I had never been comfortable or particularly skilled at writing in the past. Writing has never been something that has come easy to me. I always viewed it as an act of punishment or an induced pain from spiteful teachers. I thought English teachers lived to fail students due to grammar mistakes, but as intense as that sounds, it is not true.
So, in the seventh grade when I learned I had to write a 3 page essay explaining why I chose a certain sound track for, “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe,” it destroyed me. The essay was the first real essay I had ever written on my own, and to be completely honest, I was petrified. I was not a strong grammar student. I could not even explain what a subordinate clause was. As if to make matters worse, I could not spell to save my life. Even so, I trudged on into the battle of my essay. I wrote draft after draft, the frustration growing, but it still seemed as though something was not clicking. I could not connect to the writing. To me, it felt like someone else was talking and writing for me. I was not interested and could not figure out how to become more invested in the essay. Despite my best efforts to relate to the essay, something still felt off. So like any bored, tired, and annoyed student would do, I submitted what I had and hoped my teacher would take pity on me. He did not take pity on me or give me
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My teacher praised me for being able to connect to the topic. He explained to me that I had to view writing as telling a story. He also suggested that I should not try to sound older but to speak like myself. My writing would sound more put together and fluid that way. Afterword, he told me he knew I struggled with the task but was not sure how to help me until he realized he had to show me. By allowing me to see the difference an emotional connection could make he gave me a little more confidence in my writing. My writing might not be publish worthy, but it sure has come a long