homework 3

easy on a topic 

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Cherrelle Patrick

Professor Rubin

English 1100, Section, 24

16 September 2015

Love At First Write

Junior year in high school was the most miserable time of my teenage life. You know that

thing called ‘senioritis’ right? Well I’m pretty sure I had it, or at least something very similar to

it, and I wasn’t even a senior yet! Don’t get me wrong; I still did all of my work for school. I

kept my grades up high. I mean, really high. And, I never missed any of my scheduled classes.

After all, perfect attendance meant everything to me those days and it kind of still does, to be

completely honest. Now I know what you all are thinking. This doesn’t sound bad at all. That’s

because it isn’t as bad on the surface. On the inside, I felt horrible. My stress level was at an all

time high and I didn’t know how to cope with it in a healthy way. I remember combing through

my reddish-brown hair only to find that I had a single strand of silvery grey hair hidden in my

head. It was so pretty, but of course no 17 year old girl in the world would be excited about her

hair starting to grey. Matter of fact, no woman ever gets excited about grey hairs. On top of that,

every night when I came home from school, I would just cry my eyes out. I refused to leave the

comfort of my room most days if it didn’t involve me having to go somewhere important.

Basically, my life that year sucked. I was not happy at all. I didn’t have any motivation or

inspirations to get me through those long days. I just wanted to be done with my whole “high

school career” and move on with the rest of my miserable life…

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As we all know, junior year is the most important year in high school (other than senior

year). This is the year where us teenagers have to seriously start thinking about our futures as

adults. We have to finally figure out what we want to do with our lives and how we are going to

successfully accomplish the goals we set. Most of us had it in our minds that we were going to

go to college. After all, that was our mission statement at DECA. We are going to college!! Well,

I had always dreamed of attending Wright State University, living on campus, and becoming the

independent soul I know I was destined to be someday. Of course, I am exactly where I always

hoped to be today. Thank God! However, it wasn’t easy getting to where I am right now.

Growing up, I wouldn’t say that my life was perfect. I also wouldn’t say it was terrible

either. I was raised by a single mother, mostly in small apartments, along with my younger sister.

We were never rolling in dough, but we always seemed to get everything we needed and

sometimes more. That’s just how it was, and how it always will be. I have always wondered how

my mom managed to do all the things she did for us, but the world may never really know that

answer. Mothers just have the natural ability to get the job done and making stuff happen.

Anyways, that’s not the point. The point is that we were broke as a joke. We did not have the

funds to do a lot of things we might have wanted to do such as: taking a nice vacation, eating out

at a nicer restaurant, or going on a real shopping spree. The money we had was always spent on

the necessities: food and water, shelter, bills, and the typical school expenses. So where in the

world was I going to find some money to go to a nice university?

I think the root of all my frustration in high school all ties back to our financial struggles.

I knew that my mom couldn’t afford to send me to college all on her own. And, I wasn’t too fond

of the idea to take out loans that I knew were going to take forever and a day to pay off. I didn’t

want to place that burden on my mother or myself. But, I knew that I had to find some way to get

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an education for myself. It was all I had. I had to be the example for my younger sisters and

prove everyone wrong. I wasn’t going to let myself end up like everyone else. And I’ll be

damned if I let my sisters follow down the wrong path either. So, I had to find a way to get into

college without digging myself into a deep hole. That’s when I found out about scholarships.

I was walking down the crowded halls of DECA, like any other normal day, when I ran

into my friend Tanisha. Tanisha was my partner-in-crime at DECA. We had almost every class

together and just had so much in common. I’ve known this girl since the first grade when we

found out we had the same middle name, so you already know that we had a strong sister-like

bond.

“Wait up, Relle!” she yelled over the loud chattering voices of the freshmen and

sophomores transitioning from Spanish I.

“Hurry up, Nish! We are going to be late for class. You know we only have two seconds

between classes to switch” I called out to her.

“Girl, I know! I’m trying to move as fast as I can but some people don’t know how to M-

O-V-E” she laughed as she pushed her way through a group of girls with really revealing

clothing on. “Yall need some sweaters and long jeans!”

