Read First

In order for the narrative to make any sense, you must read it in the organization listed below:

1. Intro
2. Preliminary
3. Enlightenment
4. Aftermath

Aftermath

Ever since I've learned how to use a dictionary, my interest with words has only increased. My vocabulary has grown exponentially and almost indefinitely, well not really but it feels like it. Every time I see a new word, it comes to mind that I must look that word up! It's second nature for me to do just that since it bothers me immensely to fail in understanding something. I always strive for knowledge because I believe that there's only one way to learn something, and that's to want to know it. There was no forcing me to selling myself to understand these words but myself, and that will remain true for as many new words that come towards me.

Enlightenment

Discovering the dictionary was equivalent, at least for me, to Neil Armstrong landing on the moon, Thomas Edison discovering a light bulb that wouldn't burn out in two seconds, or finding out that your brother's Leukemia is curable. The limits were now broken, and I suddenly knew that I'd be able to once again, re-master reading. I was excited like an electron when stimulated by electricity! So I snatched the dictionary from my brother as if I had stole something from him. He takes it as a sign of a big brother moment done well then goes outside to play Yu-Gi-Oh, a card game based off an awesome T.V. show, with friends. After opening it up for a moment, I desperately try to look for the words I didn't know from the first edition of the Hardy Boys book that my brother gave me to read. I am once again in a deadlock because the brother who left, Jonathan, either didn't think or forgot to tell me how to use a dictionary. My mother was still busy with her cooking, but I decide to ask her how to use a dictionary anyway. Before I even ask her, she exclaims for me to leave one more time, to which I don't hesitate. Stressed and frustrated, I stomp to the dinner table. Keep in mind that I'm only six at this point. As I have my hand on my cheek and my eyes focused on the dictionary in desperation for how to read the thing, my dad arrives from work and notices that I wasn't being myself and that I was looking confused. He sees that I was struggling with knowing how to interpret the dictionary, so he asks me if I know how to use the dictionary while already knowing the answer. I tell him, "no", and he quickly asks me, "do you want to know how?". The frustration didn't allow me to think of even asking my dad for help as soon as he was home. Being the charismatic man that he is, he has shown me a life full amount of things that are useful in any situation. From learning how to tie my shoes, to tying a tie, and learning how to use a fork, to basic table manners. So easy enough, he first tells me that the words were in alphabetical order. Happy that I knew what that big word meant was the first step in knowing that I'd soon be able to learn more. He then tells me that the words are arranged so that the word on the top and bottom of the page indicated that I can find my desired word in between that top and bottom word on the corner, which were the first and last words that could be found on that page. Being the fast learner that I was, It was safe for me to say that I learned how to use a dictionary within an hour or two. With the spark of excitement revived in me once more, I look up all kinds of words for about three hours, especially those within the Hardy Boys.

Preliminary

What started my interest in words, to begin with, was my yearn to know every possible word that came across me. I began to proficiently read at the age of 5, and I may have actually known to have began reading at an earlier age, but that's because I don't remember the struggle of learning letters since I picked it up like I did with books so quickly. Every week I was required to read a book for kindergarten; although, it felt like they were too easy, and naturally, I began to read books surpassing my level of education.  It had urged me to progress onto the more complex words and increasing difficulties that were yet to come because I felt that I needed to fill the void of sequestering myself in doubt that reading was too easy. I remember that my brother used to ready the hardy boys, an old mystery series of two brothers that went on questionably precarious lengths to solve a mystery much like in Scooby-Doo. He is 6 years older than me, so he was in the sixth grade at the time, and here I was just begging him to tell me what it's about because it kind of discouraged me to attempt to read. The reason for that was because it appeared lengthy to read, but with an ample amount of motivation from him, I decide to read it. Sooner or later I came across a word I did not understand, and to put it simply, it frustrated the hell out of me! Word after word, came with more frustration and denial that I had mastered reading. It opened a new perspective of what there was out to there for me to learn, and the problem was that I didn't know how. Shortly after reading, I put the book down in distress then proceeded directly to my brother to ask him what some words meant, and not even he understood what they meant. The next step was to ask my mother who had been too busy with cooking, and tells me to look in the dictionary. I had no idea what she just told me, but she seemed aggravated enough to not ask. Luckily, my brother knew what it was, and in just under 30 seconds, I see that he had brought out a novel-sized, brown paged, bright red book. It read, Merriam-Websters, along with some other scripture that said, 10,000 Words. Puzzled, I angrily tell him "That's just another book!", while he simply continues to just open it up in search for Waldo as it seemed. Once he found what he was looking for, he turns the book over to me, and recites the word and definition of "dictionary". I look at him in amazement, while repeating only the words I knew and understood to him, "a book that gives other words' meaning". I had him repeat it just to make sure of what he said.

Intro

I had always been interested in words themselves as a young child mainly because I was so facinated by the fact that there was a plethora of words to choose from to describe something. That something could be how: I felt, to paint a picture with words, or to use them in certain scenarios to try to sound smarter. Half the time I would, and still use them without knowing what they mean, and to my own philosophy, I think that if I use them more then I'd remember them! I was also always such a stickler for grammar, which has created my dismal sense of heartbrokenness whenever I see misspelled words, comma splices, and incorrectly used punctuation marks, and it's much worse when I do that myself. What bothered me, yet encouraged me the most, was that I was placed in an ELD program in second grade because of the color of my skin and last name. The English Learning Development program was meant to better my English, but in reality it was just a bunch of extra work that my six year old brother could handle. It consisted of basic sentence structure development that felt redundant because it wasn't like I was born in Mexico, or some other foreign country because I wasn't! I was born in Los Angeles, CA where English was my first language. As a matter of fact I'm not even fluent in Spanish despite my ethnicity, and both of my Spanish speaking parents and older brother. During class, at monthly intervals, a woman whose name I forgot would appear with a call slip to my name, and a folder filled with activities fit for a kindergartner. She had somewhat of an accent which only made it that much more difficult for my virgin ears to handle as I had never really been exposed to such accents before. I felt a sense of minority because I thought that it was forced upon me to use this in order to excel.  I don't know why I thought that, but as far as I knew, I saw that it was only me and another friend of mine who had to take the program. This persisted all the way until the second semester of the sixth grade, and that would've stayed the same if I hadn't maintained the 3.8 grade average.