Mr Kobesky Research Paper

From childhood I did not love writing and did not put much effort into developing my writing skills. Although I used to hate writing, I did love reading from the moment I remember myself. I think the reason why I didn’t like writing is because I used to like just absorbing information rather than expressing my opinion about it on the paper. I believe that my mom was the one, who flourished in me love to books and reading. My mom is a doctor and she loves to read. She does not only read books connected with her profession, but also books that are not necessarily connected with medicine. When I was a child she used to read to me the story books. Most of my memories from

It seemed like a normal day when I entered Mrs. A’s AP Language and Composition class, but little did I know that she was going to assign a very important project that was going to take forever. I took my seat and wrote down what was on the board. Then I sat patiently and waited for Mrs. A to come explain what we were doing today. When the tardy bell rang, Mrs. A glided into the room and gave us all a stack of papers. She then proceeded to discuss our upcoming assignment, a memoir. As she explained the very important assignment, I wondered whom I would write about. No one really came to mind to write about and I thought for sure I would never be able to get this thing done on time. I finally decided that I would write in on my mother, Kari

Through this creative writing class, I gained a newfound respect for writing. Writing had allowed me and continues to allow me to see the world through a different perspective; with this thought in mind, I decided I would no longer allow creative writing to be placed on the backburner in my life. When the outside world goes to shambles, I know I can turn to writing to help me make sense of what is happening and to escape life’s troubles even if only

When did I realize why I have hated writing for so many years? Well, it was a Monday afternoon in the beginning of my senior year. Walking into to my last class of the day, I realized I was in an exceptionally good mood. Soon I would no longer have to sit in these uncomfortable chairs of my school. The classrooms of Blackstone Valley Tech were no different to jail cells; the concrete walls covered in cream paint, the yellow tile which seems to break everyone’s’ phones and the lack of windows, restricting the outside view. I sat one of the blue plastic chairs with metal legs in the back corner of my English class. The teacher, Mr. Kehowski, comes bolting in the room with a pile of papers in his hand. He was a tall man of normal build, had thinning hair, almost balding. His eyes were sharp and his nose pointy, wearing the usual; a sweater vest and khakis. This man was always jittering and super enthusiastic, which seemed to be a side effect of the 10 cups of coffee he had to drink each day. His voice was deep and slightly raspy, similar to the voice of a smoker.

“Learning is not attained by chance, it must be sought for with ardor and diligence.” On the first day of school when I walked into this classroom, little did I how great of an impact this class would have on my life. Not only did I greatly improve my writing, reading, thinking, and speaking skills, but as a human being overall. Despite all the long, sleepless nights, I am grateful for what this class has provided me. This class has shown me that individuals always have room for improvement, and this improvement can be reached through hard work and dedication. With all the knowledge I received from this class, from individualism to the horrors of indifference, I hope to not let this information stray within my mind, but to share it amongst

But over the course of the year she bragged about how she was the instructor of the school’s environmentalist club. I thought, although she may not know much about the topic, she was passionate about it, like me. After countless presentations about this paper over the next two weeks, I learned more than I really wanted to: It will determine whether we pass the program or not, it will take us all of senior year, it must be at least four thousand words, we must write the paper, not our mentor, it was our senior thesis paper and it will shape our writing for college. At that point, my excitement about Ms. Pillarella vanished. It wasn’t that I distrusted her mentoring skills, after all she was a teacher. But I distrusted her dependability as a mentor, after all she was the most disorganized teacher I have ever known. But that did not matter because it all

Mrs. Thompson influenced me to thoroughly enjoy language arts class and to look forward to it. She has taught me how to improve my writing and to identify how other authors develop their stories. I appreciate this because I have something to look forward to every day - language arts class. I also have learned countless root words, techniques, and how to use specific word choice to my advantage. I admire her because not only does she help kids grow, but she also has a closer relationship to each and every one of us which makes it very easy to ask for help. When I had to write an application essay for a high school, Mrs. Thompson didn’t hesitate to help me. Her relationship with the class is something that you do not see often. She made learning enjoyable and I am thankful that I had Mrs. Thompson as a teacher because I do not know if I would have loved language arts as much as I do

Mrs. Raney not only taught me the lesson of the day but she also taught me life lessons. By this she taught me nobody is perfect, to come out of my shell and bring my inner leader out, and lastly made me excited to have a book in my hands and read. Mrs. Raney had a life-long impact on me and she doesn’t even know that she does. She thought she just taught me how to diagram sentences, but really what she taught me was to come out of my shell and be the confident me that I should

Writing is essential to everyone ranging from grade-schoolers to adults. We use what we learn throughout our whole lives, and gradually improve along the way. Now looking back at and going through previous assignments I can surely reflect. These writings include our letters to the class of 2016, personal narratives, informative composition, process analysis composition, and several smaller pieces of writing.

