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Hadassah McGill Professor Camargo English 2100 25 Feb. 2013 WRC Writing Assignment Both of the times that I went to the writing center, I brought with me an academic work that I experienced a lot of trouble with for my English 1103 course: Accelerated Writing and Rhetoric. The assignment was a literacy essay in which we were to assess our surroundings and upbringing and share a story about how these things helped to develop and mold our literary skills. The first time I went into the writing center on February 11 th, 2013 I brought my first draft of this essay. The second time I went in on February 20th, 2013 I saw the same person I worked with the first time named Natalie and I brought in my second draft of my literacy essay. Initially, going into the writing center, I wanted help to try to figure out how to tie my thoughts into one cohesive assignment that had clarity and order, made sense and was above everything else, entertaining. I did not like my paper, I was very upset with how my writing sounded and I was mainly disappointed because I could not find interest in my own writing. My paper bothered me. I told my writing assistant my concerns and feelings about my paper and how I wanted my paper to be different than normal literacy essays. I explained to her that I really wanted my readers to clearly hear my voice and to understand my life from a perspective that represented my goals and desires. I tried to give my writing assistant a chance after vowing never to see the same one after my first attempt with her. But I figured it would only help me more if my assistant was familiar with my work and could tell me if I made any improvements. Two things I will give her credit for is remembering my essay and helping me catch my minor grammatical errors throughout my essay. Other than that I had a real issue with my assistant. I am always open for critique and criticism that will help me to become a better writer. I love for people to give me feedback, both positive and negative. I also love for people to be honest with me and not beat around the bush as an attempt to preserve my feelings. The problem with these particular sessions in the writing center was that my assistant kept trying to tell me how to write and what to write as if it were her own paper. She told me that I needed to learn how to write formally because I am now in a college setting and I cannot write how I talk and succeed in that manner. She even said that I rambled Which actually may have been true but it was her approach in telling me things that bothered me the most. I also felt that she kept talking to me as if she knew more than me and as if she were a better writer than me, despite the comments

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of approval of my overall essay. Normally, I would accept comments suited to guide and improve my writing, but in this case, I explained to her very nicely that my literacy essay was not supposed to be a formal piece and that the teacher basically said she did not want this to be like a normal class writing assignment. We were to write as though we were writing a work of fiction and our chosen audience would be able to relate with our writing by our tone, vernacular, and personality. By hearing MY VOICE After all, this is one of the things I asked her to focus on when entering into the session. I did not appreciate her condescending attitude as though my writing depicted some form of ignorance and lack of knowledge and understanding of how to write a professional piece. Needless to say, I did NOT have a good experience either time I went to the writing center. I took the grammatical suggestions and corrected some of them. I thought that she gave me good feedback when I asked her if I should switch a certain part of my essay around for clarity and continuity. I applied some of her suggestions of places where I could expand using more detail. But, for the most part, I took what she had to say with a grain of salt. Her input of what I should write and how I should write went in one ear and out of the other. I really wish I could go back and show her the letter grade A that I received on MY literacy paper, but I figured it would be no use. I guess what I took with me from this session is to take what you think is necessary to the success of your own paper and leave all the other information behind. Below are a few examples from my literacy essay that were included in my final draft entitled, Editing. My, Life!.
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The choices I make will strongly shape the events of my life. I can choose whether I am going to go to school and learn a trade along with a general education and be a successful business person. I can choose to live the life of The Godfather or the head of the Cosa Nostra (or the mistress Goomah/Goomar in my case, since I am a female). I can choose to be someones parent while I am still struggling to raise myself at a young age while still in school. Hell, I can even choose to be Godzilla and make my life into a scary fantasy. But the point is I still have to make a choice. I know that no matter what my ultimate dream is, I cannot attain success without first obtaining an education. So, I chose to chase my dreams through first learning how to read and write. Nevertheless, it is my cultural background, religious teachings, and strangely entertaining upbringing that have bolstered my insatiable love of reading to cause me to project my ideas and growing knowledge on others and correct everything I lay eyes on, ultimately creating my endearing passion for editing. The ratio of black to white in my classroom settings was always 1:25 and so I gained a competitive edge that could not be misconstrued. I wanted to be the best at whatever the best was and it was this competitive nature that sparked my interest in knowledge and education.

