It Was One Rainy Day In Southern California. I Was On My

Prose starts off with very strong language in her essay “I know Why the Caged Bird Cannot Read”. Prose’s opening paragraph includes words such as “appalled”, “dismal”, and “dreariness”, which establishes negative connotation, a central feature of the essay(Prose 176). These words signify the lack of confidence that Prose has in the trends of American education. By beginning her essay with judgemental and cogent language, Francine Prose develops a clear and concise argument. She intends to hook her readers by immediately stressing the importance of the subject and conveying her justifiably strong perspectives. Prose claims that she is “ appalled by the dismal lists of texts that her sons are doomed to waste a school year reading” (Prose 176). Prose’s use of negative connotation allows her to clearly and effectively convey her message regarding the negative influence that American education has had on literature.

The inevitable had happened; I, as a small child, was demanded to read. A little antisocial human being launched into a world of, at first, difficult words and lengthy phrases. While words and literacy were forced into my mind, I had reluctantly begun the adventure to enjoy and accept the art of literature. Later however, my hopes and dreams were crushed to pieces by a gruesome teacher with an interesting form of a so called “grading policy.”

Every english class includes dreaded assigned reading, and students get used to the treacherous act of mandatory reading and analysis. However, there eventually comes a novel that pushes the limits of commitment and causes students to question why they took the advanced placement course, such as William Faulkner’s Intruder in the Dust. More often than not, a student’s motivation to read assigned reading is quite low, but Faulkner’s writing creates a whole new level of desperation to avoid the novel. The complicated sentences and common themes Faulkner uses create a difficult reading for anyone, especially unmotivated students.

In the duration of this English class we have read multiple essays. The essays include a short story, “Eleven” by Sandra Cisneros whose main idea is that there is not a correlation between age and emotional evolution. “College Pressures” by William Zinsser argues that college students are under excessive stress to plan their future and succeed. The narrative, “Mother Tongue”, by Amy Tan focuses on the variants in the universal English dialect which is based on one’s background. “Indian Education” by Sherman Alexies main purpose is to help readers understand the immense impact racism has on Native Americans. Each story had a different purpose but the common theme the essays shared was an educational setting.

Gerald Graff suggests that passion for English has both innocent and corrupt components (26). Some people have always had a natural gravitation towards English. They have an inherent fondness for reading; a love that they discover during their early childhood. For other people, they experience a large indifference and apathy towards books for much of their lives. For many, books are unappealing until they find a novel to which they personally connect. The discussion and debate, the analyzation of the author’s message and motive are what beckons to these types of people. My individual appreciation of English is a combination of the two sides, innocent and corrupt. This narrative explores how my personal experiences with English have solidified

The morning of October 4 was the date of the South Carolina flood. I remember waking up to my parent’s voice saying “everyone wake up, fast.” Then I ran downstairs to see water seeping in through the doors. All the carpets were starting to float up. I saw my mother and she said to put on shorts so that my pajama pants would not add weight. In addition, she said to put tennis shoes on. By the time I made my way downstairs, everyone was running around. The dogs were taken out of their kennels and were being held. My father went over to the garage and flipped on the lights to see if he could reach the boat. However the water had risen too high to go in the garage. Suddenly we saw lights appear in the driveway, we realized it was a car. We were so joyful until we recognized that it

'The book, how will it end?' I popped the question as his fingers absent mindedly made curls in my hair. We had been lazing around for quiet a while now. Autumn was at its peak and a chill had started settling in my bones. He gave me a sidelong glance as he mumbled, 'Don't you wanna know that yourself?' even though his face remained hidden by his diary I could've sworn I saw a ghost of his smile. 'Come on don't be sucha tease' upon hearing the impatience in my voice he huffed a laugh and sat his diary aside. I sat up beside him, our backs leaning on the old oak tree.

The English philosopher, Sir Francis Bacon, once wrote, “ Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man”. Bacon expresses three ideas about how processing literature affects an individual. To explain, reading fills one’s mind with knowledge and ideas, talking about those ideas makes one adaptable to differences in others, and writing forces one is define one’s beliefs and opinions. In room 303, Bacon’s three statements are practiced regularly, as students read and annotate out of the hymnals, discuss major texts in class, and write essays each week over the material. During the last semester alone the Junior Honors English class read several texts by American Authors from the ancient oral cosmogonist myths of Native Americans to the Feminist literature of the 1890’s. In the entire range of different texts read, three specific texts were the most important in room 303.

The cold rain fell down on my body as I involuntarily shiver from the cold wet feeling on my skin. I look around to find myself surrounded by puddles of water and no way out. My breath was visible through the air. I was one of the best days to run in as well as the worst. It was another exciting day at track.

In the duration of this English class we have read multiple essays. The essays include a short story, “Eleven” by Sandra Cisneros whose main idea that there is not a correlation between age and emotional evolution. “College Pressures” by William Zinsser argues that college students are under excessive stress to plan their future and succeed. The narrative, “Mother Tongue”, by Amy Tan focuses on the variants in the universal English dialect which is based on one’s background. “Indian Education” by Sherman Alexies main purpose is to help readers understand the immense impact racism has on Native Americans. Each story had a different purpose and main idea but the common theme the essays shared was an educational setting.

"Yup the author has everything figured out other than our rescue" Peter said with a touch of glee."She says she gets 'motivated' by reviews. Don't worry I have updated my cuss word vocabulary to yell at the bad guy when you are being tortured"

She thanked him for the drink then continued him to listen until he had finished explain why she was there. She raised her brow though when he gestured to the men's clothing but nodded her head. "I understand, I know a lot about this world, its in my book, here in my pocket." she said pulling a small red leather bound book and held it up. "It was written about you and seems to show me what kind of awful monster Pan is to you." she said softly as she sat straighter on the bed, she moved over a bit to allow him to sit beside her if you wished. "I was just shocked, seeing

English is the most popular language in the United States that we use, and it is also the hardest language to learn. Although English is my first language and I’ve never had to go through this, by reading Hoffman’s writing, I can imagine what her experience would have been like. The writing From Lost in Translation: A Life in A New Language, there are two passages that caught my attention, while I was going through the reading it helped me to understand how she felt during that hard time period.

"Don't touch me, Wulfric?" she said and pushed my hands away from her soft skin.

It had been a miserable day; bitter cold, the streets and sidewalks were capped in ice and snow, grey clouds hung low in the sky. There were barely ten students in class, but the teachers were still adamant about doing work. The school day seemed to be never ending, but eventually I was free. When I got home, I was both physically and