch to scroll away my thoughts. As I scrolled my day away, I ran into a video on finances, specifically for the younger generations. The video was made by “The Money Guy Show” and as I pressed start, I expected a sales pitch of their drop shipping course promising me generational wealth. I was mistaken, there was no course to sell, only information to share. Taught basics like living below your means and time makes you wealthy. Maybe wealth isn’t just for the few.

# data[].attributes.body
Another day, another week, another month of reading logs. In middle school we were required to read 5 books over summer, every summer. I never particularly liked reading. I was always the slowest reader in my class and it made me feel so defeated. When I would sit down to read all I could hear was the clock ticking, the air conditioning turning on, and the chitter chatter of other noises in the background. One summer I decided to take a previous suggestion from one of my teachers and read A Wrinkle in Time. The detailing, fast pace, and uncertainty of this book made me fall in love with it instantly. Reading my book and getting to the next chapter became all that I cared about. I had a newfound joy from flipping the pages knowing that word by word I was overcoming my oldest fear. I finally felt how I imagined the rest of the kids in my class felt while reading, Instead of dreading picking up my book or feeling embarrassed I felt excited and empowered. I was eager to learn and read more about the characters and what they were going to do next.

# data[].attributes.body
I followed the line as one by one, classmates filed into the school library. Walking into this colorful place crowded with shelves of books, it was a new sight for my young eyes. And as the woody smell of bookshelves and pages filled my nose, I could feel the anticipation rising inside me. A woman wearing a bright, floral dress greeted us when we came in. We all sat on a carpet spotted with big circles of different colors. I watched the woman’s hands holding the picture book that looked similar to the ones my brother helped me read. Finally, she opened the book and I paid close attention to her voice emphasizing each word, her flingers carefully flipping through each page. I still remember the funky illustrations and the small printed words as the woman read with an intriguing rhythmic tone.

# data[].attributes.body
Strong Emotions ran through me as I sat in class listening to the audiobook of Laurie Halse Anderson’s book “Speak”.  At the time as a Middle school student, I knew that there was going to be a transition from cartoon characters to reading more mature books but the reality of it still managed to shock me. “I have entered high school with the wrong hair, the wrong clothes, and the wrong attitude. And I don't have anyone to sit with. I am Outcast” said the narrator of the audiobook. The heavy feeling of anxiety runs through me. Am I ready for this?

# data[].attributes.body
It was yet another normal day in Tucson with the sky blue as ever and the very white fluffy clouds that were overhead, some moving slowly while others had a gust of wind propelling them. I was in my high school orchestra classroom… well it was more of an auditorium rather than just a classroom. The chairs on the stage faced away from the audience as we began to rehearse once more. The sound of my instrument vibrating away as in harmony with all the other violins, violas, cellos and basses. At that my moment, my instructor stopped us and said “ this is going to sound great tomorrow night.”

# data[].attributes.body
On a random Friday evening, many summers ago, my father asked me to come to a show his band was doing not too far from our house. Overjoyed, I quickly agreed and got ready as fast as I could. We arrived at a boat club and were instantly welcomed by the rest of the band. I remember feeling so connected to everyone around me because of the music. The live polka music brought people together in a way I never experienced before. The dance floor was occupied for hours and the room was filled with laughter. The feeling this music gave the many people that were there, as well as myself, was overpowering and unforgettable. I never had such a moving experience with music until this day.

# data[].attributes.body
I always thought I was the smartest in my class. And everyone else seemed to think so too. I wasn’t a bragger, but I knew I was well above everyone in skill level when it came to learning. From gifted student programs, to different and more advanced assignments, I was always the one they expected the most from. That’s why I was asked to partner with her; a girl who had trouble in the same things I excelled at. 9 year old me didn’t understand why I had to help someone out when I was doing just fine on my own, if anything she’d have been wasting my potential by stealing it. I should’ve just helped her but I let her down. The disappointment on my teacher’s face when I abandoned that girl was upsetting and I now see that same disappointment when I look at how drastically my grades changed in high school.

# data[].attributes.body
It was a regular hot sunny Arizona day everyday I would wake up with the same motive I hope we get to play basketball in the morning during recess and after school that's all I ever looked to do during school until I had gotten into some trouble that took all those privileges I was placed into a week of no recess which during present day seemed like a prison sentence little did I know this would be a important week that would shape my love for reading. as me and the other kids sat in the high celling echoey library viewing all the kids laugh and have fun playing basketball a teacher had tasked us to pick out a book and write a short summary on the chapter we had read as I walk up in down the tall bookshelf's messing around attempting to waste time I stumbled upon a I survived Series Nazi Invasion book I pick it up as a joke show to my friends to make jokes time was up to pick a book I was stuck with it. we begin to read and I fall involve with the book and the I survived series of books and fall inlove with historical fiction.