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Wealth wasnt just going to be handed to me, opportunities werent just going to be knocking at my door, and educational advancements werent going to be lurking on every street corner. Every single day I have to fight for what I want. I have to bite, scratch, scrape and kill if I ever stand a chance against anyone who has the same desires as me, the same dreams as me and the same aspirations as me, but, different skin color than me. I have to challenge myself to become better than my adversary: myself. This means that I have to study a day longer, read a little faster, sing a little louder, work a lot harder, strive to achieve greater. .. I quickly learned that being an African-American woman means more than just the surface difficulties or the challenges I face because of my skin color and my sex. It also means that people are watching more intently and more intimately to see if I mess up. One wrong decision, one bad step out of line, or avoiding what is supposed to be the black mans fate, would have my life going downhill quicker than sinking in quick sand. I chose to stay in line an follow a path that will lead me to success. I chose to read and reading was my way out. In my younger years, that even meant reading the Bible. .. I wanted badly to venture out and explore this new talent that I was being faced with and challenge myself to the best of the best in all that I did. I picked up the oddest things to read, it didnt even matter to me because all I wanted to do was show off the fact that I could read. And show off was exactly what I did. I read everything, everywhere, in the smallest of areas with the biggest voice I could establish. The world is full of possibilities, that, I knew for sure. I attempted to read the smallest of things in the smallest of forms, from the LOreal shampoo bottles instructions, when I wasnt screaming from getting my hair washed, to the Ramen noodle directions, when I was nosey trying to figure out what hidden surprises laid in the pantry for me, to The Lords Prayer written on a clock set shaped like praying hands that I recited almost every night before I went to bed. .. I even began listening to a lot of books on tape and on television, but the most interesting way I learned to read was simply by listening to my mothers voice. My mother was a sin ger. She sang a lot and she sang all the time. She would sing a book as she read it to me. I had never heard this before. It was the most interesting skill I couldve picked up from her. She loved to sing and I loved to hear her sing because she didnt have a raspy, irritating voice. She had a beautiful, melodic, and mellow singing voice which made story time all the more exciting. I loved to mimic my mothers skill and eventually I became good at it and started to sing my own stories. I would show off this newfound skill to my siblings and cousins and to my dad as he taught us girls how to defend ourselves with some basic kicks and punches. Everyone was captivated in how beautiful my voice was that they barely paid attention to my reading Sooner or later, reading became my favorite thing to do. Every time there was something that the teacher or Sunday school preacher needed help reading I would always squirm around in my chair and produce the biggest ruckus so that there was no mistaking my existence. I hooped and I hollered and I pouted when I wasnt chosen and then after a while my manipulative methods worked. More and more I was being called on by instructors to read this word, this sentence, this paragraph, this page, this chapter

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and eventually, this book to the class. As appreciative and excited I was that I had gained a knowledge and education that my race was not initially afforded, I slowly became annoying in that I wanted to correct people often to make sure that they knew that I knew that they were just wrong. My teachers and parents thought that it would be better to channel my snappy intelligence in a more positive direction and so editing became the path that I explored. . Each sign of growth in my education, each choice I have made, and each positive influence that surrounds my life have been a huge factor in my literary experiences ultimately prompting me for success in the field of editing. Had it not been for my cultural disadvantages, my religious teachings, and my musical interests, I would have never been so eager to try to venture out and explore the endless possibilities of success that awaited an intelligent, African-American, woman like myself. I guess my being different set me up for an opportunity to choose the path that would allow my dreams of becoming an editor to be one step closer to coming true! I now understand the significance of a rainbow appearing after a long period of rain, because my learning to read is demonstrative of a brighter day in the life and times of African-American women aspiring to be an editor. .

I worked at the Writing Center at my previous university before I came here, so I had an idea of what to expect, or at least I thought I did. I figured the assistant would help me to establish my voice, not by giving me words or telling me how s/he thought I should write, but instead by helping me to pull it out of myself. That was not exactly my experience when entering into the writing center. This left me with a large sense of disappointment followed by the anger of this young lady saying I needed to learn how to write a certain way not knowing what writing skills I have developed or what knowledge of writing I am already aware of. It was very presumptuous of her to assert that comment of me into our session. I cannot, however, assert my feelings of this particular assistant on the writing center as a whole. It is a strong possibility that I will return, because as I mentioned before, I love having help form an openminded outsider. I will just try to stay away from having help from the same person. I did, however, appreciate having the assignment to attend a session because it made me aware of how schools do things differently.