When I first came to Boston, my life was on the fast track. I received a full-tuition scholarship. I was thinking about Medical school and where I wanted to go. Then, when scheduling my classes, I saw that I had to take mandatory writing classes. My heart dropped. All throughout my years of schooling, the one subject was always the bane of my existence was Writing. Schools called it many different pretty and academic names to make it seem harmless and just another class, but for me it was like a death sentence. My communication skills are bad. My hearing loss caused me to stumble on words, I could barely keep up with conversations because I couldn’t really hearing and focus on what was being said. These are some of the factors that affected my writing. My mother would always call me out on not communicating and writing properly and clearly. She said it is because I write how I talk and when writing I have the conversation in my head without realizing that my fingers were not catching up to them, causing my writing to miss things or only have half of the conversation. So, when my teachers or parents would read my writing, they would scratch their heads and ask what are you talking about. The best way to describe my literary journey in this class is through the metaphor of a train. When I first started out the class, my first stop was a self-reflective essay on my strengths and weaknesses as a writer. On Exercise 1, I was called out for being wordy, and rightfully so. I
My relationship with writing is hard, my writing doesn’t always flow well. My writing also doesn’t always come easily to me. More often than not, I have to sit and think for long periods of time, for to come up with ideas on how to start my essays. When I start with paper and pen my hand will start aching, and that makes it difficult to concentrate on what I am trying to express through my writing as it takes my mind off what I am currently thinking of writing down. Writing is the course I have always struggled with the most throughout high school, and through my first year of college.
It is hard for me to focus on writing. When you read my writings, it is very obvious within the first paragraph. My work is much better, and more enjoyable to read, when I write in a quiet place with few distractions. My teachers never really questioned my writing until 10th grade. I could wait till the night before a paper was due, crank one out in under an hour, and the teacher would use it for an example paper in class the next day. Ms. Yard, my 10th grade teacher, was the first to call my writing bluff. I learned that writing was much more then writing. In order to have a good writing piece, as explained in “What Writing Is”, you have to be able to write something that is
I agree with the article Trump’s crusade against immigrants is an attack on America by The Washingtons Post editorial board, stating that Donald Trump is inhumanely attacking immigrants with the excuse of legal issues, but in actuality is punishing immigrants because of his xenophobia.
Let's be honest, I'm not the best writer. I have had to write paper after paper for about 12 weeks. Writing isn’t my strong suit and I don't think it will ever be a strong suit of mine. During the 12 weeks of composition class, I have seen improvement in my writing. Many people don’t like writing but writing skills are needed in life. I'm a junior in high school and if I want to get scholarships for college, I'm going to need to write essays. Whether I become a plumber or a CEO I need writing skills.
Woodrow Wilson’s presidency was by many accounts one of the most successful in American history. Not only did his domestic affairs and reform policies give birth to the modern age of liberalism but his foreign policies would lead the United States to victory in World War I. This would in turn contribute to the United States involvement in world affairs.
Writing has always been my most difficult part of English. Reading, on the other hand, is something I could do all day; however, with writing, I grimace just thinking about it. It was not that I did not have anything to say, because I actually have quite a bit to say. I just could never figure out how to phrase what I had to say in just right way on the page. My mom taught me to read and write at a young age. After that, I would devour any book that I could get my hands on. However, I have had trouble with writing since it became more than just my alphabet and numbers.
It wasn’t until this class, where I was told that I was not being asked to explain in great detail what has shaped me into this amazing writer that I am today, but instead to explain what type of writing I feel comfortable with. At that point I realized that this assignment may not be quite as difficult as I thought.
I full heartedly blame my previous teachers for my current writing disability. I had just turned ten years old, we were about to begin our very first essays and it was on that day that my hatred of personal essays began. I didn’t find it difficult to write and I actually enjoyed the experience. We wrote brief, terrible stories both true and fictional that I’m truly sorry and grateful my teacher was able to read. Later, my writing began to improve and we learned to write in an argumentative and analytical way using facts and evidence and this is where I thrived. I loved the hours of research and the beauty of writing a well formulated thought. Then I noticed the lack of “I.” As my writing grew more bearable, the point of view changed and I took a note which my teachers confirmed. Eventually this idea grew until I couldn’t even read, much less write, a piece constructed in the first person.
Have you ever been given an assignment where you say to yourself, “how the heck am I going to do this?” or maybe, “what am I supposed to write about?” Well that’s exactly how I felt, thought, and did with this writing journey. Coming up with something to say about my writing journey has been difficult. I would be bold enough to say nearly impossible. So impossible it’s like trying to get a camel through the eye of a needle. Okay that might be an exaggeration, but it has been difficult. The idea that I have a writing journey I understand. But thinking of an event or something that has made my writing the way it is has been difficult. So, what I’ve decided to do then is to write about my writing journey writing this paper.
From a young age, I was considered a competitive individual in the activities I participated. Once I was given a challenge I would try my hardest to be number one. I have always loved to read, enter spelling bees and public speaking competitions. I have encountered many challenges in life, but writing has always seemed to be the most tedious activity. Soon I began to have to read more books, write papers, and do even more presentations. With everything piling so quickly, that competitive spirit within myself passed and was replaced with fear of not doing well. My fear lead to my struggles in my classes, especially English.
As a student, I have struggled with dyslexia, which makes English and writing classes much harder for me. I have pushed myself to comprehend spelling, grammar, and punctuations. As a result of this disability that causes my spelling and punctuation errors, I never received an A in a writing class, I have always earned low Bs or C’s. Over the last year, I have learned how to properly use writing techniques, which in turn has also bettered my writing skills. I have put my best effort into every paper I have written for this class. As a result, my abilities as a writer have improved as I progressed.
Written commcation has always been difficult for me. I have always struggled with reading and write, spelling was the worst. I have a mild learning disability, which made writing hard even though I enjoyed writing. Since I was young, I have been embarrassed to read out loud or to have someone look at something I wrote, not because I thought it wasn’t good, but because I knew there were misspelled words everywhere. Growing up I was always placed into lower level reading classes and had to take after school classes to help me improve. I didn’t like reading because of this reason, so I never picked up a book and read it though until I was in 5th grade. The very first book I ever read was “Because of Winn-Dixie.” My friend at the time knew I struggled with words and wanted to help.
My successfulness and my struggles began when I first learned how to write and read in Spanish and sixteen years later I was force to learn a new language which is English. Back in the Dominican Republic where I’m originally from in between ages five to eight my mother and I struggle with my writing skills. My mother struggle teaching me how to write and I struggle learning how to write clearly because my teachers couldn’t understand anything written by me. I cannot remember how my writing skill look back then, but I can remember how shamed I felt when my classmates made fun of my writing materials. Once my friends wrote in the board “El profesor esta muy loco” translation (the teacher is crazy) with a crappy hand writing before the teacher
English is a hard language to learn, for there are numerous elements of effective usage and writing. Many people, including me, struggle in writing because of a lack of knowledge. Since middle school, English was not a strong suit of mine. I struggled with the simplest of tasks often taking a considerably longer time to complete a task than the other students. Unmotivated teachers and a lack of interest resulted in remedial writing skills. To put it simply, I had little confidence in my writing and I dreaded taking the class because of the writing involved. In spite of my fears, I took the course and I was able to perfect and challenge my mediocre writing skills.
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