Process of Writing

Creating An Outline 👍

Outline copied from My Original Document 😁

Literacy Narrative Outline 

Main Idea 

• Transitioning from the Japanese to American language and culture was difficult to endure as such as young child

  • Was born and enjoyed my young years in Japan 

  • Raised by my Japanese mother and Obachan “Baba”

  • Moved to the United States for the first time and went to an american school 

  • Had no choice but to learn english and focus on it entirely

Introduction 

Hook

• Do you remember writing your first word? (then build off of that) 

Background

•  I was born and raised in Japan until the age of ~5 then moved to the states. Only spoke japanese at the time and didn't understand a lick of english 

Thesis

• As a military child whose first language was Japanese, adapting to change was a skill that was challenged from a young age. 

Body

Situation

• Started school without understanding english 

• I would often sit by myself during lunch and copy off my classmate’s work because I didn't understand what was going on

• I didn't even get lunch from the cafeteria because I didn't know how to nor what was occuring

• My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Kennedy, I remember hating her even though I didn’t understand the language. I remember lowering my name tag on the behavior from green to red which upset me constantly. 

Rising Action

• Everyday after school, I would study English with my mom while crying because it was so difficult and I didnt want to do it. However, I went to school everyday with a smile on my face because I enjoyed it. 

Climax

• After being held back a grade (Kindergarten), I was assigned to a new teacher who took her time teaching me. 

Conclusion

• By the end of the year, I was at the same level as the rest of my classmates

• Even when I feel behind than peers, I think about how far I’ve come 

After we finished writing our first few drafts, we were required to learn how to properly peer review a text which then led to our own peer review sessions during class. We exchanged our papers with other classmates who gave respectful criticism which we then exchanged our own thoughts on their piece.

I was also required to get my final draft reviewed by a student at the Writing Center which I booked an appointment on October 31st. During that time, she read through my writing and we discussed any areas we felt that needed improvement or clarification. For the most part, she believed that the essay was well written with just a few grammatical errors and two areas that needed to be elaborated on. 

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 set the 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 indulged (use dif word) in 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. Kennedy, who gave me troubling memories of my first year in an American school. Ms. Kennedy 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. Kennedy, 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. 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 I. 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, 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, who moved to a foreign country, forced to learn the language alongside peers who would most likely have heard English since birth, would relate. It is easier for a younger child to learn a language quickly but for my American classmates, they would often have native speakers helping them. My mother was still perfecting the language (should elaborate here a little). 

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. (Sentence about how maybe in times of doubt you think of the little girl that was able to overcome). And to think, it was all because I learned to write the word “Cat.”