Dear New Student,

You are now finding yourself in college, a place where you’ll have the choice to pick your  classes and find new interests. Fortunately (depending how you look at it), ENGL 110 is a class you’re required to take. Believe me when I say, I wasn’t thrilled to be enrolled in this class. Personally, I dedicate a lot of time to writing whether in the form of  poetry, short stories or songwriting. However, writing essays is not my forte and frankly makes me uncomfortable. But now that my time has come to an end in ENGL 110, I feel a little silly for the worries I had created even before the first day of the semester. This class has proved to be useful for my writing, but also been influential to my growth as a person and I’m sure it will do the same for you.

Before you begin the semester, there’s a few things you should always remember. The goal of this class is not to overwhelm and certainly not to discourage. With any class you have and will ever take, remind yourself how it’s there for your own failure, practice, and success. The outcomes you see at the end of the semester are truly a reflection of the work you put in. In ENGL 110, you’ll be exposed to a variety of texts and writers coming from all sorts of backgrounds. More likely than not, you may resonate with someone or something that was said. And if that comes your way, let yourself be intrigued and feed your curiosity. 

During the semester, I found myself analyzing poems, texts, writing a research paper on my topic of choice, and even interviewing a classmate. I definitely liked some activities more than others but what helped me was the variety of assignments and activities within the class. It kept things interesting and exposed me to inspiring people. ENGL 110 is a class where creativity is welcomed and why not take advantage of what it has to offer. 

Now, If there is one thing to avoid it’s negative thoughts of yourself. I know it’s cliche to say this but we are our worst critics. Sometimes it takes stepping away from your computer and watching your comfort Netflix show to find yourself revising your work and saying, “it’s actually not so bad”. From one student to another, do not place so much pressure on yourself. This class does not dictate what you’re capable of but it can be a stepping stone for other things that await in your future. I wish you the best luck and have a great semester. 

 

After completing English 101 for this spring semester, I am confident that I have achieved a good and beneficial understanding on what Course Learning Outcomes are and how to apply them to my writing  Each assignment has had its challenges yet also been useful for my growth and given me guidance on becoming a better writer, both in college and in my personal interests. I plan to apply what I’ve learned to future projects especially the following I feel to have focuses on

The first Course Learning Outcome I felt to be present in my experience for this class was exploring and analyzing, in writing and reading, a variety of genres and rhetorical situations. We began the semester focusing on a variety of texts including poems, excerpts and essays. For example, reading and analyzing “To Live in The Borderlands” by Gloria Anzaldua, let us the students  be exposed to the language of poetry and its structure. The questions we had to answer for the Rhetorical situations provided guidance and required time to be dedicated for the assignments. My favorite written piece was the essay MOTHER TONGUE by Amy Tan. Not only did I enjoy the essay because it’s very well written, but it also made me reflect and take away lessons I can apply to my own life. This first Course Learning Outcome played a big part in how I understood the essay.

Another Course Learning Outcome I feel comfortable on is having developed strategies for reading, drafting, collaborating, revising, and editing. Revising your own work can be challenging. But having a minimum of 2 drafts for each Phase was very helpful. The first draft contained either edits from the Professor or our peers. This method is what worked best for me. Reading our peers’ work was also eye opening and great practice. I remember reading Taiwo’s Peer Profile and trying to make the effort of giving useful comments as well as drawing inspiration from her for my own writing. Another strategy that worked great was giving notes on my peers documents but being able to see the other comments as well. It was collaborative and gave me ideas on what to look for when revising future papers.

A third Course Learning Outcome I feel to have secured under my belt is understanding and using Digital Technologies. With the way Technology is constantly changing, it’s easy to fall behind especially if you’re someone that would rather write things down than have it on the computer. Because I’m personally like this, digital technologies can be quite overwhelming and discouraging. This class had me record audio and put together presentations with images and text, among other things. Using Digital technologies can enhance your work and reach larger audiences. When we presented Literary Narratives, all students had to include images, some form of audio and accomplish captivating the audience. It is a tool that has resulted in only making your projects more well rounded. 

As I reflect back the semester,  I’m thinking about the other Course Learning Outcomes I learned. For some, I feel stronger and in other Learning Outcomes, I know I still struggle. But the important thing is that I’m confident with what I have achieved and I understand how they played an important role throughout the semester and am choosing to continue to use them for my own improvement as a student and person.

 

 Matilda 

They say kids are like sponges; The younger we are, the easier it is to absorb. Knowledge is acquired through experience and what we are exposed to. Furthermore, it’s necessary for us to nourish language and literacy from an early start, for the things we learn will serve as guidance and as tools for the “us” in the future. I can acknowledge this statement now as an adult with years in my past. But as a child, my actions told a different story.

