Surphlis1 Literacy narrative draft

In my literacy journey I have always experienced some sort of discomfort while writing for a teacher. I am constantly thinking about how its not going to be good enough, or the teacher is not going to like the way I wrote something. It doesnt help either that I know I am not the best writer. However, I do not experience anxiety when I am writing for myself; sometimes in my free time I write poems and short stories to relieve myself from stress. I believe that my discomfort and anxiety when writing for a teacher derives from my experiences early in my literacy journey. The story takes place in a standard third grade classroom with white walls all around, a white board in the front, little cubbies for our book bags on the left side, a window that looks out towards the playground on the right, rows of desk in the middle and in the back right is where the teacher Ms. McLaughlin had her desk. Ms. McLaughlin was youre typical do it by the books mean old lady. She stood at about six feet tall had a very lanky body and short brown hair. She was a very cold person to say the least; every time she can near I would get chills up and down my body. The only thing that made that class any better was the fact that I had my best friend in there; his name was Drew he was a little goofy kid just like me. There was only two differences between drew and I and that was the ability to write a story and the legibility of our hand writing. My hand writing was atrocious; some people would mistake if for Arabic from time to time. My story writing was also terrible when I read stuff from back then it sounds like a bunch of random thoughts strung together. This was the day where it all began, it was about a week into my third grade school year. My best friend drew and I were walking into Ms. McLaughlin class and sat down next to each other. Then I look at the white board with dread was I read what was on todays agenda. First it said we were practicing our math times table then after that we were writing stories. This was the first time in school where I was asked to write a story to a prompt. The prompt said write about what you did this summer. I sat there at my desk with a blank expression on my face, looking around not knowing what to do and saw everyone else writing away. So I put my pencil tip on my paper and started to scribble away what I thought at the time was legible writing. The teacher said stop and took up the papers. I was excited that all of the writing was over because that meant recess was coming soon. I sat in my desk waiting for it to come as the teacher graded what all the student had written. Right before recess was about to let out the teacher handed back the papers and wrote on them. Most of the student said good job or had little critiques mine just said see me during recess. I sat in my desk as all the other children got up and went to recess, after all the children left I got up out of my desk and went back to Ms. McLaughlins desk. I handed her my paper as she looked at it with disgust. She looked me then my paper then back at me and she said, What is this garbage I told you to write about your summer not just scribble all over the paper. I told her I was sorry and I was in a hurry, but she didnt care she made me redo it during recess. After she told me to redo it I went back to my desk and sat down. I looked out the window toward the playground and saw all my friends playing and the jungle gyms and swings. That is one of the worst feelings I can remember; I was just sitting there wishing I could be out there with all the other little kids. I realized that my wish was never going to become true so I took out a sheet of paper and began writing. This time I was not going to rush through it; I was

Surphlis2 going to take my time and write it neatly, even though for me to make it legible it took me an eternity to do so. So I start writing taking every precaution to make sure the teacher was able to read it. I got about half way done and everyone came back in. I brought her the new paper I had so delicately put together and I told her I only got half way done she told me finish it next recess. I went back to my desk in disbelief that I would have to spend another wretched day inside while everyone else was at recess. My best friend drew sat down beside me again and asked where I was during recess I told him in her writing and he just looked at me with an expression that showed me he felt bad for me. Soon after he started telling me about what happened during recess and I just put my head down in envy as he blabbered about what happened. The school bell rang and we all got up and left to go home; everyone was excited to get out but me I just kept thinking about the horrors that tomorrow had in store for me. Unfortunately, the next day came and I went through the same old routine with walking into the classroom with drew, we sat down next to each other and class begun. The whole time Ms. McLaughlin was teaching I couldnt even focus, because I kept thinking about what was going to happen at recess. Recess finally came around and all the other kids got up out of there desk. My friend drew said, Hey, come out side and play she wont remember that you have to finish writing that story and I thought to myself yeah he is right old people cant remember anything. So I got up and left my desk filled with joy knowing that I was going to get to go to recess. I was walking down the hall towards the doors the lead to the playground; my excitement grew with every single step I took towards those doors. I push open the door feel the nice warm air caressing my cheek. Then all of sudden a hand gets placed on my shoulder and chills get sent up my spine. I stood still in time for a while because I knew exactly what was about to happen. I turned around and saw Ms. McLaughlin there standing shaking her head, she opened her mouth and said, You didnt think I forgot about our little arrangement now do you? I stood there in disbelief for a moment because the sweet taste of recess was in my finger tips and got ripped out of my grasp at the very last moment. I turned around and did not say a word; I just started walking towards the classroom. Every step closer I got closer to the classroom my disappointment and depression grew. I sat down at my desk and my teacher handed me my half-finished paper from yesterday. I started working on it again making sure everything was neat and presentable for Ms. McLaughlin; just as I was finishing up the other students headed back in to the classroom and sat in their seats. I took my paper that had taken me two recesses to write to the back of the classroom to give it to the teacher. She looked at it and said, Ahh I can read this one I got excited hoping that she would finally except what I had written she gives it back to me and says, Nope not good enough see me tomorrow at recess, I said, What is wrong with it you can read it she looks at me and says, Your writing is choppy and does not flow, now go sit at your desk. I went back to my desk as I was told even though at that point I was so mad it was quite possible that there was steam coming out of my ears. I sat in my chair for the rest of the school in anger because of the fact of the next day I would have to miss recess again and rewrite what I had already rewritten the past two days. The school bell rings and I head home wishing that tomorrow never comes. Once again I was let down by my wish tomorrow came and I had to go school. Drew and I again walked into the classroom and sat down next to each other. The days started to blend together it seemed like every time I entered that classroom I would zone out when Ms. McLaughlin was teaching and I could only focus on the fact that I had to stay in for recess yet again. I was sitting there spaced out looking out window at the playground while Ms. McLaughlin was teaching math. She calls on me to answer on of the math problems and I had no idea what

Surphlis3 was going on so I said I dont know. She told me to pay attention and gave me a demerit for not paying attention. Recess came yet again and all the students left. I sat in my desk and started to write a story that had a flow to it and wasnt choppy. I realized why my last story was choppy because I didnt put a sequence I just made a list. For example, I rode my bike, I went to grandmas, I went on vacation, I saw a dolphin, etc. so this time I used my thens, ands, and complete sentences. I finally got it done about half way through recess; I walked back to the teachers desk and had anxiety flow over me as she read my paper. She takes the paper writes something on it folds it and hands it back to me. I went back to my desk to read it; I opened it up and it said good job go outside. I jumped out of my seat ecstatically and headed outside to go play with my friends. At that moment in time I was probably the happiest kid on earth. Throughout my third grade year I had multiple occurrences that happened just like the story I just told you. The multiple occurrences caused me to form an anxiety while writing for a teacher. Even today with my much improved writing skills and legibility I still have constant thoughts that the teacher isnt going to approve of what I wrote and that they are not going to be able to get the message I am trying to deliver. My anxiety has slowly declined since my early literacy days but it is still with me and will probably continue to stay with me in the future like writing for my boss that will probably cause my anxiety to resurface because of the added pressure of the possibility of losing my job or just looking stupid in front of my boss.