Why I Write
At the beginning of this semester, Dr. Stenberg, the professor of my English class - Writing literacy - asked us to write a literacy narrative to introduce our literacy. I started recalling my literacy history and my experiences since I came to here studying. I found it's really inspired that looking back to some works you've done. You would find a grateful growing process, which might motivate you to become better and better in the future. Here is a part of my literacy narrative I wrote that briefly described how my love for literary or writing, specifically, was developed.
“This is a beautiful essay, and by far the most well-written piece you’ve given me.” Dr. Ramsay commented on my last essay for his class. I took his Intro to Literature class in the second year here. I didn’t know that it could help me so much. However, at the beginning of that semester, I thought the opposite. “Well, that will be a long semester.” When I stood in the bookstore, and in front of the 2700 -pages textbook we would use for that semester, I might see my future-self. “If you want to be a good writer, you have to read a lot.” I still remember those words he said. Yes, I’ve always wanted to be a good writer for a long time, so long that I’ve forgotten since when. It might be the middle school when the teachers started teaching us the literary appreciation ability.
When I started learning my language, reading was one of the ways to help me learn this world. Most of the Chinese children started their language learning from ancient poetries, so did I. the first poem my grandparents taught me probably was Ode to the Geese written by poet Luo Binwang in Tong Dynasty. (Actually, this probably was the first one every Chinese kid learned.) The poem is translated into English reads, “Goose! Goose! Goose! With a long crooked neck singing to the sky. Floating on green water by feathers in white, with red-webbed feet stirring in blue dye”. It’s a very simple poem, but it’s the enlightened reading material for me. China, as a country with civilization over five thousand years, the language is profound and complex. One word could have a lot of meanings at different times. Moreover, the different combination and organization of the same words could also mean differently. I think my love for literary was planted in my heart at that time.
As time went on, I attended school. Unlike what we learned in our family, schools taught us to understand the deeper meaning of reading materials. Taking the poem Ode to the Geese as an example. When they teach us an ancient poem, teachers would always describe the picture of what the poem was saying, and analyze what the author was thinking and his/ her emotion at that moment. Luo Binwang was only seven years old when he wrote this poem. When he saw geese swimming in the lake, their beautiful appearance and graceful movement as what he described in the poem, attracted him. So he wrote that poem to remember that scene and express his affection of the geese. Because of the barriers between different languages, I couldn’t show the aesthetics of Chinese poetry. But, I became addicted to the aesthetics and its profundity and wondered if I could also write my amazing works someday. Then I started reading and feeling the aesthetics it brought me.
When I was in fourth grade, my teacher asked us to write an essay to describe the most impressive place in our life. Since I spent most of my childhood in my grandparents’ house, I wrote it. They owned a courtyard in front of their house. Even after more than ten years, the scene still exists clearly in my mind. My grandma planted many fruit trees and flowers in the yard. Whenever the harvest season came, the yard would be like a colorful painting. An eyeful of green with red hawthorn, orange persimmon, apricots, strawberries, and purple grapes hidden in the leaves. I always thought that it was the best scene I’ve ever seen. Because of my passion for that yard, when I wrote that essay, I put all my emotions into it and used all the beautiful word I learned. “Xinyue, you did excellent work. You have potential, and I think you should keep it, you can write more good works.” My teacher said to me after she read the essay. I was so proud of myself, and since then, writing started becoming a part of my life, my blood.
Like many other teenage girls, fantasy was one of the themes of my adolescence. Writing my imagination and dreams was my favorite activity. I like dreaming because I think dreams could always inspire my writing. Sometimes, the dream would not make sense. Fortunately, my reading habit helped me a lot. I could compose various vivid scenes. But I’ve never shown others what I wrote. Writing for me, was just an entertainment and a way to fly my imagination at that time. Besides, the pressure from school becoming heavier, and I had to prepare for coming to the United States, I didn’t have too much time for my creative writing. I felt like that it was like an abandoned doll sitting in the corner of my heart, and waiting for me notice it again.
However, the difficulties and conflicts I encountered in the first year I came here kept me from my writing. But it was also the challenge I met in my class allowed writing to come back to my life again. That would go back to the first English class I mentioned last time. Because I was struggling with the conflicts between the different cultures, I didn’t know that an opportunity was waiting for me.
That was a creative adaptation assignment. The professor asked us to adapt one or two of the poems in the book At the Drive-In Volcano that we read. I felt like that the cloud surrounding me was cleared, and a beam of sunshine glistened down on me. Although I’ve never written a real paper in English before, my experiences and skills I learned from China made it easier for me. It was a winter when I took that class, and there was a severe snow storm happening. So I connected the real life with two poems, and composed a dairy like paper, in which I pretended that I was the author, and wrote the background stories behind the poems she wrote (I would revise that project and post it later). That was something I was good at. I really enjoyed the writing process, although sometimes I have to struggle with the word choice (because of the complexity of language, it’s always hard for me to choose the best words and composition to create the most beautiful sentences). I wanted to do my best, to prove myself, because it was the only thing I could be proud of at that time.
Writing for me is a painful but enjoyable practice. Because of the language barrier, and the lack of inspiration, it could always happen that I couldn’t write down a single word the whole night or what I wrote could not make sense. My roommate always looked at me with sympathy at night. She just saw the pains that writing brought to me, but didn’t know that I enjoyed every moment when I was composing a piece. Thankfully, I got a gratifying grade on that paper. And the most important thing is that it helped me find the best way to express and prove myself.
