Oxygen Molecules Plants Harnessed For Photosynthesis

I came into school the next day hoping that my teacher would be pleased with what I had produced. My classmates and I “peer-reviewed” each others essays and I received some helpful feedback. Then Mr. Gustafson informed us that the final draft of our essays would be due the next day. We were told to look over what our classmates had written and put the finishing touches on our

August 28, 2017, the first day of my fresh and scary journey. My first day as a Colorado Christian University student, English composition online is my first class. Part of me is ready; part of me is ready to throw in the towel. I hadn’t even had a chance to turn a paper in, and the first assignment, a 5-paragraph essay had me thinking “you’re a crazy person for going back to school, it’s been 11 years since you had to write a paper. What are you thinking?” I told myself its 5 weeks (later I would realize actually 6) you can make it 5 weeks! Although I knew writing wouldn’t be my easiest subject, I knew I had to try my hardest. This class was condensed and hard, but effective and informative; I’ve learned so much, felt all sorts of emotions and know I can apply what I’ve learned in classes to come.

This English class was the best English class I have ever had. There were no tests, vocabulary quizzes, or in class essays, which made the class less stressful. Before this English class, I was afraid that I would not enjoy writing many essays or writing so many words in one paper. Afterwards, essays have become something that is not so much my favorite task in the world, but it has become more enjoyable to an extent. Professor Sullivan’s class has taught me to formally write a research paper, to analyze a book through responding to different quotes from the story or novel, to understand magical realism, and to understand my own passion for school and how much effort I will be willing to put out in years to come.

However, before the ultimate chance to succeed presented itself, there were months of hard work, assignments, practice tests, and passages to read. The road to success would not be easy, and there were frequent stops along the way. Writing an essay in forty minutes?! That was outrageous, Fran thought at first. Fortunately, Mrs. Belles would diligently meet or surpass her students with the effort she put into teaching; she consistently encouraged and taught her students in detail what they needed not only to pass the AP exam, but also prepared them for writing essays in college. In addition to knowledge, Mrs. Belles bestowed the gift of confidence upon her students, which Francine reports to be priceless and something

I stared at the blinking cursor, unbelieving at what I had just done. I was indeed done; done with a paper I agonized over for 6 hours. The paper was due in a scant 4 hours and I had all week to do it. The radio had stopped working because my brother got on the Internet and thus cut off my connection. That was the least of my problems working on this paper. I got it done, though. My life changed with one trip of a teacher to the chalkboard and one phrase, narrative essay. God, I hate narrative essays.

When classes first began in August, Professor Birnbaum informed our class about the four essays in which we would write throughout the course and be graded on strictly. In addition, we would also get into small groups weekly to gather ideas and improve our paper. Nevertheless, the first essay began. We were told as a class to write an essay on a personal experience in which meant greatly to us, so I wrote about a speech I gave in front of 700 people. I spent less than three days working on the essay with only one revision. In result, I received an outstanding grade of a 93, boosting my confidence in Professor Birnbaum’s class greatly. She commented on the paper that I needed to work on my verb tense, sentence structure, and mechanics that distract readers through the paper. In addition, she also let the entire class know that she would not be lenient in the next three papers and

Reflecting on my life as a means of deciding on a topic, one time period struck me as particularly important in terms of writing itself: my second year of second grade. Moving to Poway in 2007, the first class I was in was Mrs. Ramin’s 2-3 combo at Painted Rock. I had purple wire-rim glasses, a brown Hello Kitty tracksuit, two friends, and a hatred of writing. This was particularly unfortunate for young Analise, since Mrs. Ramin’s main focus was writing. She encouraged her students to write daily, setting aside 20-60 minutes each day for it. Although I hated it at first, my passion for creative writing grew as I turned my love for my sister and for Webkinz into tales of adventure and peril parallel to my then favorite series, Magic Tree House. I wrote, drew, and colored whatever my seven-year-old imagination spun for me. After that spark, the fire of writing died down to a smolder until eighth grade, when I wrote my first successful essay, “Flowers for Algernon: A Comparative Essay On How Two Versions of the Story are like

The blinds on the windows are shut, it feels like a prison cell as I sit under the spotlight. The darkness outside makes me feel somber and alone. I stare at the glowing screen and think to myself, “It’s just me and this paper.” In December of my junior year in high school, I was assigned a persuasive essay on Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel, The Scarlet Letter; it was my first academic essay of the year. My previous experiences with academic writing were both stressful and unfulfilling; when the essay topic was announced, I felt only resentment and anger, I remembered my past tribulations. With my mother’s help, this essay was different; after I submitted it to the teacher, I possessed a new perspective on academic writing. From my experience, I learned that strong writing skills are vital to communication, critical thinking, and life outside of the classroom.