“What’s up?” I asked Tanisha as she grabbed a hold of my delicate arm and started

dragging me toward Mr. Recker’s cubicle entrance. Now, you might be wondering why I didn’t

just say ‘door.’ Well, that’s because we barely had any of those. Our school wasn’t like the

typical, modern day high school. DECA was a one floor community of students and faculty in

one of UD’s prettiest campus buildings. We had small office cubicles for classrooms and tiny

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desks that we had to sit in daily. They were even tinier that college desks! That really sucked

considering that my legs are super long.

“Nothing much. Same old, same old. You know: come to school, play some hardcore

soccer, and fail Spanish II. LOL” she replied.

“Ohhh, don’t say that! You know that Español is one of my strongest subjects. I can help

you anytime boo!”

“LOL. Okay Relle, we’ll study together or something.”

“Sounds cool to me,” I said with a smile and a wink. We retreated to our seats right

before the bell caught us. We were in Mr. Recker’s Language Arts III class. Mr. Recker was one

of my favorite teachers from junior year. He made learning about the art of language and reading

boring novels fun. Going to his class gave me a little ounce of joy compared to the sorrow and

despair I felt throughout the rest of the day.

“Did everyone finish that reading and annotating assignment from last night or nah? If

nah, you’re in big trouble. I’m actually taking it for a grade today! Two whole points! Yay!” he

teased as he made his way to the front of his classroom. He was a very tall, athletically built man

in his mid 20s. His hair was blondish-brown, and it was always perfectly swooped to the left side

of his acne-free face. And, it seemed like every day he wore a nice pair of khaki dress pants, with

a brown leather belt and matching shoes. I could tell he loved dressing up because he always

seemed to look the part. That’s probably why I found it really weird when he strolled in on

“Casual Friday” with a yolo t-shirt instead of the usual collared polo styled shirt.

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I reached down into my champagne-colored book bag to grab my homework from the

night before so I could pass it to Lizbeth as she went around collecting papers for the teacher.

Lizbeth was one of the girls I had met upon arrival to DECA. Tanisha introduced us and from

then on, we just clicked. She was a short and stocky Mexican chick with black prescription

glasses, similar to mine at the time. Her hair was long and unbelievably curly, with bright blond

streaks mixed in with her naturally brown hair. Lizbeth was a really smart girl, but she

sometimes lacked commonsense and she was unaware of how rudely sarcastic she could be at

times. I loved her anyways, of course!

“Hey Relle, got ya homework?” she asked with a half smile.

“Yeah, hold on,” I answered while shifting through miscellaneous papers I had stashed in

the majority of my book bag. Usually, I was a very organized person. You could tell I was going

through it that day.

“I’ll come back, chica” Lizbeth said as she continued collecting everyone else’s papers.

I know I have it in here. I did it. Oh well, it’s only two stupid points anyways.

“Guys, let me have all of your attention. I want to spend these next few minutes

discussing something exciting really quickly. Then we’ll dive back into reading The Odyssey,”

Mr. Recker interrupted side conversations. He turned off the front lights and switched on the

projector. Up on the SmartBoard I could see a copy of a document with several words in

different fonts and sizes. Before it completely came into focus, I could only make out the words

of the title. Riverdale Optimist Club: Essay Contest.

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“So class, there is an opportunity to win some money that can be used for college. It is a

writing contest, so of course you would have to actually write in order to have a chance at

winning. If you are selected to be in the top three, you will then be invited to a luncheon hosted

by the club. If you are interested, please come see me sometime after class. Now take out your

reading packets and let us begin reading.”

After hearing about this opportunity, I decided that I would give it a try. I met up with

Mr. Recker at the end of the day and he gave me the contest requirements. The paper had to be

no more than 1000 words, in MLA format, and turned in to Mr. Recker within the next three

weeks. That sounded easy enough until I realized that there was a specific prompt we had to

write about: “How dreams lead to success.” Those five short words gave me so much anxiety. I

couldn’t figure out the right words to explain how my dreams could lead to my success. I didn’t

even believe that I had any dreams to talk about in the first place. I wasn’t motivated to continue

on with the paper, so I decided to just forget about it. I had way too much on my plate already

with all that gateway work and internship stuff. Besides, I wasn’t going to win anyways.

