My desire to read and write began soon after I realized that I was dependent on others to read for me. My mother read to me, as early as I have memories: I cannot remember a time she did not read to me, before my shift to independent reading. I learned early that if you do not to want to rely on others for your joy, happiness, and sustenance, you need to find a way to do it yourself. Yes—as a toddler this awareness became clear, albeit a basic level.

There were always books in our house. Whether it was the collection of my Little Golden Books, my mother’s old high school literature and textbooks, or Bible stories collection for children. My mother would read to me as much as she could when she could. Soon it was not enough. I wanted to read all the books, all the time. My mother was not a stay-at-home mom, at all. She worked long days. I am sure I became annoying to her: she would humor me as she was doing household chores or coming in from work. She never told me no—not really. Her strategy or trick? My mother began to “buy time”, by telling me to circle the words I did not know, as I read to myself. She was already aware that I had been slowly following along with her, as she read. I had learned to read a few words listening to her read, as I looked at the words. Following the plan: as I read, I would circle the words that I did not know; then, I would run back to her. My mother would sound each word circled, out for me. Soon, the intervals of running back to her for clarification decreased, over time. Then it ceased. Suffice to say, I became an early reader.

Most educators will tell you that early reading leads to or is commensurate with early writing or indicates the capacity. This was evident in my case, as my first experience with writing was supported by my mother. My mother also had a collection of her high school writing texts: grammar books and a book on penmanship. Yes, again. I began to copy the words from the penmanship lessons. I became good. Then, I began copying my mother and older cousin, as she wrote my name, and other words. I began writing everything! I owe my love of literacy and learning to my mother.

The art and craft of writing opened many doors for me academically, socially, and professionally. My early relationship with my mother and literature, carved a special pathway in live for me. Each award, scholarship, job, honor, and invitation (professional) I have received, is aligned with the craft and knowledgebase of the writing.

This is my “why”—why I share the gift of the art and craft of writing. I appreciate and respect the power and value of words written, and of words spoken. As an educator of over 30 years, I have witnessed the shift in young students and in adults as they acquire literacy skills. It not only opens doors of knowledge and learning, but it also opens the door to opportunity. I have also witnessed the creative side of writing, on journaling and in storytelling. Individuals learn to take a journey within themselves (reflective writing) and others (argumentative writing, speeches, presentations), or outside of themselves, through fictional tales.

Writing has allowed me to share the journey to my “why”, with you. As you read and contextualize my journey with writing, you are unconsciously reflecting on your own journey with writing. That is the power of words and of writing: it allows you to meet people and take journeys, otherwise inaccessible.