As your paper finally slides into that dreadful homework basket, you realize you are finally done. That stressful weekend, with the anticipation, the typing, reading, re-reading and retyping. Is finally over, you have now handed in your essay. Does this sound familiar? Of course, it does! We have all worked on that English or history paper and felt relief after handing it in. But, why is this common event always so stressful for students? Perhaps it is in the way we write our essays, but is there any other way to do it? As it turns out… YES! There are many different strategies to writing, and in this editorial, we will outline some of the most commonly voiced methods.

As spring semester began, the anxiety pushed into my life. Since I knew I was going to be the youngest in the class, I was concerned if people were even going to talk to me. I expected to come into the stressful English 101 class as a relatively inexperienced writer; however, I was astounded when I started writing my first college essay. Our topic “monsters” has taught me ways to analyze and compare certain people and objects. My recommendation for those entering this composition class is to not wait until the last minute and ask as many questions as you can to reach your goal towards fantastic essays. Although spring semester is coming to an end, I will continue to improve my writing skills and reasoning as I advance in my English and college career.

This writer returned to the KUSD high school yearbook class later in the semester. This observer arrived before the start of the class period to discuss where the class was at in terms of completing the yearbook and meeting their deadlines. The cooperating teacher sighed and explained, “December is when this class needs to kick it into high gear. As soon as the holidays are over, all of our deadlines crawl out of the woodwork.” The bell rang, and less than ten students trickled into the classroom from lunch, and the teacher immediately started delegating tasks and alerting students of what needed to be accomplished during the class that day. Most of the students headed to their computers and began working on their assigned pages; some students left the classroom to take pictures, or to get quotes. A student approached the teacher about a college admissions essay that they had sent her for review and she assisted the student in editing it. This took ten minutes, and once completed she said, “Alright, can I get back to working on the yearbook now?” The teacher then began to walk around the classroom to check the children’s pages and correct any errors that were immediately present. She reminded certain students to check their grades, and then said to the class at large, “Don’t bitch at me if you get an F, because you need to get your ads turned in!” Some students laughed, but others looked unsettled. A student complained about another student’s work and the teacher agreed. A student said that she was going to fake a quote for a caption and the teachers

In August, our first day in the college class, Mrs. Garth talked with the class about what this semester was going to be like. She spoke to us as college students and not little children. She told us that Comp. was all about writing. As a class, we knew there would be more writing than we were use to, but the very first paper that Mrs. Garth told us to write was unlike any other paper I had ever wrote on my own. We were told to write about our favorite foods, our not so favorite foods, or a tragedy that has happened to us in our life. Of course, I wrote about the tragedy, my paper was written on the note of my grandmother passing away. I used very descriptive details in my writing about what the days were like for me and how I felt after she was gone. While writing the paper, I thought to myself

I breathed a sigh of relief as I read a stream of texts from my friends complaining about our AP Language and Composition class summer homework. It was the night before the first day of junior year, and they anxiously texted how they weren’t even close to being done or how they seemed to get severe writers block. I, on the other hand, had not only finished our analytical movie review assignment a week before, but had it proofread, printed, and ready to turn in during class the next day. I was confident and proud of my work and went to bed filled with the typical first day of school jitters.

I know that I don’t say much in this class. Mainly because I have nothing to say, but today I do. I decided to write this speech on how I’ve grown up and how I changed as a person after taking this class. Being in this class has helped me grow as a writer so now I can explain what I feel. When you understand that everyone is their own person and you try to think of them for who they are, you’ll start to grow up as the person you want to be. I've learned many things in this class but one thing that sticks out is that you can’t really start a paper knowing the ending of it. So I’m going to start off with one of the assignments, A day in the life. Then after I will write about whatever comes to my mind. Also what I’m about to read is in third person so whenever I say “he” I am referring to myself.

I watched in silence as my English teacher explained today’s lesson to the class, hearing what was said, but certainly not listening. Not a single word that came out of my teacher’s mouth, or any of my classmates’, was payed attention to by me. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the graffiti covered table, silently praying that I would remain undisturbed for the remainder of the lesson. It was nearly time to go home, and I was desperate to do so, so that I may escape the bore of the class I was forced to attend.