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This essay I need it for Wednesday 24 and I’m paying $60. I’m an English 101 student and I have to do the fist essay draft “Narrative Analysis Essay” I have attached the requirements and class notes.
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Douglas Omoruyi
Writing II: Rhetoric Composing
Assignment 1
MY EXPERIENCES IN THE ART OF COMPOSING ENGLISH
My earliest memory of writing was as a kid: an account that still put smiles on my face
because it reveals the kind of writer I had hoped I will one day become. I remember vividly, that
it was a delight listening to my teacher, reading and compose the English language—it always
tickled my fancy. Often times, the way the words were crafted, at times amused, confused and or
even made me wonder at all if I can ever be a good writer. At the end, all I ever wanted was to be
proficient in the art of writing, just like my tutor and mentor. The English language is not my
mother tongue, but its uniqueness intrigued me, even though as a child I had various languages
being thrown at me—as a consequence of living in a very much diversified African Nation in
terms of culture and languages, however, the love for the language persisted.
That was primary or elementary school. But there came junior high or junior secondary
school as it is called in my Country Nigeria, and by this time the interest in writing had grown
and was looking for ways to express itself. One day, after school at home, I stumbled upon a
local tabloid, The Punch, where a request was made for kids to send in entries to be published in
their kiddies section. I was elated that an avenue had eventually surfaced for me to show my
expertise in the Language I so revered. Daddy was there to cheer and encourage me, having
noticed my interest in the art.
As I walked home one day; on a very hot summer day, with a bosom friend of mine,
Usifo, and without warning and out of the blue came running towards us another friend of ours
screaming at the top of his voice “you have to see this”. Something had happened, but what? I
thought. Then it occurred to me—my piece was among the ones that were published at the
newspaper—my joy was beyond expression, very full. Apparently he had seen it in the
newspaper and was excited. I went into frenzy and showed the article to anyone who cared to
listen, classmates, friends, and people who came to visit our family were not spared either, I told
everyone of the great accomplishment I had achieved. It was like a medal, which I had won in
the Olympics which should be placed somewhere where everyone could see it and respect me.
College was exhilarating and overwhelming; I completely severed my relationship with
the art I once so worshiped. What had hit me; I couldn’t just explain maybe it was the wear and
tear of getting into the university, or was it my zeal to do science or something else. Back then,
securing admission into the university was fierce I had spent some years battling to get into the
university to do a degree in science and was disenchanted with education and hated the system.
All I could when I finally got in was do tests, assignments and examinations to fulfill all
righteousness. From then on, writing for me was dead. I stopped regarding myself anything near
being called a writer.
But then I met a friend, who was engrossed with reading of books she did everything to
rekindle my interest start to write again, and this was after a brief narration of the success story I
had attained in elementary school with the art, which served as the only archive I had about
writing. She made me realize that we are all are writers if and when we have ever written
anything before, whether it be for a school, contest or for our consumption. Nevertheless
recovering, from this sleep was hard, the long and huge gap of not practicing was a pain I was
not ready to undertake. Her perseverance paid off eventually, when suddenly the numbness to
composing was brought back to life by an advertisement that was placed in our department for
students to write a piece for the Nigerian Conservation Foundation (NCF) concerning issues of
the environment. Though, my entry never made it to the selection stage, but that was the spark
needed to revive deadness in writing for me.
Upon graduating, I explored and looked for every opportunity to perfect the art, because
now I was in the business world. And they abound, because everything you do has to be written,
from business letters—memo, query and emailing a friend telling him about your products to
writing a business proposal to a partner. It is very fun to once more engage in this wonderful
language of communication called the English language. So today, am seeking better ways to
craft the art and fulfill the long time dream of becoming an accomplished writer.
I would end this piece, however with words of Confucius “The expectation of life depends upon
diligence; the mechanic that would perfect his work must first sharpen his tools.”
Amy Nguyen
Professor Daniel
ENG 207
12 / 22 / 2021
Learning to Appreciate the Art of Writing
Back in my high school years, I used to hate writing in general because I wasn’t the best
at it. The thing I would find myself asking is why are there so many rules for writing? Why are
they so important? How can a person like me even excel in writing when I am inferior compared
to my English teachers? What is the point of writing? During my time in high school English
classes, I felt like I could never amount to my teacher’s expectations despite it being an honor
class. Writing is a difficult thing that I, or even others, struggle to do but from my experience, it
is a learning journey that includes lots of practice and patience.