A little over two weeks had passed when Mr. Recker randomly came up to me in the

hallway while I was walking to my advisory.

“Hey Cherrelle, could I have a word with you for a minute?” he asked in his friendliest

tone of voice.

“Sure, I’m not doing anything right now,” I said. “What’s this about?”

“The essay contest. How’s your paper going? It’s due to me on Monday at 4 p.m. Do you

have any questions about it? Need any feedback?” he asked.

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“Uhhh, no. Actually, I’ve decided not to participate in the contest. I have so much to do,

and I can’t think of anything to write. I don’t want to waste my time writing a crappy paper.”

“Cherrelle, I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But I really suggest that

you at least try to come up with something. You’re really smart and you are a great writer. I

know for a fact that you can do it. Just try! Take the weekend to think about some ideas and just

flow with it.”

“Fine, I’ll consider it.”

“Thanks, Cherrelle! If it was legal, I’d bet all my money on you! Have a great rest of

your day.”

“You too, Lil’ Reck!”

If it wasn’t for this brief conversation, I probably would have never entered back into the

contest. Monday came around quick and as promised, I had a 1000 word essay complete for Mr.

Recker. He was very pleased.

Less than two weeks later, it was announced that the top three contestants were chosen

and they were all girls from our school. This was exciting news for us because we never had

more than one student at once from our school place in the top three. A record was broken that

day and to my surprise, I was also one of the lucky contestants chosen. I didn’t know how to feel.

I was so happy, yet very nervous. As stated by Mr. Recker, all three of us girls were invited to a

luncheon later on that week. We had to dress professionally and I was told that we were expected

to read our essays in front of a panel of judges. At that moment, my heart dropped. I was terribly

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shy and I wasn’t looking forward to performing in front of an audience. What if I messed up and

made myself look like a fool in front of everyone. My stomach was in knots.

On the day of the luncheon, I was called out of class to go to the office of the principal.

He handed me a copy of my essay and encouraged me to practice it in front of him. The first few

times, I stumbled on the words so bad that I started to cry. My principal reassured me that it was

okay to be nervous and that I should try it one more time. I wiped the tears from my eyes, took a

deep breath, and read that paper like there was no tomorrow. I could tell that he was amazed

because after I was done, he gave me a powerful applause and a look of approval. He told me

that I was going to do just fine and he wished me luck.

Around noon, the school transportation van hauled us over to the Masonic Temple for our

scheduled luncheon. Riding along with me was Lizbeth and another girl named Devine, the two

other contesters. We all sat beside each other in dead silence. I wondered what was going

through their minds at that time. I didn’t dare to ask because I didn’t want to break their focus.

We arrived at the center and checked in to the room we were supposed to be eating and

performing in. We all met with our family who were present at the closed event and ate lunch.

Then, a short man with grey hair and glasses came to the stage and started talking into the

microphone. He introduced the club’s members and called Devine up to the stage. She started

reading her essay. It was short and sweet. She spoke so clearly and she showed us that she had a

ton of confidence. Next was Lizbeth, and I just knew she would be amazing. She read her essay

with confidence as well, and she even memorized some of it! After that, I was sure that I was out

of the race. My essay did not even compare to either of their essays. It would be embarrassing to

read mine after those beautiful performances. But of course, there was no backing out now. I was

next.

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I slowly walked up to the stage and adjusted the microphone to match my height so that I

could speak into it. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and began to read the words I wrote in a

hurry the Sunday night before it was due to my teacher. My voice was low and shaky. I was

nervous and I was sure that everybody in the room could hear the pounding beats of my heart.

Five minutes passed and I had finally finished reading my paper without throwing up or crying. I

returned to my seat and everyone gave us all one last round of applause. The judge’s

representative came up to the podium with three crème-colored certificates in hand. She was

about to announce our rankings.

“In third place, Miss Devine Gober! Congrats, sweetie.” she squealed with excitement.

Devine walked up to accept her award and take her place on stage.

