English 319: Persuasion

1

Paper 3 Final (Future Building)

Daniel Mauro
December 5, 2008
Memoir
WC: 1,456
Future Building

The computer was running hot from being turned on, Microsoft Word beckoning me with it’s blank white page and blinking cursor pleading me to come do my English assignment. It was a call that would go unanswered for a couple of days. It was important for me, as a freshman in high school, to build amazing models using the latest Lego creations but it was not important for me to find a topic to write about for a persuasive essay.
The other kids in my English class have all written first drafts and handed them in, the teacher checked their names and told them that they could leave early for the day. The uncomfortable blue plastic chair would unfortunately hold me in its grasp longer. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t turned in a draft, but I didn’t want to be compared to the others sitting in the room with me. They were the kids who didn’t care about their education and would probably pass by the skin of their teeth, I was the kid who calculated exactly what I could miss and still get a B or a C in the course—this failed first draft being my one error.
Sheilah Kaehny stared us down, and in return, we cast our gazes elsewhere, this was an effective way to curb her disappointment for 2 seconds. She launched into her spiel of how disappointed she was with us and how our grades were going to get docked but we still needed to turn in a draft by the next day to satisfy her anger. This is where I found a skill I thought I hadn’t had, and one that would help me for years to come. The ability to write under pressure, the single ability that propels me through school and one that would eventually take my interest in the form of journalism.
Under the context given, it sounds like I would have just bullshitted the paper and handed it in for a decent B- grade that most BS papers get without fail, but I was young and naïve and wanted to impress Kaehny and have her revoke my previous failure. I wrote the paper that night and handed it in to her the next day. Looking back, it was a simple paper; persuade her to think your way about the topic you choose. So, I did something easy, I picked a topic everybody has written about at least once: teachers getting paid more. I even added little doodles along the border to amp the effect of the paper.
After reading the essay and marking up the errors, Kaehny had asked me if I would like to talk to her after class. Naturally, every high school freshman will be worried about it. Questions floated through my head like: Did she like it? Oh no, did I accidentally plagiarize? What if it is a total piece of crap? When I got into her office she was sitting at her desk grading papers. I walked up to her, swallowed my pride and knocked on her wall. “Mrs. K-Kaehny,” my voice was wavering, I was never good at being cool like the people on the television.
“Dan, alright do you know why I called you into my office?” Standard teacher question.
“No, I don’t. Did I do something wrong?” Standard student response.
“I would like to talk to you about your essay, Dan. Other than a few errors this has a potential to be an A paper. You essentially picked a topic, did an outline, and wrote your draft while the other students have probably been planning all of this out for the past week or two.” Her eyes full of demonic glee weren’t enough to counter my feelings of being in trouble.
“Uh-huh”
“What I am trying to get at here is that you can add a coherent thought onto paper under a deadline.”
“I guess I don’t understand.” Feigning ignorance was all I could do while my mind processed the fact that I wasn’t in trouble.
“I know it’s too late to do it this later into the semester but how would you like to join the ranks of The Trojan Voice next year?” The Trojan Voice was the school newspaper that Kaehny advised; in fact she seemed to use her English classes as a farm team kind of thing. Hardly any students were interested in joining and the English department drafted the rest of us.
I don’t know why I eventually answered yes; I had no experience in the ways of journalistic writing. I had bad people skills, in fact if I hadn’t joined that class I would most likely be the quiet kid in every class who sulks their head when they are walking to and from class and that would be no fun. This was the single biggest event that led me to enjoy writing—leisurely and for work. But at this point I was only a sophomore, I had plenty of writing left to learn about, plenty to practice, and even some awful timed essays inside of a composition class that I took junior year.
Inside the class, I was quickly taught everything I needed to know about news writing and was assigned two stories: What exactly does the Colorado Student Assessment Program do and another story about how a law was being passed that would let high school students cook with alcohol for tournaments. I was scared to death. I had to broaden my horizons more than I wanted to for me to write these stories. I even had to go so far as calling a Congressman about the CSAP story, talking with another school about how the cooking laws affected the curriculum and I had to talk to students who I would probably never interact with.
Over the years, I wrote stories about a streaker running through school, the district art show and eventually wandered into the realm of feature and opinion stories by writing a Japanese band review and an article about why Art was essential to High Schools. But this wasn’t the only thing I had used to preoccupy my time. At the time, I was split about going three different ways with my education: I could choose to continue with newspaper, increase my interest with physics or I could take the art classes that I had found a fondness of. After juggling with all three, I decided that I didn’t want to take calculus to continue taking physics, and I walked an even road with taking art classes and newspaper. In fact, if I wasn’t covered in clay or bleeding because I cut myself on a piece of metal in jewelry it was a bad day for me.
However, I can’t blame my newspaper class for my love of writing. It was the spark, the item in a nefarious agenda that would take me through two advanced English courses. One of which I failed for the very reason I got myself into this mess, and the other one being fun enough that I didn’t consider a class. As time grew on I found that the more objective pieces I wrote the more bland and unappealing my writing voice became. Thanks to those classes I took, I learned how to control it and became a better writer. In fact, some of the best things I’ve written were done inside of my British Literature/Composition class. The teacher would require us to write using the word-of-the-day everyday and also had us do timed essays because the teacher, Denise Conolly, was essentially crazy.
Those are the reasons that eventually drove me to become a Journalism major with a minor in English in college. The major to pursue my passion and the minor to counterbalance the negative effects of writing in a “newsy” voice all of the time. In fact the minor was a replacement choice, originally I had applied to be an Art minor but after setting foot inside of one of the required classes I realized that they were going to make me do stuff that I knew I wouldn’t spend time on when all I wanted to do was make some pottery.
Today, I’m still learning all that I can about journalism in hopes that one day I’ll have “the job.” The job that I feel comfortable enough with staying right where I am at until something better shows up. I’m only human. Until that fateful day, I’m looking forward to every chance I get to write stories and invest my talents into creative writing. There may even be the off chance that I write a memoir, just maybe.