English and writing are fundamental subjects taught in public school from kindergarten to
the twelfth grade of high school. My earliest memory with the two subjects was approximately in
first grade where I struggled to sound the letters with my teacher. I remember students quickly
picking up the lesson so easily whereas I found myself falling behind. Falling behind in the
world of English was a very common theme I would continue to encounter as I got older.
Throughout my time in middle and high school, I would excel in nearly all my classes
with the exception of English. Looking back on those years, I noticed that I had difficulty
comprehending passages I was given, despite the teachers reviewing and annotating the texts
with the class. In addition, my writing skills were at a beginner’s level and my essays were often
graded with an average score, compared to my peers whose essays were deemed excellent or
good. Although I had these setbacks I have received help from my English teachers throughout
the semester such as having them review my essays while also providing feedback, fixing
grammar errors, and having a day dedicated to grammar lectures. In addition, my teachers had a
unique way of grading my essays which are based on inclusion of an introduction, body,
conclusion, use of evidence and overall message of my writing. What makes the experience
unique is that they never gave a perfect grade to anyone because they said that “no writing is
perfect and it is something that is constantly worked on”. Hearing this from my English teachers
caused a personal frustration in me because they were far more experienced in composing
excellent writings while I was inexperienced and felt like I could never amount to their level.
Due to the constant unique encounter with how my teachers graded my work, I developed a
personal hatred with writing in general. I never got a perfect grade despite the constant edits I’ve
done and each time my paper was reviewed it was always marked up. The hatred I had for
writing followed me to college.
When I took a writing class, specifically Rhetoric and Composition, in my freshman year
of college at the Queen’s University of Charlotte. I thought that the grading system for college
would be similar to high school. Little did I know that my perception would be shattered and my
time in class would shape me into the writer I am today. Throughout the semester my professor
would assign essays varying with different objectives. In my first essay when I was assigned to
write a movie review I composed a draft and presented it to both my peers and professor for
review while I examined another student’s paper.
As I was examining peers’ drafts I was surprised at their use of extensive vocabulary and
how well written their work was. When reading their essays I felt personal embarrassment
because I knew my draft was no match with them. As I was editing their paper I didn’t provide
much feedback as I thought their work didn’t need much improvement. Upon having my paper
returned I expected my entire essay to be marked up with comments or suggestions and just as
expected it was. The comments were highly detailed on what could be done to improve my work.
Embarrassed and being a beginner writer I used all the suggestions provided to me and brought
the new edits to class.
The new edits were also met with suggestions or comments, in fact, there were occasions
it contradicted another peer’s edits. Although I understood their intention of trying to help me, I
knew I can’t include everything they mentioned I should work on and I knew I had to make the
decision on what I could include in my paper. This encounter build my confidence as a writer
and it taught me that I had control over what to include.
As the class progressed, the more I became in tune with writing essays. After the
completion time of each of the assignments, my professor had the students provide a short
answer on what grade they should receive and why they believe they deserved it. This was not at
all I encountered in high school and it was quite shocking. I was often quite honest with my short
answers, most of the time I graded my work with a ‘B’ and on rare occasions, I described it with
an ‘A’ or a ‘C’. When my professor presented all my drafts with the addition of my final draft I
was surprised to be met with the grade I thought and actually received. My professor noted to me
that I had a lot of growth and the hatred I once had for writing was out of my mind.
Reflecting back on my writing journey I was grateful for my English teachers and my
professor for helping me along the way. During my time in high school, I developed a personal
hatred for writing because I never got a perfect grade and they said writing is never perfect. At
the time I was young and didn’t realize they had good intentions. When I took Rhetoric and
Composition at the Queen’s University of Charlotte, my professor and peers helped me with my
writing skills along the course of the class, and the continuous encounter provided enough
exposure for me to become in tune with writing. The grading, though I found surprising and
strange, made me realize that I graded my work based on how I valued my work. Due to the
constant help, I got from my class the hatred I once had was gone and I have the teachers,
professors, and peers to thank that help shape me into the writer I am today.