When I was in fourth grade my math and reading teacher was mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith was a very nice teacher the nicest I've ever had. I was one of her favorite students I still see her at my brother's open houses. At the end of the year both teachers make a speech and speak it to the whole fourth grade. I was in mrs. Smith’s end of the year speech.

I walked into my first day of 6th grade English class greeted by a young woman with a voice that easily filled the entire classroom. I listened intently as my English teacher introduced herself and enthusiastically described all the creative assignments that were awaiting us. As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I excitedly thought to myself that this was going to be a great teacher who challenged me. After all, writing was one of my passions as evidenced by the endless notebooks and scraps of paper that blanketed my bedroom. As the first few days unfolded I was optimistic and excited. That was until the work began.

Before my senior year in high school I dreaded the thought of writing a paper, writing came as an immense struggle for me. I never had any confidence in what I wrote; I couldn’t help feeling that my writing was very subpar when compared to that of my classmates. It always seemed that the reason for my passing grades on papers was due to my teachers trying to rush through grading, rather than my ability as a writer. I felt like this was a reoccurring theme ever since I had entered middle school, because of this I felt my confidence as a writer slip from me slowly but surely. This continued until I met Mrs. Blevens, the instructor for my senior year writing class. I felt like she was the first teacher that I had that cared about her students writing. No person comes close to what she did for me my writing like she does. Mrs. Blevens knew how to push her students out of their comfort zone, probably the most important thing you can do for a young writer. In order to grow as a writer you need to be pushed at times in order to gain, even if it makes you uncomfortable and that’s exactly what Mrs. Blevens did for me.

When I began the second grade, I loved my teacher Mrs. Register. She always told me I could do anything if I put my mind to it. Everyday we would have free time where we could do anything. When free time came, I immediately went to the book-shelf, picked out a book, sat on the floor and began to read imagining I was in another world. Reading books was a way for me to learn new knowledge and apply what I learned to my daily life. Mrs. Register also gave prizes to the fastest reader in the class. One day, she brought brownies and I wanted one really bad. I told myself, “You have to beat everybody in the class during speed reading.” Since my last name was Underwood, I had to wait patiently. When it was finally my turn, I read the passage and beat everybody’s time. The delicious brownie to eat was mine! If it was not for Mrs. Register, I would not have found my passion for reading.

Task 1. When I reflect on my academic writing history, I can vividly remember the name of the people that shape my attitude, belief or emotion about writing. It all began, when I was in 6th grade. My teacher at the time, Mrs Postma, would gave us spelling quiz on Fridays. At first, I hated it so much because for one, I just came straight from Togo, and secondly, I’m just starting to learn English words. The words she would quiz us on are words that we had spent the week learning. Sometimes, she would give us hints on difficult words, but still I was struggling to understand those hints. We did this twice in every month for the entire year. At the end of the school year, my view on these vocabularies changed. I enjoyed the quizzes and began speaking fluently in English by the end of the year. A couple years later, I started high school and during my freshman year, my teacher, Mrs. Sisco would have us turn in a book report every week. She would challenge us and she grades hard; it is not easy to get an A in her class. Because of this, I always work hard to write well so that I could get A, but I never seem to get it until the second semester of my freshman year. Mrs. Sisco is one of those teachers that shape my attitude on writing. She did not let me get A with anything I turned in. Although I’m not best at writing yet, I know I would not be where I am in writing today without her critics, challenges and of course the help of God.

Writing is powerful. It gives us freedom to be the illustrator of our own imagination. While growing up I would write until my hand was sore, through schooling, teachers and different experiences I lost my love for writing. Now I have to give myself a mental pump up, before picking up a pencil, or sitting down to write a paper. My journey through writing is a rocky one, with accomplishments and detriments. I cherished writing growing up, I lost that desire, I have strengths and weaknesses as a writer, and I hope that I can regain the love I once had for writing, in this class.