“Now for second place, Miss Lizbeth Negron. Good job! So you know what that means

right? Cherrelle Patrick, you are this year’s scholarship money winner! Come up and get your

prize!”

I could not believe my ears! I was the first place winner? I won the cash prize? My paper

was the best in all of Dayton? I walked up to the stage, hugged my competitors, and accepted my

award. Everyone clapped and cheered as I turned to face the audience. I had never won anything

big like this before. I didn’t know how to take it all in. When we returned to school, my principal

made an announcement over the intercom revealing the results of the contest. All of my friends

and fellow students came rushing to my side and started screaming and cheering for me.

Everyone was so proud of me and they wanted to read my essay. Mr. Recker winked at me

through the crowd and gave me two thumbs up. He was right. I was a pretty good writer, even

though I refused to believe it just a few weeks before. I had a hidden talent and I finally realized

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that I could use it to my advantage. It was “love at first write” for me when I won that contest. I

slowly began to believe in myself more after that experience and I really think that it had a strong

impact on which I have become. Today, I am more confident and I am comfortable when I am

writing. And, I am no longer afraid of not being good enough because deep down inside, I know

I am. Mr. Recker told me so!

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Notes:

Setting:

-DECA, cubicle classrooms, one floor building, UD campus

-loud chattering voices

-SmartBoard, projector, computers

-morning announcements

-Masonic Temple

-luncheon

-dress clothes

-microphones

Key People:

– Mr. Recker: tall, athletic built, funny, sarcastic, convincing, LA III teacher, loves to speak

in slang to connect to students, uses phrases like “or nah” in class, always dressed up

professionally, khaki pants and collared polo shirts, blondish-brown hair, neat, acne-free

face

– Lizbeth: Mexican girl, short, stocky, rude sometimes, lacks commonsense sometimes,

passionate speaker, friendly, long thick and curly hair, blonde highlights, confident,

wears glasses, great writer, great performer

– Tanisha: sarcastic/humorous, outspoken, fun, friendly, partner in crime, has same middle

name as me, wears glasses

– Devine: short, clear speaker, not shy at all, great writer, extremely confident, professional

– Principal Taylor: intimidating but nice, encouraging, proud, powerful, want his

acceptance and approval

– Me: nervous, tall, shy, quiet, doubtful at times, procrastinator, miserable, straight A

student, perfect attendance, easy at hiding emotions from the outside, slightly sarcastic,

etc.

What happened?

– Entered a writing contest

– Dropped out of contest due to fear and doubt

– Re-enters contest at the last minute as advised by my LA III teacher

– Top 3 contestants announced, I am one of the three

– Goes to a luncheon and recite essays

– Wins the contest

– Find’s “love at first write” and reflects on how my identity changes

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Narrative Essay Assignment

Write a 3-4 page essay (double-spaced, MLA format) describing a specific event in your life when you

felt like you experienced (or did NOT experience) some aspect of “The American Dream.” Remember to

consider the key elements of narrative writing when composing your essay.

Narrative Writing

Narration is, quite simply, storytelling. Human beings tell stories all the time; in fact, narration is

arguably the most important type of writing for you to master. In politics, for example, we often hear

about candidates “controlling the narrative.” Storytelling is compelling and persuasive. We love stories.

That Netflix show you binge on? Likely it has a riveting storyline.

In persuasive or argumentative writing, which we will explore later in the semester, narration can be

used to tug at the heartstrings of readers, to persuade them through real-life examples, or to frame

complex information in an understandable way for readers to connect to.

What are the elements of narrative writing?

1. Narration: basically, telling the story. Moving the story along from beginning to end.

2. Description: giving vivid physical and emotional descriptions; the setting.

3. Dialogue: capturing the real speech of people. In fictional stories or novels, this dialogue is a

creation of the author. In nonfiction, the author either has the exact words people have said or

has the creative license to recreate what people probably said, to the best of the writer’s

recollection.

4. Controlling Theme: this is the main, important idea or message of your narrative piece. This

doesn’t have to be explicitly stated in the paper, but it should be fairly easy for your audience to

understand. In sum, your narrative essay should have a clear point.