Growing up, I was always talented in every aspect of education. I did well in math and English, and excelled in science and social studies. Grades were an integral part of my life, and my education was something I held very dear to me. Once I got to high school, though, I noticed where my strengths and weaknesses were. It wasn’t in the way that I found the derivative of an equation that made me talented, but it was the way in which I crafted my essays and made my ideas flow in perfect harmony that made people say, “Wow.” I learned that I was a writer. I was a writer when my other friends weren’t. I was exceptionally great in subjects like grammar and sentence structure and literary tools, where others shared their greatness through slopes and cosines and tangents. I was a writer.

Now, I carried myself in a way that let people know I was always confident in my writing, and I made sure people knew how well my words flew across a page. My work was best reflected when I wrote about things I was passionate about and things I had experience of. However, I still managed to pull 9s out of my AP history class during our weekly essays. Of course I could, I thought. I’m an incredible writer. No need for criticism, no need for revision. I just wrote and submitted.

When I got to college, my roommate would ask me to proofread her papers for her college writing class. I never really paid any mind to proofreading and I never did it myself unless instructed to. When she asked, I found it so different; she took my criticism, changed her wording, and got a better grade on it than she would’ve. Obviously shocked, I went to class and realized that I could do the same thing on my papers. Peer review, drafting, and conferences were all there, at my command, ready to help me progress as a writer.

Walking into all these resources at once was very daunting for me. I didn’t see the point in coming into class every other day with a new draft to hand in. I felt like I could just as easily write a paper two hours before it was due and I would still end up with the same praise; my cocky instincts took over. Even though I was slightly annoyed that the writing process was starting off slowly, I obliged to my instructions. I wrote each draft, went to class, and sat in peer review. As I would read my paper aloud, my peers would give their insight as to what in my papers were unclear and what I made a little too obvious. They guided me through my transitions, pointing out the ones that were choppy and praising me when I made them flow well. It was so nice to have a fresh pair of eyes to see what I became blind to, and to have a chance to fix my mistakes before I turned in a final draft. Each unit paid off; I received multiple As as a result of this constructive criticism.

Even one-on-one conferences with my teacher helped greatly; I had a verbal cheat sheet for what my instructor was going to look for when I was really graded. I came to love taking advantage of my teacher’s conference hours, and I yearned to know what I could do to improve how I got my points across. It was incredible to get so many ideas and so many different brains working on the same piece to benefit me. My teacher, during these conferences, helped me steer away from the rules drilled in my head in high school, just like my high school teachers helped me steer away from the five-paragraph essay drilled in my head in middle school. With these new lessons and allowances, I felt like a brand new writer.

I never knew revision was an important aspect of writing. I always thought it was mediocre, and a waste of time. I was a good enough writer that I didn’t need to proofread or change anything about my essays. Once in college writing, however, I was taught that there’s always room for improvement. It was extremely humbling. For this class, I was forced to get off my high horse and recognize myself as not only a writer, but a learner and a student as well. I think it was important for me and others to be able to take that vulnerability and put it to good use, especially right off the bat with my class’s Unit 1: “Contexts that Make Me.” Choosing to write about my hometown was never harder, especially during the revision process. People would make suggestions that I did not like and initially felt defensive about. However, my peers and I had to understand that constructive criticism was the only way our writing could improve, and it had to start with how we viewed ourselves.

Writing is such a personal experience. It is a very explicit way of expressing oneself, and most writers have a hard time accepting criticism. In college writing, I found it much easier to accept this criticism constructively through the revision process, and it helped me notice mistakes that I couldn’t have noticed after several glances. Revision gave me fresh eyes and a second chance, and this experience is something I will continue to take with me throughout the rest of my journalistic career.

Now, as I embark on a new journey, being granted a position as contributing editor for The Odyssey at UMass Amherst, I am even more responsible for the revision tactics I learned in my college writing class. I am incredibly humbled by the opportunity to exercise the same editing skills I developed, and I am even more excited to instill those same skills in writers I meet in the future. I have the opportunity to be not only a writer, but a helper, and that is something I will always cherish.