Personal Narrative: Growing Up In My English Class

Growing up in a predominantly white school system the expectations for students were held on a higher standard than other school districts. Everyone goes through the stages where they attempt to learn to read and write. Most children are able to succeed and be able to comprehend and the other children become more illiterate. I was in the category as the “other children”. Don’t get me wrong I could read but I could never fully understand what the context of writing was. I remember sitting in the classroom, in the back praying I wouldn’t get called on as I stared at the walls hopelessly counting down the seconds until my English class was over. It wasn’t until the end of my junior year 'til I started taking writing and literature seriously and,

We didn’t have to take the Reading and Writing SOL until your junior year so I thought I had it in the bag. I used to sleep during class and I never picked up a book. I distinctly remember sitting in front of a computer, eyes lowering because of the lack of sleep I had gotten the night before, and the aroma of apple cinnamon filling my nose. The instructor listed the instructions on the board on how to start the assessment. Throughout the test was easy, so I thought until I reached the passage portion of the test. I closed my eyes trying to remember the test taking skills we did in class but it all became a blur to me. My head was throbbing and I began to sweat. I was more focused on what the words meant than the actual meaning of the story. I predicted my way through the reading potion and was stopped by writing the essay segment. I was good at writing but I used to write how I spoke so my grammar was entirely incorrect and I could never stay on topic. The next day in class Mrs. Wilson gave a lecture on how the writing and reading SOL determines if you graduate or not. I started thinking about my study habits and realized that I had none and I was selling myself short. My teacher individually called each student up to give them their score. After I was called humiliation and embarrassment filled my body. I scored a 365 but I was eligible for the retake over the summer. When class ended I stayed back to talk to Mrs. Wilson, explaining to her that I needed a little more help because I refuse to be labeled as the “other children”