 For me, Spanish came first, English second. My first 6 years of life were in Venezuela and so English wasn’t essential. I did attend an after school class where I learned basic phrases and words but even so, I paid little mind to it. Then as my 6th birthday approached, my life completely changed and I left everything behind to start a new life in Boston, Massachusetts. All I brought with me that tied me to my roots was my family, boxes on boxes with toys and Spanish children’s books, and my Spanish. Now, the English language was at the center of it all. As for English literature, I pushed it far to the side, for reading was never a passion of mine to begin with and so I chose to do the bare minimum that was required of me as an Elementary schooler in the United States. 

I was very shy as a kid. Communicating with anyone that wasn’t my family was already hard in my native language and now I was expected to speak and read in a language that others from birth had known. I remember imagining a glass wall between myself and English and preferred resorting to the comfort my dolls and movies gave me. But the act of speaking was ingrained in my everyday activities and avoiding its presence wasn’t an option. As for reading, things were a little different. In the class, I could get away with a quick look at the words, add a wrinkle between the brows for a pensive look, and let students and the teacher take it away while my eyes were simply resting above the page. To put it simply, I found reading boring. I lacked patience, curiosity, and desire for books. Knowing the type of kid that I was, I would only partake in something if I found genuine joy. My tolerant relationship with literature did not ride the bus back home with me and it certainly did not find its way in my hands. Looking back, it’s funny to me how my basement held a collection of 700 books that belonged to my mom. Some of her favorite’s were “The Wednesday Witch” by Ruth Chew and any piece of literary work by Jane Austin. Not all the books had a place on the bookshelves, for some were stacked on the floor or balancing themselves on the ledge of the shelves. But to me, It didn’t matter the diversity of literary works that rested in my basement. Not once did I pick out a book on my own other than occasionally picking up one of my children’s books in Spanish to enjoy a brief moment of Nostalgia.

In second grade,  our teachers started to take us on monthly trips to the school’s library. It was with the intention to motivate us to read. More times than not, I would walk into the library with a sense of dread every time we’d go.  I would pick a book that met my demands; BIG font, large pictures and of course, with the least amount of pages. These requirements followed every book I chose. A year later as a third grader, I was still keeping a large distance between English literature and myself. That is, any book that had words filling up the pages from top to bottom rather than an image as the focal point. Literature has many forms and sizes but the real daunting work was the one that required more reading than anything else.

 I saw the library as a forbidden place. My negative views on reading forbade me from sprouting any curiosity towards a book and finding a reason to step into the library’s hidden treasures. From my eyes, the library was quiet, it was foreign. There were books on books, and large posters with fictional characters with wands and brooms in their hands, hanging high on the walls. On one of our visits, I observed the library as I always had. Nothing had occurred prior in the day that would have suggested maybe this time it’d be different. My class and I had single-filed into a corner that read READING AREA. The librarian Ms. Mcdougall and a book were waiting for us. We settled down and she’d begun to read.  Afterwards, we had our usual time to look around for our personal pick. I wandered around and carefully searched for what appeared like easy choices. I was prepared to be the last kid at the checkout line. And then, as I aimlessly passed the time, my eyes landed on a softcover book with a sketched out drawing. 

 

There was a girl, sitting on a stack of books and the name Matilda read across the top. I wondered, is this the same Matilda I saw on tv? I looked at the inside only to confirm my suspicions to be true. My immediate thought was how easy it would be to get away with “reading” what I already knew! So, I grabbed it,  checked it out and didn’t give it a second thought for the rest of the day. 

I must have been absolutely undeniably, totally and utterly BORED to have found the book in my lap. Whether it was boredom or a shred of curiosity invading my mind I don’t recall but I began to read:

“It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think he or she is wonderful. “

 

Not a bad start.  I continued to read.

”Some parents go further. They become so blinded by adoration they manage to convince themselves their child has qualities of genius.”

 

I read. I paid attention to the words and the weight they carried. I imagined and created images, characters, personalities. I let myself get lost in the writing and flipped through the pages effortlessly. Soon enough, I started to see myself within the text. I resonated with her solitude, with being part of a dysfunctional family. I listened to her character, and why literature was her best friend. I found pure joy when diving in the universe of Rhoald Dahl. The more I read, the easier it became yet harder it was to leave the book alone. 

The library became the prettiest place in the whole school. I could no longer deny literature from my life. Reading Matilda was personal and rewarding and was the literary work that opened the door for other books. Books have provided me with comfort and a place to escape from my own reality, much like the way it does for Matilda. I started accepting my moms recommendations and becoming familiar with the books in my basement. However, the book may never have crossed paths with my childhood, if I hadn’t been forced to step into the school’s library. I cherished not only Roald Dahl’s writing but also the lesson that was in place. Letting myself be exposed to a world that I had closed myself off from, only let good things come out of it.   Literature is one of the many things that add color to our lives, so why deny its beauty?