For the final step before solidifying my Literacy Narrative essay, I was required to set up an appointment with the writing center offered as a resource at UC Davis. On the writing center website, I logged in to set up an appointment by December 3rd, 2024. I decided on the 31st of October to go over the essay for grammatical errors and any uncertain areas. In just 30 minutes, the reviewer and I had gone over the essay and made changes to the document to which I fixed after. She read from the beginning to end, making comments and suggestions, to which she also asked for my input.
Following the appointment, the suggestions were then made and I did a scan over the essay to check for any more changes necessary. Looking at the completed essay, I feel proud of the work I had done and all the progress that led to the finished product.
Writing the essay, I was able to look back through my memories, good and bad, while also asking my family about what they've noticed about my behavior. I was surpised to recall distant memories of my experiences back in primary school, especially the experiences I shared in the essay. It was, of course, not an easy topic to write about but, it felt like closure being able to discuss it out loud as I never had before. I am glad to have had the opportunity to share my experiences with the class.
Jessica Griffin
Professor Castellon
UWP 001
18 October 2024
“Cat"
There was a strong wave of pride and accomplishment after simply writing the three-letter word “Cat” after so many failed attempts. At the time, I did not know writing three letters on my brown desk, alone, in a small, white room in a two-story house at the young age of five would be a major milestone in my life. Many native-English students write their first words and move on, but I hold onto that memory close to my heart. As a native-Japanese speaker, writing my first English word “cat” set the foundation for literacy and standard for adapting to change.
Born and raised by a Japanese family, in Japan, surrounded by only Japanese culture, it was only natural for me to quickly learn Japanese. On top of that, my father constantly being shipped away on deployments in the Navy took away the only English exposure I would have throughout my childhood. By the time I moved to the States, I spoke fluently in Japanese but not a lick of English.
Enrolled in a predominantly English-speaking school with no fellow Japanese speakers, I did not fit in. Feeling intimidated, I wondrously followed my classmates through the cafeteria where a line was formed to get lunch. Mimicking what the child in front of me was doing, I walked up to the register empty-handed in hopes the worker would assist me. Instead, I felt brushed off as they felt no need and continued to serve the American child behind me. I proceeded to follow the child in front to the tables where I sat alongside my classmates, watching them enjoy their delicious apple slices, chocolate milk, and a healthy main dish prepared by the school, while I had nothing but the black and white surface of the table to indulge. My classmates even felt levels of sorrow for me as they offered pieces of their prepped lunch. Day by day, I sat next to my peers as they consumed their meals, wishing I could too.
In class, while my classmates easily understood the assignments as simple as matching colors, the language barrier made the “simple” work seem impossible. Looking over their shoulders and copying their work was the only way to fit in. I had no help from my teacher, Ms. K, who gave me troubling memories of my first year in an American school.
Ms. K utilized a system called the “color-coded behavior chart.” Everyone would start at the green color-coded rectangle and throughout the day students may be told to raise or drop their name tag to the appropriate color (blue, green, yellow, orange, red) to reflect the student’s behavior. “Jessica!” Called by Ms. K, unsure of why, I proceeded to stand up. Time slowed down, walking over my classmates sitting on the color-coded carpet, feeling everyone’s eyes on me, painting the picture that I was a misbehaving Japanese foreigner. Words splurged out her mouth as I cluelessly stood in front of my peers wishing time would just move faster. Finally, she demanded I lower my name, so I proceeded to do so. Upon reaching my seat, I looked over to the chart and noticed that I was the only student lower than the green, mirroring my foreigner stance in the class. I couldn’t help but feel my shame and burden deepening inside. At the “bright” age of five when I should be enjoying my time at school, I walked into class knowing I would be bullied by my teacher. The only time she would smile was while assisting my English-speaking peers but, the moment she needed to help me, her smile immediately dropped. My continuous inability to speak English felt like a burden not only to me but to others as well.
I would arrive home each day, to what I thought would be a break from learning, but turned into yet another “English lecture” from my mom, who too, was also perfecting her English. Crying from frustration, more lessons from my mother on top of the failed attempts at school didn’t help with my progress. It would be expected that after an entire school year, at such a young age, I would have progressed in my new language. However, it was quite the opposite, I was held back a grade.
Fortunately, in the following year, I had the opportunity to learn from a new teacher. Although I cannot recall her name, I remember her appearance. She looked around fifty to sixty years old with grey and white locks that didn't pass her shoulders. Her voice was gentle, sweet, and easygoing, unlike my last teacher. In comparison to the previous year, I don’t have any memories of mistreatment and felt aligned with my classmates, never feeling inferior. In just under a year, the progress I made was exponential; I was smiling and speaking English.
Not even reaching the end of the year, I caught up with my peers in the English language and literacy to the point where it wasn’t obvious I had struggled before. A video of myself reading and presenting something I wrote in English was shown to me years after it was recorded. The young girl standing in front of countless parents, talking to the room in a language that seemed impossible for her to learn goes to show how much she learned and caught up in a short period of time.
I wrote my first word “Cat” around that time. After school, I walked up the stairs, to my study room at the end of the hall. Inside, I had a brown desk located on the far left side of the wall that served as a work desk for my parents or my sister and me. Sitting at my desk, with a piece of printer paper and a pencil laid out in front of me, determined, I formed my fingers around my pencil. While in search of a word, I spotted my chunky, orange, striped tabby cat. I began to write.“Ket,” that is not right. “Kat,” that could be it. The pronunciation of “Cat” re-occurred in my head but writing was like solving a puzzle. I looked back at the letters learned during class and formed a moon-like curve that sounded similar to“K.” Tracing the curve of the “C,” I finally wrote “Cat.”
Looking down at my paper, I carefully examined the words I wrote on my white printer paper on my brown desk. I examined each letter, “C,” followed by, “A,” and connected it with, ”T.” Sounding out each letter, it proved to be correct. After struggling with learning English since the previous year, this was a major accomplishment, I had just written my first English word. A native English speaker might not understand the sense of accomplishment nor be able to recall a similar situation. But, a native Japanese speaker, born in Japan, who moved to a foreign country, forced to learn the language alongside peers who would most likely have heard English since birth, would relate.
Even after fifteen years, I can recall my first words so vividly. Many children can recall memories of receiving a toy they’ve wanted or Christmas traditions since they are such impactful memories in their life but, mine is writing my first word. Since then, that moment has contributed to my proficiency in English literacies, bringing me to my current standing, at the University of California: Davis. Even after so many years of speaking, reading, and writing in English, I still struggle with confidence in my Literacy classes but, I look back at my younger self and think about how far I’ve come. And to think, it was all because I learned to write the word “Cat.”