Schneider1
Sydney Schneider
Professor Grimm
English 1101
August 27th, 2022
Life and Literacy
While growing up through school, I hated English classes for as long as I can remember.
Even though everyone was required to take one every year it was the class I always dreaded.
During my younger years, late elementary to middle school years, I found myself reading slower
than everyone else. On top of that, any easy writing assignment would feel like years to finish
because I never knew how to write and connect with my writing. I spent multiple nights staying
up late to finish an hour of reading that really took two to three hours for me. The struggle I went
through every week to stay afloat in my English classes were taking over me. Not to add, going
to High school soon terrified me. What I did not realize at the time was that high school was
going to save me, well with my reading and writing.
To this day, I still do not know if I’m the reason language arts, elementary English, was
hard to understand. I tried, I always did my homework and paid attention in class. So, perhaps
my teachers taught in a way that was harder for me to understand? The question remains
unsolved. During those years I concluded that English is not for me. I did, however, make sure to
pass my classes with A’s and B’s. Even though it took me longer than the average student to
complete any assignment related to English. I got it done.
Schneider2
During the end of my eighth-grade year, I was having the best time of my life. I had an
amazing friend group, made the honor roll, and started looking for a job. Everything started out
so great, I was beyond ready to go to High school and walk the halls with the big seniors. Except,
nothing was how I imagined it to go in High school. In fact, those were some of the worst and
hardest years of my life. Physically, I was there every day getting my work done and finding out
that I had a huge interest in the medical profession. Mentally, I was falling apart.
Everything started perfectly. I made it to High school, classes were easy, and I had a few
classes with my friends. So, me thinking nothing could go wrong, well, social media is what
went wrong. I never really had problems with my friends, maybe a few dumb arguments but
nothing our entire grade would find out. During my first year, I watched social media take away
many friendships and relationships. On top of that, I would hear things about people I went to
school with that I did not really want to know. Just know word goes around and fast, especially
nowadays with technology. Sooner or later, I found myself and my group of friends being talked
about throughout the school. I am not going to name any specific situation but now that I look
back at it, why? Why did I care so much what other people thought or said about me? I do not
even remember what half of those people looked like. But as a female who is going through her
hormonal stages during the time, I thought my world was ending.
As a result, I started going to therapy and had frequent doctor visits about the state of my
mental health. By the middle of my freshman year, I was taking medications for anxiety and
depression. The medications did nothing. My days felt like a record on repeat. Everything was
the same besides the fact that I was on pills and having to go to therapy. Out of the two, therapy
did benefit me the most. After finding a therapist I felt comfortable with, I could finally talk to
someone who is not going to tell a soul anything. It felt good to get some things out and see the
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situation from a second point of view. During those sessions, my therapist ALWAYS mentioned
getting a journal and writing down my real thoughts and feelings. But like I said before, I was
never good at reading and writing so I never took it into consideration. That was, until my sister
got me a cute journal. So, I gave it a try.
Towards the end of my freshman year, I started to write two to three times a week in my
journal. A place only I knew what was written. I realized I could not trust anyone, well besides
my family. Even then, there is only so much you can tell your family. I needed somewhere I
could be real and unfiltered without any drama. Sadly, I was a very personal person because of
how much I started writing. Of course, I had friends, and I loved my friends through thick and
thin, but from what I was writing it was like they did not even know me. Writing about my
personal life started to get scary easy. Eventually, I did not need therapy or drugs to help with my
anxiety. Writing was my cure.
Throughout the rest of my high school years, I wrote books worth of personal
information. Not only solving my mental problems but my physical problems with writing. All
my English classes started feeling like a breeze. From never being able to get A in English, to the
last three years in high school passing every English class with an A+. Without going through
those struggles in my life, I would have never been able to write how I do now, let alone, write in
a journal at home. This lesson has been one of the biggest life lessons I have gone through to this
day. I am beyond thankful to have had the family, friends, and therapists that motivated me to get
out of my depressive state and write about my life, good and bad.
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