# data[].attributes.body
The day had come and I could feel my second grade heartbeat pounding through my chest. I had been working on this story for the past couple weeks and every page was filled with my signature handwriting and carefully colored in pictures. This was the first time I had ever written my own story and it was about to be read aloud to a class of 28 other staring students. Just yesterday I was proud of my story, but I found myself beginning to question everything I had written, in fear of judgment. “Kylie you are up!” I heard my teacher announce. I had found a new love for writing after this assignment, I knew I could not let my anxiety win.

# data[].attributes.body
Within the light of the library, I picked up an old, leather-bound book. It smelled like musty paper, and I felt the rough texture of the cover under my fingers. As I carefully flipped through the pages, they crackled softly. Then I found a passage that made my heart race. I read the words out loud, barely whispering, “So this is what it means.” Everything else seemed to disappear, the shuffling of students and the hum of the large fan. All that mattered was those words on the page, and for that moment, they felt like they were meant just for me.

# data[].attributes.body
An impactful literacy moment in my life was when I became financially literate. As I began my first job at Frys, I would save most of my checks as I was not paying anything at the time. Then as time went on, I started having expenses such as food, gas, and subscriptions. I then got into a bad habit of spending without saving. I would always end up at a certain number in my bank account for a good while. I then told myself it was time for change. I began to save a majority of my check and live below my means. As I got financially comfortable, I started looking into how I can invest for my future while keeping enough to pay my current expenses. I now am making the most of my money by keeping my savings in a high yield savings account and investing the rest in a low-risk index fund. In conclusion, I believe I still have much to learn about my financial journey, but I think I have become literate.

# data[].attributes.body
When I began getting paid by my job I began spending my money like crazy on unnecessary things. I didn’t know how to save nor did I want to. An unexpected family emergency happened, my baby sister was rushed to the hospital due to seizures and my single mother was struggling financially. I felt useless having a job and not being able to help my mom out with the hospital bills.I felt ashamed because all those pairs of shoes and new clothes weren’t going to save my sister's life. All I could think about was how much I regretted spending all that money that was now truly  needed. At that moment I knew I had to change my habits to be more reliable for emergencies like this. That’s when I took financial literacy into consideration, and when I realized how important it is.

# data[].attributes.body
As I was on the freeway on my way home from a fun night out with my friends my phone starts to buzz with ring notifications. Whose in my house I thought to myself... As I got onto my phone I see ambulances on the footage scared out of my mind as I'm going 80 miles per hour on the freeway not knowing what happened. As I get closer to home I find my dad being the person in need. My brother mason and my mom were in shock and not telling me what happened. My brother had hit my dad with a car and he wasn't fatally injured but injured enough for medical support. Now that we can laugh about it its okay to talk about it but the pure fear that set on my face in those 10 minutes is something i'll never forget.

# data[].attributes.body
The crisp scent of aged paper wafted in my face as I stepped into my middle school library after classes ended. The librarian greeted me with a smile. “Finished that series already?” she said with amusement as I walked up to the return counter with the last book of the series I had just started that week in hand. “Yep!” I replied, “Do you have any similar book recommendations?” After processing my return, she stepped out from behind the counter and guided me over to the fiction section, pointing out a handful of books with similar plots and themes that surely helped foster my current interest in literature.

# data[].attributes.body
a impactful literacy moment was when I started to read the lyrics of songs and actually connect to the words. I was able to understand the meaning of the songs and feel the tone in what they sang. I think this really impacted me because now I always read the lyrics if I like a song, I feel more connected to the artist too.

# data[].attributes.body
I remember standing in my grandparent's living room looking at the TV. My sister was sitting in front of it watching a show. I don't remember the sounds but I remember thinking about what the TV had on, how I was finally registering the information that I was given. It was like gaining consciousness for the first time in my life. Grandma was in the kitchen cooking and while I was standing there examining the images on the TV, I had a thought. "Wow, this is dumb." Finally it was like opening up into a new world. Being able to think critically and understand why Dora was saying "Hola! Soy Dora!" was like stepping into a new world.

# data[].attributes.body
Younger me would never understand. What healthy really was and how it may benefit an individual. Towards the beginning of middle school I struggled with school. My brain seemed to be foggy. I was always checking out during class and never seemed to have an appetite. Now, considering at the time I never understood why I was like this it became clearer to me as I got older. My peers were surpassing me in everything I never had my thing. Kids were passing classes I failed with ease, seemed to be more social and have a lot of friends. Could this be because I did not belong? I often asked myself these sad kinds of questions. I wanted this to change, I wanted a better life. I began listening to podcasts with men that seemed to have it all. Characters like Joe Rogan and David Goggins. Although some may not know who they are or might think they take things over the top. I can attest to the fact they might not be for everybody. For me they were everything. Granted, these are just two examples that come to my mind. I could list countless people similar to these two. Similar in the traits that I believe every young person should aspire to live like these men do. What traits you may ask? Traits that I had been lacking, traits that not could but would solve all the questions I was asking myself.