Stephanee YagerMalcolm CampbellUWRT 110327 January 2015A Writing RevolutionThe first time I met Ms. Carr was my junior year at East Lincoln High School. I strolled into my Critical Analysis of Film class anticipating on doing absolutely nothing, but watching movies. Pull out your composition notebooks and begin writing a reflection on what you hope to get out of this class, announced the sweet, southern, pale woman standing in the front of the fluorescent lit classroom. Writing already? You have go to be kidding me. I thought this was a movie class. As a sixteen year old girl in a class with her cute, distracting boyfriend, I did not have the slightest motivation to write. What did I know about writing anyways? I barely got by in that class writing half-assed movie reviews that were due every two weeks. One morning while I was frantically trying to finish one of my reviews in the school library, I overheard a few seniors in Ms. Carrs AP Literature talking about the class. I got an 8 on my poetry essay this week! Thats way better than last weeks 6 This sparked my curiosity because it sounded like Ms. Carrs students were progressing in the one thing I sucked at: writing. I decided to get more insight from my best friend, Alex, who was a diligent working senior who made her way up on the Seniors Hall of Fame. Youre in AP Lit right? Is it hard? Is it worth it? What do you even do in there? Are you glad you signed up for it? I was so curious. I knew if I was going to take that class next year, it would have to be worth it and not a life-ruining decision. Oh hell yeah its a lot of work but its not that hard. If you just keep up with your assignments, and you actually put in effort, youll be fine! explained Alex, Oh yeah, and it will prepare you so well for college. I thought I knew how to write a decent essay until I took Ms. Carrs class. College. Now thats one thing I was anxious as hell about. Maybe taking AP Literature would be advantageous to my writing skill and prepare me for the future. After taking my film class, Ms. Carr became my favorite teacher in the school so I wouldnt mind another semester with her. Besides, if I didnt, Id have to take English IV with Mrs. Gronning. The poor old lady would randomly break down in the middle of class (at least once a week) to vent about the heart attack she had 10 years ago, and I honestly didnt have time for that. That next week, I took a chance during senior registration. My unsure hand began to bubble in under the English section. I selected AP Literature. By the time my Spring Semester of senior year rolled around, I was ready. Our class was assigned summer readings for 5 pieces of Literature: The Rapture of Canaan, The Awakening, The Kite Runner, Hamlet, and A Streetcar Named Desire. Please pull out your journals and write and response to The Kite Runner, addressing the major symbols found in the text, announced Ms. Carr in her sweet southern voice. Not only did we have to read these pieces, but we had to read them analytically. I looked around the class frantically to search for a sign of confusion from my classmates. What did she mean? What exactly did she want from us? We were clueless like lost puppies. I just began to write, hoping I was giving her exactly what she wanted. I immediately thought, What in the world did I get myself into? I glanced down at the words on my paper with a look of disappointment. I wanted to learn how to write well, not embarrass myself. Later that week, I learned that she was gradually building up our ability to read and write analytically. Every week we would have a test on 10 new literary devices. Having to memorize all these words and what they meant and how to locate them in a piece of literaturemy mind was crammed with so much information I felt like it was going to explode. On Mondays we were given a piece of poetry and we had a week to write a one-page paper to analyze it and us as many literary devices as possible. She explained it would be graded on a 9 point scale (which is how the AP Literature final would be graded for the essay portion). When I received mine back, the same feeling of disappointment on the first day of school lingered in my mind when I saw a big fat 5 on my paper. Just average, really? I thought. As the course progressed, I worked much more diligently than I had at the beginning of the semester. We were assigned the dreaded Major Works Data Sheets for the 5 pieces we read, which each averaged out to be between 10-15 pages long. Everyone in the school knew when one of these were due, because the AP Lit kids would walk into class looking like death, smelling horrid from not showering, with huge bags under their eyes from pulling an all-nighter, or just not coming to school at all. My biggest mistake was waiting until the last 2 nights out of the two weeks we were given to complete my data sheets. It was 2 AM in my room, the night I was finishing my MWDS on Shakespeares Hamlet. I promised myself I wouldnt procrastinate on this one, but Netflix kept getting in my way. Inhaling the smell of brewed coffee (I was working on my third cup), I was able to perk up and begin the character analysis section. Meanwhile my phone was buzzing in the background from the group text between my best friends in AP Lit, sporadically throwing out helpful ideas about what to write, or asking questions. At least I wasnt the only one, right? After that, I kept up with my work and avoided procrastinating because I knew it would catch up to me and I would be flooded with a pile of crap to complete.The days were limited as the final exam was creeping up on us. I felt much more confident in my writing abilities, and I actually enjoyed the act itself (except for the Major Works Data Sheets because there was no personal flexibility). I picked up my writing journal and flipped to the very first entry and actually laughed. I cannot believe I wrote that! Thanks to the help of Ms. Carr, I was able to take my basic writing skills, improve them incredibly, and she made the class enjoyable at the same time. On a sunny day in June, Ms. Carr began to pass back our final poetry essays. I fidgeted in my chair anxiously, waiting to see how I did. Well done, Stephanee, she uttered as she lay the essay on my desk in front of me. My eyes widened as I saw an 8+ sitting at the top of the page. I remember so many emotions ran through me in that moment. In that moment I was successful. In that moment I had done what I did not think was possible. In that moment, I could write. Not just write words, but actually write, in a way that the content in my paper was harmonious like the musical notes written by Mozart for symphony No. 41.On the day of the exam, I went out to Bojangles for breakfast with my best friend, Carly. We were both so anxious, but confident that Ms. Carr taught us everything we could possibly need to know for this test. I hope I can apply The Kite Runner to whatever the prompt is, muttered Carly while she took a bite of her Cajun chicken biscuit. Me too.We went in so much depth talking about the recurring themes and devices in the book, I could recite all of them to you right now if I wanted I replied. We departed from the parking lot and headed to Hills Chapel United Methodist Church, where the test would be held. At least God will be with me, I thought, trying to calm my nerves. I took my assigned seat and glanced around the room. All 50 students of Ms. Carrs AP Literature class was in one room. The same people I would be graduating with in a week. When the test was finally administered, I took my time reading over everything and bubbled the best answer for each question. Before I knew it, the agonizing 55 minutes of multiple choice was up and it was finally time for the essay portion. I carefully opened up the booklet, analyzed the prompt, and brainstormed my ideas. I thought back to the whole semester, how far I had come, and remembered all the valuable things that sweet, southern woman taught me, and I began to write.