I don’t think I ever wanted to be a writer: My experience with writing I walk into my bright, and decorative bedroom after a long, and tiring day of school.
Turning on the lights, I steer towards my dresser set to retrieve my previously sharpened pencil and partially filled notebook. I find myself sitting on my fuschia papasan chair. With my notebook in my hand, I slowly open it to reveal a fresh clean sheet of paper. With peace and inspiration filling my mind, body, and soul, I begin to fill its pages with tried attempts of poetry and eventful situations of my day.Order now
A smile forms onto my lips as I stare at it. Writing about myself and experiences was all I knew. For days my English 12 class went by in a breeze. We were instructed to use Khan Academy, to learn something new. This site contained valuable information on a variety of topics.
My English 12 teacher, began to explain that there was a method to his madness as far as the Khan Academy website. frustrations filled me from the top of my head to the very tip of my toes. I sat in my familiar seat at a table in the front of the classroom with my twin sister and a familiar associate with my laptop in my hand. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed with intense feelings of anxiety and lack of motivation as my facilitator continued by informing the class about how not only were we required to write an essay that was due in a few weeks from that day, but also another that was due before we could graduate. He began handing out sheets…