As a writer, I think that I am not as good as I thought I was back in high school. I see myself as a student who tries their best, but makes “B” average work. I have never really taken the time to relate to my papers. I always just wrote what the teacher wanted and handed it in. In my mind, I never really liked trying to explain in full detail what something meant.
I haven’t done a lot of writing in the past. However, the writing I have done has just been for my school. I have never liked writing so I kept writing only to what I needed to write for school. But the kinds of writing I have done are reports, autobiographies, and writing about people from history. I never wanted to do my writing assignments like I was supposed to, which didn’t help me learn how to write.
I needed an outlet from the pointless assignments which inevitably turned into me writing my own short stories and blogs. Although I did not learn much about writing from this unproductive class, I learned a lot about myself. I found my passion. By the end of the year, I was ready to go into regular English, but in the back of my mind I knew I had to at least see what the next year was like. I felt as though I went through hell and back with the previous class, how much worse could the next be?
My academic career in high school wasn’t exactly what you would call the smoothest journey, but one thing I can confidently say is that it prepared me for college. Through all the all complicated tests, tight schedules, and the heavy loads of work I realize that I didn’t necessarily have to be a decorated student to understand the message. However that is only one of the few reasons I believe I did well in my first at college; ultimately it was more of a psychological drive that kept me pushing through thick and thin. During graduation I was under the depressing belief that this day would probably be the last day I ever see some of my friends ever again. While sitting in the front row during the graduation ceremony I was able to see a good amount of students walk by with special cords resting on their shoulders signifying some sort of achievement; the weight around my shoulders was practically nonexistent, unless you want to count the robe.
It was important that I go to a good university or I won’t be able to get a good job when I graduated. Even though, I didn’t rank as high as I was in middle school, I was doing well enough on my exams; my counselor and teachers told me that I might be able to go to any universities of my choosing. I was very relieved and satisfied with myself; this was my life goal after all. The life of a high schooler was much harder and more completed than a middle schooler. I had to study every day to keep up with the amount of materials that were given out in class—they were much deeper and complicated.
All I know is that writing the poems that I once did is difficult to do and I seldom do it. Can I blame that on my high school teachers? When they told me how to write and what to write? Or must the blame fall on me? Or is there no one to blame?
I rarely did any writing out of school or for leisure as most people do. I only wrote because the teacher asked us to. Writing has always been forced onto me. Even though my writing isn't that great, I've felt that I've never been given the freedom to express my voice. Academic writing has always made me anxious.
As I grew up I did not like the material that had to be read or the papers that was required to be written; but since I knew the work had to be done accurately in order for me to pass the class I learned to tolerate the subject. Throughout high school, the English courses were very time consuming and over whelming resulting in me disliking the subject even more. The assignments and readings that were usually given took up the majority of my time; this resulted in work from my other courses being left unfinished. My last two years of school consisted of research papers and in class compositions. But nothing compared to the tedious work that I encountered my junior and senior year when I decided to challenge myself by taking AP English courses.
While writing you are expected to make little to no mistakes, which is not something I’m great at. I am so much better at explaining things with verbal words rather than written words. I had not taken any extra writing classes before this year rather than the mandatory ones. Like I had stated before, I hate writing, with a passion. I dread writing anything, especially an essay for school, like this one.
A recent failure that has changed how I go about my daily life is one that many college freshman experience in their first year. In high school I was a very good student, but I did not have to put in a lot of effort to get the grades that I wanted. I would joke with my friends and say that high school taught me how to put in the least amount of effort, and still get the maximum result. All of my teachers told me, as they did every student, that college was going to be different and if you do not put in more effort it would be very difficult. I knew this coming into school, but I am not sure if part of me wanted to prove people wrong, or if I actually was just adjusting to college life.