I was about 4-5 years old when I had my first literacy experience. My mother wanted me to be prepared for kindergarten so she wrote down a hundred sight words she wanted me to know and be able to write before the end of my first semester in school. At that age, I was so fascinated with words so whenever I was supposed to practice the new set of words she gave me, I didn’t hesitate to sit down and learn. What made this experience more memorable, was that while I was learning these new words, I was teaching my grandmother them as well. She was born in Ghana and only spoke Nzema, her native language. She wasn’t given the chance to learn English, so she only knew basic words like “Hi” and “Bye”. While I was teaching her the new English words I learned, she taught me Nzema. It was the perfect exchange. Every day after school, I would go straight to my room, bring my board of words and my journal downstairs to my grandmother and begin our daily lesson. There wasn’t a day where I didn’t look forward to spending time with my By the end of the year, not only could I read and write at a second-grade level, I could also read and write in Nzema.