As the child of two immigrants, I grew up in a bilingual household. My native language was Bengali and my second language was English. Growing up, my parents tried speaking both at home, but I had a difficult time learning English. During elementary school, I became poised in battle with reading; reading became my daily, haunting nightmare. I struggled so greatly with reading that I was eventually placed in a English Second Language (ESL) class. I was determined to pass the ESL exam and move on, but to my dismay, I stayed in ESL for the next six years. I became increasingly frustrated at my inability to understand what I was reading. As I flipped through pages and observed the bold words, I tried my best to break up sentences and create little images in my head. I did not find reading enjoyable at all..
I wanted to become a better reader and pass the ESL exam, so that I could fit in with my peers. But year after year, I drowned in my own sorrow of failing and staying in ESL. Not only did I begin to feel isolated from many of my peers, but also from my family--especially my sister, who was two years older than me. Though my sister was initially placed in ESL, she passed the exam and moved on within her first year of being in that class. She was a great writer and reader; by second grade, she was reading at the highest level in her class. She was doing so well that I began to I ask myself, why couldn’t I? I didn’t understand why I was so different from her; we came from the same mom and dad, so why did I have such a hard time in comparison to her? As I tried to contemplate the reason, I became emotionally torn. I began to assume that maybe it was because I was dumb or abnormal. I didn’t know what the reason was, but at that point, all I could do was assume that something was wrong with me. In elementary school, the standard in reading went from A to Z. I remember in the third grade, all of my friends were reading at level O or P, but I was stuck at level L. I had been stuck at level L since second grade. Every time the teacher asked me to read, I grunted and curled up in my seat. By the time I entered fourth grade, I was still stuck on level L. During in class exams, I was given overtime. As I repeated the written words and tried to understand the context, I became more and more embarrassed. Reading became my personal sickness. I tried my best to improve by asking my teachers for help when I needed it the most, but it just didn’t seem to work.
Realizing that reading was more than a struggle for me, I tried furiously reading books. Not a single one interested me, until I came across the one that changed my outlook on reading forever. When I opened The Bridge to Terabithia, by Katherine Paterson, it was as if I was truly reading for the first time. As I flipped through the pages and read word after word, I was mesmerized. The emotional connection I felt with the characters was unbelievable. I didn’t want to leave my spot. I needed to finish the book.
The main characters in the book, Jessie Oliver and Leslie Burke, were two best friends who had an inspiring friendship. Leslie was the new, fearless girl in school, who Jessie found rather daunting and awe-inspiring. Jessie and Leslie soon became neighbors and began spending their afternoons after school together. Unlike Leslie, Jessie was afraid of many things, including swinging across the creek near their homes. Fortunately, Leslie’s determined attitude helps Jesse overcome his fear; one afternoon, he is finally able to swing across the creek.
Like with Jessie, Leslie taught me that life is about taking risks and trying your best to have fun. She became a mentor to me; a driving force who showed me that sometimes in life, you have to close your eyes, keep your mind open, and persevere to get to the other side. Like Jesse who was finally able to swing across the creek, I was finally able to find the fun in reading. I no longer feared being stuck at a low reading level, but rather welcomed the challenge of moving to a higher one. With this newfound confidence and the help of my teachers, I was able to see my hard work pay off. At the end of the fourth grade, my teacher announced my reading level, “Alyah you’re at level P.” I looked at her with teary eyes, had I really improved that much? I was so overjoyed that at the end of that school day, I ran home and leapt into my mom’s arms. I had finally improved. As I left the fourth grade and went on the fifth and then the sixth, my reading level progressed. In the sixth grade, I finally passed the ESL exam. From that day on I was no longer in the ESL class, but the experience that came with ESL would stay with me forever. ESL taught me not only to value reading, but also to value myself as an individual. I may not be as quick as my peers or sister, but I can accomplish the same things as them on my own pace. Having my own pace and being different are the qualities that make me unique. I am my own person and am I proud of who I am. Despite once being an ESL student, today I take an Advanced Placement (AP) English Course. I have come so far, and I welcome the challenges that will come before me as I continue with high school and eventually make my way to college.