I tell myself, “you should be outside enjoying the sunshine,” but I realize that my dreaded reflection paper for English Grammar, is due in just eight hours. The pain of facing another all-nighter hits me square in the face. Why did I keep procrastinating when I was only too-well acquainted with the insalubrious effects, and fallout that regret would bring me? What a drag. But I knew I had to get it done. Sure, I wanted to be a great writer and impress my instructor with all the proper grammar I had learned. I felt pretty confident with perfect period and comma placement, but that is about as far as it went. I turned on my green-glass-and-brass study lamp, sighed, and forced my legs to move in the direction of my desk. This essay reflects upon my personal experience in coming to terms with an episode in my literary development, showing how my literacy gained from one part of my life, contributed in my achievement of a goal.
My instructor had mentioned that the English Grammar Department always held high standards. Well, I knew I could kiss the thought good-bye of writing the best essay, because I did not aspire to be a writer at all. My sights were set upon a career in ornithology. Yes I know, the idea, notion, and word is strange to the ear: Ornithology. But, having grown up in the beautiful mountainside area of Florida, I had developed a pattern of rising early in the morning for a short hike to my favorite stream and back, before shoving off to work.
Sitting at my desk, feeling like groaning, I reviewed the elements and strategies that could help me write out my thoughts clearly. I knew that if I could not make myself clearly understood, that even the most memorable personal experience could not effectively be communicated to my audience of readers – in this case – my instructor, who would judge how worthy my literary effort was. I began to think very hard about what interested me about the social problems in the world. Thinking about why governments have certain policies, or world starvation in Africa, seemed too big and wide. In other words, even though I knew English Grammar explores people’s situations of hunger and the outcome of state politics in their lives was important, the general topic seemed almost overwhelming. So, I had to get serious with myself and be honest. What interested me? What could I write about that would not only feel sincere, but express a natural curiosity and concern over an issue of which I felt strongly? Then, I finally got it!
I had no idea how deeply volunteering at the St. Jude’s Hospital for Children would affect me. But I distinctly remember that day, as if it were yesterday. I had no clue as to how important a person’s eyesight affects every area of life, until I interacted with all those cancer kids. Looking back, I began to remember. And as I dusted off my dictionary, I took out a blank sheet of paper and pen to begin to explain how devastating the lives of individuals can be when they are so young with cancer. The difficulties that children had to face, just starting out in life while not having their eyesight, was hard to imagine. So, I went online to look for tips on how useful it is to be honest and forthright when writing a memoir, or non-fictional narrative in the first place. In a way, it felt awkward that my English Grammar teacher wanted us to write a personal memoir because the professors usually drummed it into our heads to never write in the first-person, using “I.” But I guess this was different, since the best essays would result in a grand prize of studying overseas. Second prize was a $1,000 book scholarship, and the third- place winning spot could get a $200 gift certificate to Starbucks. I guess the higher-ups in the educational system saw the value of drinking coffee, when we are half brain-dead from trying to party and keep up grades at the same time.
But this time was different. I had been thinking more seriously about life. My family had recently dealt with financial issues, and it was terrible for a while. And all I could do for six months was to wonder whether or not we might lose our family home one day. I guess I was not thinking too clearly. But my family’s house is really quaint and simple, but beautiful. We were not rich. I was always encouraged to cultivate good writing skills, because I was told it would help me later in life. “Read and write as often as you can,” my dad would say. A burst of cherry-red color graced the petals of this one. All of a sudden it hit me! I did not always strive for excellence, but the desire grew in me. Even if I was not the best writer, and my essay did not win, I could at least pay close attention to my grammar, spelling, sentence structure, and attempting to let my spirit and ideas connect with real people.
So, I made sure that my words were spelled correctly. The weird thing was I did not even work with my computer on. For some reason, I was inspired by my family’s legacy of hard work and determination. So, I had shut my computer off and reached up to get her old Webster’s dictionary off the shelf. I figured that basic words and spellings had not really changed that much. It all began to come back to me. The memories seemed to jump out of my head and heart, all at once. I had been feeling a little depressed because I had broken up with my friend, and just flunked chemistry – all in the same day. St. Jude’s Hospital for Children is close to my area, and was in fact, just across the street from my college. I wandered over, walked inside, and approached the desk to find out about what they do. One thing led to another, and I found myself asking how to volunteer. There was a big gymnasium-type room where all the kids would sit in a huge circle. My job was to sit there with them, and lead them in some fun songs. It was great! I will never forget the feeling of gratitude I felt in being able to be a part of their world, and make a tiny difference in their lives.
In conclusion, I do not think myself capable of winning first or second prize for my literary ability, but I know I have improved. But I knew that I had reached a new level in my literary ability and skills. I felt better, and more relaxed, so I went to Starbucks. I came to the revelation that decent writing skills could actually help my goals of being an ornithologist. Birdwatching, in a scientific way, meant that I would need to document all my observations in addition to taking photographs of my natural subjects. I had learned to improve my writing, but most importantly, to me I had reached out to grasp a new maturity within myself. I knew in my heart, that I would never see life and writing the same way again. My experience taught me a profound lesson after all.
References
The Electric Typewriter. (2015). 30 great short memoir essays [Data file]. Retrieved from
http://tetw.org/Memoir
