I could see the jungle gyms glistening in the sunlight through the classroom window. In a few moments, I would have been able to dash out and meet my friend by the one that resembled a partial sphere to play. This was not the case. “You have to stay in for recess to finish your story!”, snapped my detestable teacher, as I was about to leave. Not wanting to get in trouble, I sat down without a word and continued to write. Earlier in the week an assignment was given to write a story including woods, a barn, and a bumblebee. As I began to compose the story, the bees became personified and acted as the main characters. The idea was that the bees had to travel through the woods in order to attend a party being held in a barn. Over the …show more content…
It seemed like an hour had passed by the time she got around to me, even though it was only four or five minutes at most.
The paper hit the desk. I looked at the top.
My ego was shattered.
Enclosed in a red sloppy circle was the number two.
I scowled. “How in the world did I get a two?” I thought to myself. I turned my head, and peered at the paper belonging to the kid sitting next to me. He had written no more than a quarter of a page, and received a three. This deepened my anger. I managed to hold back tears until I got home.
I entered my house, and ran to my room slamming the door behind me. Through my watery eyes, I read through my story and found no comments. I tore the papers in half, crumpled them, and threw them in the trash.
I never found out why I received a two.
Before this incident I found writing quite enjoyable. I often wrote out scripts that my friends and I would act out, or write short stories about made up events.
After this incident I found writing quite unpleasant. I often tried to avoid writing fiction or personal material in school, and rarely wrote outside of school.
Throughout the years I began to write more as it became pleasant for me to write out ideas. However, I guarded all of my writing as if it were top secret government files so no one would read them. Almost everything was written on whiteboards and organized, then erased after the work was memorized if wanted or forgotten if it was not very
I have more fears than confidence when it comes to writing, for me writing is very nerve racking because of all the multitasking my brain has to do. Therefor, I do not write a lot, the only time I would write is if a teacher assigns an essay about a topic we have been working on. I have never really written for my enjoyment mostly it is just for academic reasons in all honesty.
When I was a small child, I didn't like writing unless I was writing something I wanted to. As a result, most of my school work was done half-heartedly, because they were all research projects that we had to do. I didn't have any issues with my writing, and my handwriting was pretty good at my age. My favorite books were the Harry Potter series. I thought I was pretty cool to be able to read such a long book, so I bragged some to my friends. The only topic I liked to write about was fantasy. In second grade, my mom made me start writing every day in a wide ruled journal, so I wrote a story about the Legend of Zelda, a video game I liked. I wrote about it every day for a long time, maybe a year, until I kinda gave up, and wrote the last page
Writing has affected my life for the better, but our relationship is still rocky. I never realized how much of an impact writing would have on my life, until I began my career in law enforcement. Prior to my career in law enforcement, I was a student-athlete. I always viewed writing as a chore, something that I had to do, and that always frustrated me. It frustrated me, because, I did not think I was good at it. I then discovered personal writing. I began writing letters, telling stories, the whole nine yards; I learned to allow personal writing to be an outlet, and that helped me to become an overall better writer. After I became familiar with personal writing, writing started to grow on me. I found myself doing more and more writing, and I was enjoying it. When I enjoy writing, it makes the whole process seem easier.
At the age of five, I learned of my struggle concerning the topic of writing. In kindergarten, this wasn't too much of a problem (because of the lack of writing-based assignments). Once I got into first grade, where the level of difficulty increased, I learned that I was not a good writer. When I say I wasn't a good writer, I do not only mean my writing quality, I also mean the physical act of writing. To get over this, I was required to practice writing at home, along with being given extra/specialized homework. With all of this help, I learned to be better at handling my writing
Writing for me began as a kindergartener. My teacher made me write my name over and over again until I could write it without making any mistakes. In elementary school all my teachers taught me to put words I had learned together to form sentences. I was eventually taught to avoid fragments, and
I have always loved to write, and it became even more evident when I entered elementary school. I quickly befriended a girl named Beth, who lived just down the road from me. One afternoon that I remember in particular was in the middle of the summer. She and I were set to write a book. We had read countless storybooks on our own, and we could not see why we could not write one too. We sat down with a notebook and two pencils, and we were set to go.
I’ve always enjoyed making up stories or little scenarios in my mind , but I’ve never really shared them with anybody. This year I had an open class period and decided to take 10 minutes of courage and sign up or it. I had no idea that Mr. Buhrman, the previous English teacher, would make us share our writings. When he told us we would share the next piece that we wrote in a group, I was beyond nervous because I had never shared my writing with anyone. I spent a lot of time writing it and rewriting it to make sure
Up to this point, the majority of my writing has been for school, and for informal uses among my peers. When I was younger, there was nowhere near the amount of typing and talking to friends as there is now. I believe that as
The earliest memory of my writing is in 4th grade we had to do the weekend news every Monday and it was due at the end of the day. I first would write down bullet points of what I did, for example, if I celebrated a birthday with someone or hanged out with my friends then we had to write it by hand on notebook paper and it had to be at least a page long. I was always the quickest because of what I did.
Writing used to be something I really enjoyed doing in my free time (regardless of it being a paper or a story). This all changed during my freshmen year in high school. My english teacher ruined it all. First let’s note that as a writer, my papers usually averaged in the A range. Of course I did write some really bad papers as well, but overall they were A’s. One afternoon after school I sat down to write a paper on the story Of Mice and Men which if you’ve read, you would know it makes points about ageism, sexism, and racism. Within the paper I was writing that afternoon I clearly stated these points and honest to god, it was a really good paper. I was proud of myself and couldn’t wait to turn it in. After turning the paper in, my teacher pulls me aside and claims I plagiarized the paper. I was rather dumbfounded and all I could muster was “What..?”. She proceeds to say we didn’t go over this in class whilst reading the book (which we did) and proceeds to mark the paper as a 70 and leaves it at that. I stood there thinking to myself, does she want me to stop trying in her class? That’s precisely what I did. After that I just gave up on writing quality material as she didn’t think I
Since it affected me; as a result, I stopped from writing, but later I realized something, and I started questioning myself about the reason that I have begun this journey; it was my love for writing.
I was asked to write an experiential Autobiographical sketch. Not only that, but also that said sketch was an automatic A. I am the kind of person that deeply desires to hand in a paper that says “I am a rebel.” When given this sort of requirement. However I’m not in high school anymore and my parents are paying an ungodly amount of money for me to be here. I figured not being the teachers worst nightmare would only be expected. When I say the teachers worst nightmare I mean that one student that comes along who makes jokes and distracts the class. Not just that though, that child is only a nuisance unless he is really good at it, to the point where even the teacher gets distracted. Well I was, or am still, that kid.
Writing has always been something I dread. It’s weird because I love talking and telling stories, but the moment I have to write it all down on paper, I become frantic. It’s almost as if a horse race just begun in my mind, with hundreds of horses, or words, running through my mind, unable to place them in chronological order. Because I struggle to form satisfying sentence structure, it takes me hours, sometimes even days, to write one paper. It’s not that I think I’m a “bad writer,” I just get discouraged easily. Needless to say, I don’t think highly of my writing skills. When I was little I loved to both read and write. I read just about any book I could get my hands on, and my journal was my go to for my daily adventures. Although it’s