The Horse Is A Lie Analysis

The Horse is a Lie
I stole some glances from across the English classroom. My counterparts looking back let loose a few chuckles as I mouthed one phrase: “the horse was a lie.” To most, such a comment would have either been taken with some annoyance or misunderstanding, but my peers knew exactly what I was talking about. It was hysterical.
I was referencing the horse metaphor that was promoted in one of the reading passages on which we had to write an in-class essay. After thorough analysis, rereading, double checking, and ample elaboration I turned my essay in. There was only one problem with the paper that I wrote, a minor detail that surely was not going to undermine my complex argument scheme. The horse, which I assumed to be literal, was a stick pony that the main character was playing with using her imagination. There went

all of my sound rhetoric and critical thinking over the last class period. My essay was in shambles.
I did not get back the desired score (a five out of nine with a hulking down arrow next to it), but to my comfort, neither did anybody else.

Rather than try to dig up another middling obscure commentary about gender roles, I tried my best to write a thought provoking poetry analysis. I whiffed. As a class, just about every person in the room (except for our teacher and a couple lucky guessers) had been under the guise that the horse was as real as their own left hand. It was really a shame that we could not have at least pretended it was real.
Although now I have a more concrete understanding of analytical essay writing, I did not possess the skills to write as such seven months ago. I do not stress over a quickly drawn down arrow on my essay. In-class writing days do not keep me from getting to bed on time, because they seem to be a normal part of the curriculum. Moreover, I have adjusted to the fast paced learning styles of many of my teachers, who expect to squeeze in all the material in time for exactly 26 days of review before the end of the year testing slate. Such a proposal, which seemed daunting at first, has become

routine.
My new daily schedule starts the way everyone else’s does, by waking up. Then, I get to be successful for twenty four hours, and start all over again the next day. Granted there is more to being successful than writing so in my agenda in the morning. Success starts with a vectors test in first period, subjunctive review in Spanish, and an in-class essay in English. Soon after, a quick tariff dispute in fourth period before lunch, notes on the Battle of Stalingrad, and review of momentum for the quiz on Thursday ensues. This is the new normal, and I should hope that I can sustain normalcy well into the future.