The Art of Writing
Writing was not an art for me. I can remember like it was yesterday, those dreaded essays for English Class when I was a first year student in College. I spent endless nights sitting in my room on my tiny bed, in the corner, writing and rewriting my essays, only to receive a “C” on the final draft. I was a shy, quiet girl, who had just graduated from a Catholic High School in Jamaica with great expectations. My high school was all girls. Every day to school, I wore a dark grey blouse and a long blue skirt, almost touching my ankles. I was excited at the start of college. College had little rules, no dress codes and great parties on Friday nights. I finally got to see boys in my classes. Most of all, detention was a thing of the past. Some of my expectations were quickly turned to dust when I met my English Professor, Miss Josephs. All of her previous students called her “Foxy” because of her white hair, crooked glasses and rigid stance. Miss Josephs was the cause of my fear for writing. She would make mean …show more content…
It was time for transition from high school to college. I was ready to make that big step. I decided to go to Miss Josephs for help. I had finally realized that Miss Joseph was not the problem. I was using her comments as an excuse for not doing well. My meeting with Miss Joseph was successful. I saw another part of Miss Joseph’s personality; she cared about her students. She taught me how to write from the heart. Writing entailed everything around us. It included our interpretation of situations and our life experiences expressed on paper. I went home and reviewed my notes on the many writing styles and formats. I began reading articles, books and literary pieces as inspiration for my writing. I was determined to become a better writer. Upon completion of the draft of my writing assignment, I would seek feedback from my peers and
Writing was not an art for me. I can remember like it was yesterday, those dreaded essays for English Class when I was a first year student in College. I spent endless nights sitting in my room on my tiny bed, in the corner, writing and rewriting my essays, only to receive a “C” on the final draft. I was a shy, quiet girl, who had just graduated from a Catholic High School in Jamaica with great expectations. My high school was all girls. Every day to school, I wore a dark grey blouse and a long blue skirt, almost touching my ankles. I was excited at the start of college. College had little rules, no dress codes and great parties on Friday nights. I finally got to see boys in my classes. Most of all, detention was a thing of the past. Some of my expectations were quickly turned to dust when I met my English Professor, Miss Josephs. All of her previous students called her “Foxy” because of her white hair, crooked glasses and rigid stance. Miss Josephs was the cause of my fear for writing. She would make mean …show more content…
It was time for transition from high school to college. I was ready to make that big step. I decided to go to Miss Josephs for help. I had finally realized that Miss Joseph was not the problem. I was using her comments as an excuse for not doing well. My meeting with Miss Joseph was successful. I saw another part of Miss Joseph’s personality; she cared about her students. She taught me how to write from the heart. Writing entailed everything around us. It included our interpretation of situations and our life experiences expressed on paper. I went home and reviewed my notes on the many writing styles and formats. I began reading articles, books and literary pieces as inspiration for my writing. I was determined to become a better writer. Upon completion of the draft of my writing assignment, I would seek feedback from my peers and