Sophie Hassell

Professor Jizi
University Writing 1103
9 September 2015
A Retrospect of Reading and Writing as Told by a College Student
Learning to read was an exciting moment in my life. My mother, a literacy educator,
began teaching me how to read when I was very young. A new world was opened for me, one
that brought me a grand collection of wild fiction. I was quickly captivated, reading at every
moment I could, seeking out new stories as I finished the old. Writing began like such. I was
intrigued by the fact I could mimic the words of the books stacked upon my shelf. But, writing
was slower paced; multiple years of elementary school were spent tracing over the scripted
letters and learning the correct placement of different vowels. I was quickly bored, eager to know
all but inattentive to learn.
Third grade was an exciting year in that our writing was developed enough to create our own
works of literature. A book was created with my class's writing; a collection of our crazy
imaginations of desert animals. I remember the thrill of creating a short story about a Bobcat
named Bob and how liberating it felt knowing I had written my own piece of fiction. Life was
complete at this moment knowing there were no limitations on what I could read and write.
Sadly, my third grade self was wrong. While learning to read and write, we are taught to
freely express ourselves as we were opened to a world of imagination. But, as I ascended each
grade level my imagination was crushed and strict rules were put into place. Growing up in New
Jersey, a standardized test, called the NJASK, mangled the very embodiment of what it meant to
read and write. English classes revolved around practicing for this test, reviewing how read and

write for a perfect score in a limited amount of time. There were still little glimpses of freedom
in the literary world, until such was completed thwarted as I progressed into middle school and
eventually high school.
Middle school presented a new challenge, continuing to read freely while other classes
proposed homework. At this point my free reading and writing were limited to the days of not a
lot of homework and the weekends. The books proposed in the English classes were still
captivating (I will admit I read some of my favorite books in my middle school English classes),
but introduced the idea that my readings would be chosen from now on. To make things worse,
assignments had to be done based upon a scheduled reading chart. When I read, stopping to
vaguely annotate what I think the teacher would agree with, broke up the rhythm of continual
reading I had once loved. By the end of eighth grade my free reading was minimal, but at least I
had read the assigned books for class.
Next came high school. Harder classes were introduced into my daily schedule and I
spent my nights with textbooks writing down vocabulary definitions. The dreadful five paragraph
essay formula was introduced and my imagination was walking out the door. Freshman year we
were handed two huge epics, The Odyssey and Black Boy and were assigned set dates to have
chunks of the books read. The first few due dates I kept up with the heavy reading, but soon I
began to slip. I no longer had time to do the assigned readings and the assigned homework,
instead I choose to spend my late nights studying or completing major assignments for other
classes. This pattern continued for the rest of the year, for the first time I never finished any
assigned readings.
While this exhausted my mind, the five paragraph essay put it to sleep. The repetitive
form became second nature to me; I always joked that I could write a five paragraph essay in my

sleep for the hundreds I had completed by the end of senior year. Hours would be spent trying to
find an intriguing hook or perfecting the ever so important thesis statement. The three body
paragraphs would repeat the same format including a topic sentence and finishing with the
concluding statement. Let's not forget to never begin the conclusion paragraph with "In
conclusion...." Freedom was stripped away and my mind became of robot of "educational"
thinking. The scary part this is that I was unaware of the imagination I had lost, that is until this
creative writing course. The class stumped me. I could not complete many of the assignments
because there was no topic or way to structure the ideas; the writing was completely up to the
individual. It was at this point I changed, snapping right out of the rigid mindset I was stuck in
for so long. I began to read the books assigned, finding enjoyment in many, while taking more
creative risks in many of my papers. I found loop holes around having to continue on the
structured path.
Today, I can reflect back on my years of experiences with reading and writing and be
gland such is over. But, my reading and writing mindset are developed to conform to structure as
well as to work on going outside the box. I do not believe education and creativity have to be
separate. Students should be able to embody their personalities into what they are reading and
writing, not solely what an educator commands them to. Only recently have I started free reading
and writing again, balancing my education with entertainment. I am no longer appalled by the
idea of picking up a book or writing for myself instead of a class. My past experiences have
returned me to the child who was eager to read and write with no limitations. By doing such I am
able to find more connections between pieces of literature and have developed a broader scale of
genres and topics both educationally and leisurely.