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Personal Reflection/Anecdote

Illiterate Anomaly: Journey of a Different

Kind of Teacher

By Naomi Molina de Wood

While channel surfing one day, I heard a famous pediatric neurosurgeon talk about the importance of
reading for school-age children. The history of my non-reading life flashed before my eyes. My story began
as a young girl who experienced the educational cliché of being “lost between the cracks.” I graduated
from high school not being able to read. In a world that touts “no child left behind,” I was the child
who was left behind. In my most formative years for reading, I did not receive the support or academic
foundation that could have altered my future. My journey to becoming literate was difficult, but it molded
me into an educator who realizes the importance of considering the emotional as well as the academic
needs of students.

Through the School Years
My primary years were fraught with teachers who were more interested in training a class to be
well-behaved than in nurturing individual young minds. During my train wreck of an education, second
grade ranks high on the list of failed academic experiences. I had an older teacher who was infamous for
being abusive toward children. I was terrified of her because she gave a myriad of students “pops” every
day. In her mind, they were warranted. As in any good revolt, the word spread clandestinely among the
class to wear newspaper underneath our underwear so the “pops” would not hurt so much. Heavily padded
underwear was our class’s definition of great courage, defiance,
and revenge.
Eventually, the day came when she gave “pops” to the quiet girl
afraid of her shadow… me. I had committed an unpardonable sin.
I had not done my homework. Homework was an enigma to me.
I knew beyond a doubt I was not qualified to achieve remarkable
things like completing homework; therefore, I must have deserved
this righteous punishment. However, when my father, a mild-
mannered man, became aware of what had happened to me, he
stormed down to the school and demanded an explanation and
an immediate halt to all “pops” for all students. Surprisingly, the
abuse stopped for most of the children except a little boy who
came to school every day in dirty clothes and smelling of neglect.
Sadly, the teacher vented all her frustration on this innocent child,
counting on his parents never noticing or caring about the daily discipline. The rest of the year I was
invisible to her. I did not learn to read, nor did I learn the beginnings of how to read. I am sure I did not
even know my alphabet. Did this teacher exact her vengeance by becoming passive-aggressive toward
me? I will never really know, but she certainly impacted my life negatively.
My educational journey did not improve as I wound my way through grade school. My Grade 4
teacher skipped over me during reading circles instead of addressing my reading needs. From teachers’
comments, I learned they incorrectly assumed Spanish was my first language and therefore the reason
for my lack of reading ability and comprehension. I began to lie when asked about reading assignments.
Then the guilt of lying to my vacation Bible teacher about reading chapters in the Bible plagued me to
where I became more introverted and non-verbal.
Another memorable memory involved stinging words from my drop-dead gorgeous, beloved math

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