Language and literacy aren’t just about reading and writing—they’re about courage, identity, and connection. I didn’t realize that until one day in middle school when I was unexpectedly pushed out of my comfort zone.
When I think about my relationship with language and literacy, one memory stands out clearly. It was back in middle school when my teacher asked the class to write a short paragraph about a personal experience. At first, I didn’t think much of it—I usually saw assignments like that as just another piece of schoolwork. I was a quiet student, someone who didn’t talk much, and I had always been shy when it came to speaking in front of others. So when the teacher suddenly called on me to read my paragraph aloud to the whole class, I felt panic rising in my chest. I remember walking up to the front of the classroom with the paper shaking in my sweaty hands. The room was full of chatter just moments before, but when my name was called, I could feel dozens of eyes turn toward me. Some kids were still whispering to each other, others just stared, waiting. I tried to take a deep breath, but my thoughts were racing. “Don’t stutter. Does this sound right? This is taking a little long, isn’t it?” I began reading slowly, carefully, trying not to trip over my words. To me, my voice sounded shaky and strange—I’ve never liked the sound of my own voice—but to everyone else, I probably just sounded like me. I didn’t notice much of their reactions, because I was too focused on getting through the paper without messing up. When I finally finished, there was a short pause, then clapping. The teacher smiled and told me my piece was “Powerful.” That one word stuck with me. For the first time, I felt a sense of accomplishment in sharing my writing. I walked back to my seat feeling proud, as I had pushed past a barrier that had always held me back.

That moment taught me something important: sometimes you only grow when you are forced out of your comfort zone. Until then, writing had always felt like “just work.” But after that experience, I realized my words could mean something to other people. It gave me a small boost of confidence, not just in writing but in speaking too. Over time, I became more open to sharing my personal experiences, despite still being shy by nature. It was the first step toward finding my voice.

Of course, that wasn’t the only challenge I’ve faced with language and literacy. In high school, for example, I remember struggling to make sense of a Shakespeare play (Othello) we had to read as a class novel. The language felt like a puzzle, with words and expressions that didn’t make sense to me at first. It was pretty frustrating not being able to understand what was happening in the text and then being asked questions about it. As we kept reading this play, I eventually gained a better understanding of the text and how to read through the unfamiliar language, which I could look back on a reflect on how I improved with language. This goes to show how language isn’t about instantly understanding what is in front of me; it’s about learning to accept it through patience and hard work.

Looking back, the middle school experience of standing in front of the class and reading my writing will always be the moment that set everything in motion. It showed me that my words had power, even when I doubted myself. Since then, every challenge with language—from Shakespeare to speaking with my parents, from friends’ languages to professional emails—has been another step in shaping who I am. Language and literacy aren’t just tools for communication; they define identity, build confidence, and help us connect across differences. And while I’m still growing, I know that each time I push myself past fear, my voice gets a little stronger.

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