1.) A Clearly Identified Event: What happened? Who was involved?
Teachers are the door ways to certain forms of education. They are the ones who will either make us find a passion in a subject, or make the subdject something to dread about. What happened was that one of my earliest teachers disturbed a part of writing for me, and ever since that moment I've always looked at written work with relentless doubt. What happened was a woman by the name of Ms. Roberson somewhat of an english, or perhaps spelling teacher for me. For you see at the time writing out sentences was slightly difficult, but somehow reading numbers was easy. Continuing, I was practicing my spelling one day, and I was having a difficult time trying to spell words from memory. I tried to seek help from Ms. Robinson, but she snapped at me instead, and told me to do it till I got it all right. Not to tell the entire story, but what had happened had crushed my confidence in my abilities to write.
2.) A Clearly Described Setting: When and where did it happen?
I want to say it happened in early September of 2002. The sun was beatingly bright upon Brookwood Elementary in Virginia Beach, Virginia. The school itself was one-story, composed of bricks, a parking lot, and faced the outlet mall across Lynnhaven Rd.
The events however took place in a pale shampan colored like portalible surrounded by the structure.
Inside the walls were painted the color of wheat with desks scattered around to form the shape of a lope-sided circle, and a larger desk in the far right corner of the room.
3.)Vivid, Descriptive Details: What makes the story come alive?
I'll be describing what atmosphere the room carried with the teacher, and students. Providing details on my thoughts at the time, the teachers somewhat cruel directness that day, and what the toll was from that moment on.
4.) A Consistent Point of View: Who's telling the story?
The story will be told by what I experienced, and how I am able to remember it.
5.) A Clear Point: Why does the story matter?
I can't provide a clear answer for this, but I want to say it's to make clear of something to myself, and to others. Truth is I have a love/hate sort of relationship when it comes to writing. It's just in this particular time in my life when I was being introduced to the concept of it I was shattered. It was the first time I really felt like I failed myself, and had had felt shame for being useless at that moment. This story matters to me because reveals my harsh beginnings with the forming of words into sentences, and how some of those events still have an effect on writing with me today.
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