A letter to my high school English teachers
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A letter to my high school English teachers

I owe it all to them.

A letter to my high school English teachers

Writing has always been something I've been decent at, but it hasn't always been something I've enjoyed. I owe the writing passion that grew within me to two of my high school English teachers.

In my high school, the teacher that you have for English freshman year is also the teacher that you have junior year, and the teacher that you have for English sophomore year is also the teacher that you have senior year. So essentially each year you flip back and forth between the two.

Going into Freshman English, I hated writing. I only wrote when it was absolutely necessary of me for class. Little did I know, freshman year was going to be the year that all changed. My English teacher at the time was all about feelings. Her class was based upon how you felt about certain topics, readings, and even events that were occurring within your own life. Being someone who hates talking about my feelings and opening up to people, I dreaded this class for the first few weeks.

After a few weeks, I started to warm up to the idea. I had a lot of things going on in my life at the time, and I decided to use that class as a way of letting everything that was building up inside of me, out. I started putting everything that was on my mind on paper. The class that I dreaded at the beginning of the year, very shortly became one of my favorite classes that I've taken still to this day.

Sophomore year, my Honors English class flipped, and we had the other high school English teacher that teaches at Bad Axe High. Her class was very different than the previous. Her class was more proper and focused on the mechanics and characteristics of writing. After really finding my love of writing freshman year, I enjoyed this class to no end. I have a tendency to be a slight perfectionist when it comes to certain things. Writing is one of those things, and sophomore year taught me a lot.

Junior year meant back to the teacher that I had freshman year. As you can imagine, I was quite thrilled to be back. By junior year I'd been through the divorce of my mom and step dad and was living in my grandparents house, so I had more than enough to release through writing.

Senior year our Honors English class became the AP English class, and our focus was essays. LOTS AND LOTS OF ESSAYS. I think I can speak for the entire class and say we dreaded it! Three days a week we were writing essays. By the second marking period, we were trained to sit down, read and analyze the passages given to us, and come up with a four to five paragraph essay with solid support and evidence. By the end of the year, I was capable of writing a solid essay in a time span of 30 minutes.

As I sat down in May at a computer lab in Dearborn to take my English placement exam, I felt my stomach drop. Nervousness overtook my body while I waited to see what exactly was expected of me for the exam. Ten minutes later, I found myself with a passage in front of me, and a writing prompt. No more than half an hour later, I was printing a solid three page essay preparing to turn it in before anyone around me had even begun to write. A few weeks later, I received my exam results, and was placed into the more advanced class.

I owe both my love of writing, and the progress that my writing has experienced to both of my high school English teachers. The two of them together changed my life, and in doing so they brought my love of writing to life. I'll never forget all they taught me, and I'll never not be grateful.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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