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Unformatted text preview: Laurel Underwood Professor Herb ENG 109 9 September 2013 My Journey Through Writing Those long, hard, jealous glares that students give other students who do well can be seen in any classroom. There is always students who do well and students who struggle. I was lucky and did well in school, I was used to receiving those glares. There was only one exception, writing. In writing classes I was used to giving those glares. My struggles with language has made a big impact on my life and left many lasting memories, starting even from elementary school. I can hear myself breathing hard from the anxiety that feels like it is choking me. I am standing in line praying silently, don’t let me be the first one, don’t let me be the first one. Classmate after classmate steps up to the podium and recites the letters of the word given to them. Everyone seems calm, some even bored. No one knows how I have spent hours at home staring at a jumble of letters until they start to look alien. There is only one person in front of me left. I can feel my hands start to shake and sweat, my stomach clench, and I feel like I could pass out any second now. Now there is only space in between myself and that dreaded stand. The teacher smiles at me encouragingly, knowing I struggle with this. “Window”, she states, “spell window”. Window, I think a simple word. I have seen this word many times, I can spell this. “WINOW” I say with shaky confidence. The teacher shakes her head gently, her dark brown curls barely moving. I got it wrong and go to sit back in my seat. Wishing I could disappear, I try not to be upset. Click, click, click. I am staring at the clock as the seconds tick by. Only one more class after this and then I am home free. Thank God I have Coach next. His history class always goes fast and before class I can tell him my latest Laverick story. Laverick, my English teacher is always good for a crazy story. I have him the period before Coach so the stories are always fresh in my mind. He preaches his ideals for a perfect world more than he teaches students anything about how to write a paper but I think I finally figured out what he wants in his essays. His voice breaks me from my selfconversation in my head. It seems like I will be testing my latest thought out now as he is passing back our essays. I see the students who normally do well smile and give each other thumbs up or high fives. He only has a couple papers left so I know one of those has to be mine. He starts to walk towards my row and I just want my paper at this point. He starts to hand it to me and I get a rush of excitement, this one might finally be an “A”. As I set the paper down on my desk I can hear myself groan. Not another “C”. I feel like I have tried everything! I spend hours writing and rewriting and then have everyone I know read it for me to edit. Well, there is only a couple months left of school and then I can have another teacher to fail their essays. I can see Mrs.Heinschel sitting in the desk where she grades presentations. She has tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Laurel, so much for sharing that with us”, my teacher says from the back of the classroom. As I walk back to my seat I can feel the eyes of my classmates staring at me. After class, many students come up to me and tell me that my essay was beautiful and that if really affected them. I had written about my best friend. The summer before she had to deal with a guy who she worked with sexually harassing her. I worked with her and helped her through every moment of agony. I knew the essays we were writing would be shared with the class and I wanted to share this experience. I spent hours on this essay, writing until my eyes hurt from staring at the laptop screen glare compared to the darkness of the house at night. I wanted this paper to be perfect, every emotion and detail I wanted shared. I didn’t know how many people this kind of situation has happened to, but I wanted to let them know they were not alone. I ended up getting an “A” on the essay but that is not why it’s the paper I am the most proud of. My writing affected people, it sent a message. Finally, I realised I could write and I could enjoy the outcome of it too. I have always worked hard to do well on my papers or to improve my skills with the English language. I have had a long road of struggles but every now and then I manage to write something beautiful. Since my last good essay I have written many horrible pieces of composition. I also know I will write many other horrible essays, papers, or stories before I write another good piece of composition. Most importantly though, I do know that another good paper will come. No one can write perfectly all the time but if you work hard and always give your all, perfection will come. ...
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- Fall '14
- Professor Herb ENG, free. Thank God, latest Laverick story., laptop screen glare, jealous glares