Writing
I Became a Writer Because I Failed English Class
From class clown to writer
I was not a good student.
Like at all.
Not in highschool.
Especially not in middle school.
I feel an everlasting shame for what I put my mother through in those years.
All my teachers said the same thing, “smart kid. Refuses to do any work.”
I rarely did homework and the stuff I did do was done poorly in the ten minutes before class starts.
Ironically enough, my worst class was English. It’s in that class that this story would find its genesis.
I hated English in school, middle school especially/. I thought the books we read were boring — except The Giver god how I love that book — and was terrible at grammar. I am still terrible at grammar. If you read my work at all you surely know this.
I was also a bad writer.
Correction: I was a bad typist. I was in school just as computer printed paper was expected even for kids and I couldn’t keep up.
I was so slow I would write my papers long hand and have my mom typos them up for me after she got home from work.
