When I was younger, my parents wished for me to be the definition of perfection; Unfortunately for them, I was and am anything but. Thankfully I was graced with parents that accepted me for me. However, they would always try to better me in any way. Throughout my life I have been pushed into academic activities, which frequently concludes with me forging a strong hatred or interest in the subject; there were no gray areas in my mind. English was odd, though; I was not able to determine whether I loved or loathed English. From as far back as I can remember, the pursuit to hone my reading and writing skills has followed me around my school as well as my own home. Throughout my limited experiences in life, I have developed a number of conflicting
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One of the more uplifting experiences I have had as a writer, begin with my 4th-grade teacher introduced poetry into my life. Poetry was a foreign idea in my mind; other than the stuff they had always fed us ranging from The Cat in the Hat to other obscure titles that echoed Seuss’s style. Most of Shenandoah Valley Elementary’s educators would dispense a writing assignment shortly after attempting spark inspiration among the class with whimsical rhymes. How I loathed the writing style, in the beginning, thinking to myself that there was absolutely no importance behind the weird and wacky rhymes; subsequent I came to recognize how much more thought was required in crafting poetry. Durning an early autumn day, Mrs. Missler read to the class The Spider and The Fly. Although it the poem did rhyme, it did not conform to the average impractical stories crammed with false words that I was accustomed to. The poem 's significance stood rather dark in contrast to the regular sickeningly sweet stories. A spider, eloquent and disarming, apprehends a heedless fly; With only the usage of his alluring mannerisms and courteous hospitality. Admiration was the main feeling I felt …show more content…
Books usually offered a hero, a conflict, and a resolution of some sorts; now mind you I was only 9 years old at the time, so I was mainly exposed titles such as Flat Stanley and The Magic Tree House. One day in the middle of October Mrs. Spindle took our class on one of our weekly trips to the library. Skeptically I scavenged the aisle in search of something entirely different from what I was accustom too. In the non-fiction aisle. Almost all my classmates scurried to the checkout counter, this was my cue to select something, so I pocketed a book labeled Jellies. I had read Jellies about a dozen times, it was my go-to book if I was not able to find something I was excited about; Mrs. Spindle would not let me return to class empty handed so this was my fall back plan. While going to the familiar cluster of faces, swarming around my stick-like teacher, I stumbled upon what I was aimlessly searching for. A glossy black spine stood out on the middle shelf, eagerly I snatched the book. On the cover I found its title Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, along with a horrifying illustration of a clown; its nose was blood red, its mouth that lacked lips formed an eerie smile, and with one eye it seemed to be watching me. The true author’s name oddly enough was not listed on the cover. Instead, it read, “Collected from Folklore and Retold by Alvin Schwartz.” To me, it was an alien idea
One of the more uplifting experiences I have had as a writer, begin with my 4th-grade teacher introduced poetry into my life. Poetry was a foreign idea in my mind; other than the stuff they had always fed us ranging from The Cat in the Hat to other obscure titles that echoed Seuss’s style. Most of Shenandoah Valley Elementary’s educators would dispense a writing assignment shortly after attempting spark inspiration among the class with whimsical rhymes. How I loathed the writing style, in the beginning, thinking to myself that there was absolutely no importance behind the weird and wacky rhymes; subsequent I came to recognize how much more thought was required in crafting poetry. Durning an early autumn day, Mrs. Missler read to the class The Spider and The Fly. Although it the poem did rhyme, it did not conform to the average impractical stories crammed with false words that I was accustomed to. The poem 's significance stood rather dark in contrast to the regular sickeningly sweet stories. A spider, eloquent and disarming, apprehends a heedless fly; With only the usage of his alluring mannerisms and courteous hospitality. Admiration was the main feeling I felt …show more content…
Books usually offered a hero, a conflict, and a resolution of some sorts; now mind you I was only 9 years old at the time, so I was mainly exposed titles such as Flat Stanley and The Magic Tree House. One day in the middle of October Mrs. Spindle took our class on one of our weekly trips to the library. Skeptically I scavenged the aisle in search of something entirely different from what I was accustom too. In the non-fiction aisle. Almost all my classmates scurried to the checkout counter, this was my cue to select something, so I pocketed a book labeled Jellies. I had read Jellies about a dozen times, it was my go-to book if I was not able to find something I was excited about; Mrs. Spindle would not let me return to class empty handed so this was my fall back plan. While going to the familiar cluster of faces, swarming around my stick-like teacher, I stumbled upon what I was aimlessly searching for. A glossy black spine stood out on the middle shelf, eagerly I snatched the book. On the cover I found its title Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, along with a horrifying illustration of a clown; its nose was blood red, its mouth that lacked lips formed an eerie smile, and with one eye it seemed to be watching me. The true author’s name oddly enough was not listed on the cover. Instead, it read, “Collected from Folklore and Retold by Alvin Schwartz.” To me, it was an alien idea