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
A 4 year old half saint bernard half scottish shepherd dog named Buck is living a lavish life under the care of Judge Miller and his servants in Santa Clara Valley, CA. The favorite of Judge Miller, Buck is a token to be cared for. Unfortunately though, around this time gold was found in the vast north, which require large dogs like Buck to haul sleds around in the cold snowy weather.
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
However, I do not believe my writing process has changed very much. I still plot essays out with the intent of every paragraph
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.
My earliest experience with writing was my learning period that formed not only my style of writing but how I studied and the ability to apply words and concepts into a structured format. The process at first was difficult because it was my first time being exposed to structured writing which caused me to put it off until the last minute or lose interest in the topic I was writing about. The rowdy classroom was eager to release near the end of the day, but we knew we had to face one of the more uninteresting subjects of the day: middle school English.The teacher thoroughly explained our assignment which made each one of us cringe. The class finally initiated work mode and I was clueless. I would start to make progress but would be constantly
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 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.
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
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
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.
imaginable. My abject hatred for writing blossomed in the early grades and carried over into high
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
My journey to the apparel world began during my time in elementary school. I knew I always wanted to do something in the creative industry, because the idea of creating something always amazed me. What particularly geared my interest to apparel design was the lack of modest clothing available in stores. I always spent plenty of time searching for not just a pretty looking garment, but also a well-covered one. I always thought to myself that there are plenty of designers out there who do great work in their specialized areas, but what’s something different that I could contribute. I slowly realized how this passion that I have turned into something that I could bring some change in the fashion industry. I didn’t want to choose between my culture/religion
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
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