The chemical differences between the substances water and oil are immiscible- meaning that they will not mix together. This also describes the relationship that I have with writing. Throughout my previous thirteen years of schooling I have encountered multiple teachers that have focused solely on the format in which is paper is written rather than the content that is found in a paper. The only time any of my teachers ever focused on content and grammar of our papers was not until they graded them and at that point I was already being marked down at least twice per sentence due to my lack of grammatical knowledge. My teachers had me spending many hours memorizing pointless vocabulary words for weekly tests then after I completed the last question
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At the annual book fair this year I went the very first day and spent my whole lunch period walking through the few aisles of metal rolling book cases that they had to offer and organized a wish list of about 20 books. When I got home that day from school and asked my mom if she could give me money for the book fair she agreed to giving me $25, which was definitely not going to get me even half of the books that I wanted so badly. I spent the rest of that week asking other family members, even grandparents and aunts and uncles, if they would donate $15 to my fund for the book fair. After generous gifts of money from multiple family members I collected enough money to buy almost all of the books that I wanted. When I came home with the books my mom had fumes coming out of her head, she could not believe I “wasted” money on so many books. To this day this incident still comes up, to my mom I was wasting money that wasn’t mine but in my own 7th grade opinion she was wrong and I couldn’t wait to read every word in those …show more content…
I find myself comparing my fondness of reading to Malcom X’s. Malcom X wrote, “… every night at about ten p. m. I would be outraged with the “lights out”. It always seemed to catch me right in the middle of something engrossing.” I compare how I never wanted to put a book down no matter who told me what. Malcom found his own way to “trick” his guards, he would move to the floor where he could find enough light to illuminate the pages of his book just enough for him to read until the guards came past his cell making their hourly checks. When I was younger I did something so similar to Malcom X, except for the fact that Malcom was being held prisoner in a cell, while I felt to be prisoner of my room when the days turned to nights. Every night I would grab the book that I was indulged in at the time and I would use the backlight of my phone to light up the pages in my dark room. When ever my mom would come to my room to check on me, usually an hour or two after I was sent to bed, I would quickly and quietly throw my book underneath my pillow and shut my phone off then hide my face deep within my blankets so she couldn’t examine my fake sleeping face closely enough to determine that I was still awake. I was often caught and yelled at but I never understood how my mom could yell at me if I was doing something that would help me in school. I
At the annual book fair this year I went the very first day and spent my whole lunch period walking through the few aisles of metal rolling book cases that they had to offer and organized a wish list of about 20 books. When I got home that day from school and asked my mom if she could give me money for the book fair she agreed to giving me $25, which was definitely not going to get me even half of the books that I wanted so badly. I spent the rest of that week asking other family members, even grandparents and aunts and uncles, if they would donate $15 to my fund for the book fair. After generous gifts of money from multiple family members I collected enough money to buy almost all of the books that I wanted. When I came home with the books my mom had fumes coming out of her head, she could not believe I “wasted” money on so many books. To this day this incident still comes up, to my mom I was wasting money that wasn’t mine but in my own 7th grade opinion she was wrong and I couldn’t wait to read every word in those …show more content…
I find myself comparing my fondness of reading to Malcom X’s. Malcom X wrote, “… every night at about ten p. m. I would be outraged with the “lights out”. It always seemed to catch me right in the middle of something engrossing.” I compare how I never wanted to put a book down no matter who told me what. Malcom found his own way to “trick” his guards, he would move to the floor where he could find enough light to illuminate the pages of his book just enough for him to read until the guards came past his cell making their hourly checks. When I was younger I did something so similar to Malcom X, except for the fact that Malcom was being held prisoner in a cell, while I felt to be prisoner of my room when the days turned to nights. Every night I would grab the book that I was indulged in at the time and I would use the backlight of my phone to light up the pages in my dark room. When ever my mom would come to my room to check on me, usually an hour or two after I was sent to bed, I would quickly and quietly throw my book underneath my pillow and shut my phone off then hide my face deep within my blankets so she couldn’t examine my fake sleeping face closely enough to determine that I was still awake. I was often caught and yelled at but I never understood how my mom could yell at me if I was doing something that would help me in school. I