When I was in middle school, I fell in love with writing. I would look forward to my teachers explaining how paragraphs were formed and proper organization of an essay. My English teacher from 6-8 grades, Mr. Moeckli, inspired me to pursue my writing beyond his class. He had me keep a journal of my favorite passages from the books we were reading, almost like a dialectical journal but he never graded it. Every night I would find a moving sentence from The Giver or Lord of the Flies and discuss its meaning and my interpretation. At the end of each month Mr. Moeckli would collect my journal and comment on the grammar or spelling mistakes. He never gave me a grade, only constructive criticism that I can still remember. When I reached high school, I longed for his feed back and belief in me because my new teachers fell short. Public high school teachers did not have the time to pay special attention to me or nurture my fondest of writing in ways that Mr. Moeckli had done at my small private middle school. The classes were a breeze but I did not grow in ways that I had hoped. We read the same material I had already read in previous years and learned more confusing essay structures. The Jane Schaffer Paragraph was my least favorite method that teachers seemed to constantly ask for in our writing. My paragraphs were more advanced than that technique but I was graded down because I strayed from the format. Soon I found myself unconsciously writing with less control over my words than I had done in middle school. It was not until my A.P. English Language class that I regained my style and honed my writing. Two years were seemingly wasted on faulty techniques that promote a simplistic standard of writing. I didn’t think my middle school knowledge was too relevant until May of 2009. I was in a large gym taking my last AP Test of high school: AP English Literature. I was not too nervous because I had an A in the class but the test was going to be difficult to pass. I finished the multiple guess, the first two essay questions and began reading the last “Outside Knowledge” prompt. I blanked. It asked us to analyze the symbolism of an inanimate object from a short list of books. I hadn’t read many of the book recently enough to write an essay on the symbolism, so I freaked out. Everyone was feverishly writing and I had nothing. Then, as if a sign from God, it hit me. Lord of the Flies. I knew everything about that book: important sentences, key passages, the characters, and even the symbolism. I closed my eyes and remembered so clearly my teacher saying, “Piggy’s glasses-wise,knowledge,hope.” Four years after reading the book and hearing the lecture, I wrote an essay on the symbolism of Piggy’s glasses, the conch shell and Ralph’s tears as they sailed away from the island. I could not believe it. I was so thankful. I remember every english teach I’ve ever had since kindergarden and each one has made a huge impact on my life. English is a beautiful language and I’m so lucky that I experienced many talented educators who share my same passion.
Urpitude | n. | Depravity; baseness: "Mr. Castor was fired for moral turpitude." |
Tyro | n. | Beginner; person lacking experience in a specific endeavor: "They easily took advantage of the tyro." |