When I looked at the first paper I wrote, I found that there were many errors because of the language. But, thankfully Dr. Menting didn't care about them, which allowed me to develop my confidence. I really appreciated these professors I've met and the classes I've taken. I know that more challenges are waiting for me and I will meet more people, who would teach me more life philosophies. I know I would become better and better, and I would always look forward to meeting them with thankfulness.
“This is a beautiful essay, and by far the most well-written piece you’ve given me.” Dr. Ramsay commented on my last essay for his class. I took his Intro to Literature class in the second year here. I didn’t know that it could help me so much. However, at the beginning of that semester, I thought the opposite. “Well, that will be a long semester.” When I stood in the bookstore, and in front of the 2700 -pages textbook we would use for that semester, I might see my future-self. “If you want to be a good writer, you have to read a lot.” I still remember those words he said. Yes, I’ve always wanted to be a good writer for a long time, so long that I’ve forgotten since when. It might be the middle school when the teachers started teaching us the literary appreciation ability.
When I started learning my language, reading was one of the ways to help me learn this world. Most of the Chinese children started their language learning from ancient poetries, so did I. the first poem my grandparents taught me probably was Ode to the Geese written by poet Luo Binwang in Tong Dynasty. (Actually, this probably was the first one every Chinese kid learned.) The poem is translated into English reads, “Goose! Goose! Goose! With a long crooked neck singing to the sky. Floating on green water by feathers in white, with red-webbed feet stirring in blue dye”. It’s a very simple poem, but it’s the enlightened reading material for me. China, as a country with civilization over five thousand years, the language is profound and complex. One word could have a lot of meanings at different times. Moreover, the different combination and organization of the same words could also mean differently. I think my love for literary was planted in my heart at that time.
As time went on, I attended school. Unlike what we learned in our family, schools taught us to understand the deeper meaning of reading materials. Taking the poem Ode to the Geese as an example. When they teach us an ancient poem, teachers would always describe the picture of what the poem was saying, and analyze what the author was thinking and his/ her emotion at that moment. Luo Binwang was only seven years old when he wrote this poem. When he saw geese swimming in the lake, their beautiful appearance and graceful movement as what he described in the poem, attracted him. So he wrote that poem to remember that scene and express his affection of the geese. Because of the barriers between different languages, I couldn’t show the aesthetics of Chinese poetry. But, I became addicted to the aesthetics and its profundity and wondered if I could also write my amazing works someday. Then I started reading and feeling the aesthetics it brought me.
When I was in fourth grade, my teacher asked us to write an essay to describe the most impressive place in our life. Since I spent most of my childhood in my grandparents’ house, I wrote it. They owned a courtyard in front of their house. Even after more than ten years, the scene still exists clearly in my mind. My grandma planted many fruit trees and flowers in the yard. Whenever the harvest season came, the yard would be like a colorful painting. An eyeful of green with red hawthorn, orange persimmon, apricots, strawberries, and purple grapes hidden in the leaves. I always thought that it was the best scene I’ve ever seen. Because of my passion for that yard, when I wrote that essay, I put all my emotions into it and used all the beautiful word I learned. “Xinyue, you did excellent work. You have potential, and I think you should keep it, you can write more good works.” My teacher said to me after she read the essay. I was so proud of myself, and since then, writing started becoming a part of my life, my blood.
Like many other teenage girls, fantasy was one of the themes of my adolescence. Writing my imagination and dreams was my favorite activity. I like dreaming because I think dreams could always inspire my writing. Sometimes, the dream would not make sense. Fortunately, my reading habit helped me a lot. I could compose various vivid scenes. But I’ve never shown others what I wrote. Writing for me, was just an entertainment and a way to fly my imagination at that time. Besides, the pressure from school becoming heavier, and I had to prepare for coming to the United States, I didn’t have too much time for my creative writing. I felt like that it was like an abandoned doll sitting in the corner of my heart, and waiting for me notice it again.
However, the difficulties and conflicts I encountered in the first year I came here kept me from my writing. But it was also the challenge I met in my class allowed writing to come back to my life again. That would go back to the first English class I mentioned last time. Because I was struggling with the conflicts between the different cultures, I didn’t know that an opportunity was waiting for me.
That was a creative adaptation assignment. The professor asked us to adapt one or two of the poems in the book At the Drive-In Volcano that we read. I felt like that the cloud surrounding me was cleared, and a beam of sunshine glistened down on me. Although I’ve never written a real paper in English before, my experiences and skills I learned from China made it easier for me. It was a winter when I took that class, and there was a severe snow storm happening. So I connected the real life with two poems, and composed a dairy like paper, in which I pretended that I was the author, and wrote the background stories behind the poems she wrote (I would revise that project and post it later). That was something I was good at. I really enjoyed the writing process, although sometimes I have to struggle with the word choice (because of the complexity of language, it’s always hard for me to choose the best words and composition to create the most beautiful sentences). I wanted to do my best, to prove myself, because it was the only thing I could be proud of at that time.
Writing for me is a painful but enjoyable practice. Because of the language barrier, and the lack of inspiration, it could always happen that I couldn’t write down a single word the whole night or what I wrote could not make sense. My roommate always looked at me with sympathy at night. She just saw the pains that writing brought to me, but didn’t know that I enjoyed every moment when I was composing a piece. Thankfully, I got a gratifying grade on that paper. And the most important thing is that it helped me find the best way to express and prove myself.
When I looked at the first paper I wrote, I found that there were many errors because of the language. But, thankfully Dr. Menting didn't care about them, which allowed me to develop my confidence. I really appreciated these professors I've met and the classes I've taken. I know that more challenges are waiting for me and I will meet more people, who would teach me more life philosophies. I know I would become better and better, and I would always look forward to meeting them with thankfulness.
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