Professor Clark                                                                                                                                                                    Aaron King

October 22, 2019

Literacy Narrative: Writing Reimagined

            As the pain in my fingers burned deep into my forearm, my name and the date etched their ways into the piece of paper, and subsequently, the table below it. From first grade through high school, writing was something that I did only out of great necessity. Just as my handwriting style was cramped, so was my imagination. The idea that repulsed me the most, though, was writing about someone else’s work. These ideas, however, were subject to change.

            First of all, writing was a painful process for me. When my concentration level rose, so did the pressure beneath the tip of my pen. I would crush out words, sentences, even paragraphs in colored braille. Many attempts made to correct my form, using rubber pen-holders and even a foam layer beneath the page, but all to no avail. The only visible change this brought about was a paper filled with holes. Thus, writing, in general, became an imposition. Much to the chagrin of my teachers and parents, I lost all resolve to initiate the flow of consciousness from my mind to the paper. Most of the assignments were excessively structured so that there was only one correct conclusion. Moreover, I believed that the dissected analysis of written work was one of the most deplorable steps that could be taken towards that piece of literature. To endeavor into the heart of an author’s work and categorize its every step stripped that work of its uniqueness and beauty. All this I thought until an English class in high school changed my perspective completely.

            As I sat down on the first day of class, I was thinking, “Another hellish year of mind-numbing, English literature where we will proceed to heartlessly scrutinize the ‘Great American Classics’, only to suck out the very breath that their authors blew so tenderly into them.” A summons from the front of the classroom dragged my attention from my spinning thoughts. The man whose voice had issued forth the invitation would indelibly change my perception of writing and literature. Mr. Ken introduced me to a profound understanding of the purpose of writing and subsequently, what I, the reader, must do to fully comprehend the authors’ philosophies.

            The revelation did not come immediately, though. I initially disregarded this opportunity, for, in my mind, nothing set this class apart from previous English classes, none of which had left any lasting value with me. After reading a couple of novels, Mr. Ken advised me to change my writing style. Instead of analyzing the book and dissecting each page, I should not only evaluate the complete work to deduce what the author intended to convey but do so through multiple lenses to gain a perspective for why the author made a certain argument or even wrote the book. With time came change; slow, but steady. At first, the idea seemed absurd and the motive, ambiguous. However, I eventually realized that presenting this idea as an open assignment where I was able to assess the work as a whole, where every characteristic of the story painted a single, magnificent collage, enabled me to break free from the iron-structured format I had been instructed to use for previous assignments. This new approach encouraged me to investigate the authors’ intentions in writing the story. Although not fully convinced by this new method, I reveled in the freedom of expression.

             Now empowered to communicate my thoughts, I slowly began to enjoy writing and literature. As I read more books, I understood a deeper motivation behind the authors’ writings and found that, often, their works revealed something in me that I did not know about myself; I found another side of me I did not know existed. My assessments of the authors’ writings gradually moved from a stagnant analysis to a colorful interpretation. Reading became entertainment instead of an assignment, and I was finally able to appreciate literature. No longer did I spend the day dreading the assignment to discover the ideals hidden in a story, but I saw it as a challenge to disclose the author’s very nature. The saying, “You write what you are” came alive, and I was able to apply it to my own life.

            Although I still wrote on paper, and my hand grew tired from the long hours spent carefully developing masterpieces, there was a new inspiration in my assignments, a profound revelation that I could now express anything through my writing. I created new worlds in which my imagination could thrive, so I did not mind the ache in my arm. With the assignments open-ended, I had the freedom to express my unique elucidations of literature and discover characteristics about myself that were previously obscure. I am forever indebted to Mr. Ken for the invaluable lessons he taught me, not only about writing but about myself and what I am capable of.