Wrote my way out...
I never thought I was a good writer. I wasn't that great of a student in high school because of everything happening in my life. I missed a lot of school Junior year and was actually worried about graduating on time. I worked my ass off Senior year to not only graduate, but to actually get into college. It's not that I wasn't smart (I was actually tested during my Junior year and found to be very smart), I just didn't have anyone pushing me... no one telling me that I could do or be anything.
I decided right before my Senior year that I wanted to go into photography so when I started looking at schools, I focused on that. Just going to college at all didn't seem possible so I jumped on the first school I saw that actually offered it as a major. I applied to 1 school... which is unheard of these days. When it came to writing my statement of purpose, I started to panic. How am I going to write this? Was my future dependent on it?
I'm sure there was a question to answer, but this was 18 years ago so if you expect me to remember it, well... sorry! But I remember very distinctly sitting down at the dining room table, using whatever computer my mother's boyfriend had set up at the time, and just... writing. Maybe it was the topic... maybe I was just motivated. Whatever the reason, I was able to write something that showed who I was.
I was accepted and went to a small Liberal Arts college right outside of Boston (Pine Manor College for anyone really interested). The best thing about my school was the way classes were set up so there were no "core classes" that had to be taken. Just 2 placement tests and then the rest was really up to you. I placed out of math (always a strong suit), but started freaking out about the english placement. I was going to have to write an essay?! Panic immediately set in. I remember this like it was yesterday. There I am, standing outside a lecture room in Halden Hall, completely freaking out. I ended up saying to someone, "Listen, I'm not going to be able to do this. Please just put me in the lowest class,"... and that's exactly what happened.
Now, in retrospect, this was a terrible decision. I basically ended up in a class that was lower than Composition 101 and was nothing more than teaching grammar. I was actually in class with people who didn't know sentence structure. In a way it was eye-opening for me because I knew I was more capable and smarter than I gave myself credit for. But man... that class was torture.
Something that PMC did when I was there was self-reflection essays. This was big... basically the thread that ran through the entire school. Almost every class ends with one. "Write 1.5-2 pages on your experience in this class." You start to get very good at writing very short pieces all about yourself... spinning it so that every single one doesn't sound exactly the same. During Sophomore year, we had to do our Sophomore portfolios which was just a collection of these same self-reflection essays. I believe there were 15 topics (could have been 20, again... this was a long time ago) and you had to write something on each topic, put them in a binder, and then present it at the end of the year.
I knew that the portfolio was coming when I entered school. I didn't think about it much Freshman year, but it was always there... looming like a giant black cloud. How was I going to be able to do it? I became a better writer over the course of that first year, but writing that much? It seemed impossible. I remember sitting down with my tutor (another PMC benefit) and just freaking out about it. Her name was Mary Walsh and she had this uncanny ability to remind me that I was better than I thought... that if I just started putting something on paper that it would all start to flow... and she was right. I sat at the computer and banged out the first 10 without even trying. It was like a switch had flipped in my brain and all of a sudden... I could write!
Now writing feels like 2nd nature and I can sit here and just... pluck pluck pluck... manage to put words together. But here's the thing...
If I had never tried, I might not have gotten into college. The idea of writing was so terrifying that I often asked for alternate assignments in high school... anything to avoid having to even try. If I hadn't put those first words down, who knows where I'd be. Did I write my way out? In a way, yes. By discovering that I could write, it allowed me to use that tool to get myself out of many bad situations. Whether it was writing my college entrance essay or writing 20 self-reflections or writing in a journal until a realization pops up.
Writing went from being something that made me literally panic to something that became not just a coping tool... but a survival one. Being able to write anything saved me from the life I was living many times over.
So, if you think you can't do something just don't give up. Maybe you're not the most talented person at it, but if it helps you in some way, just keep doing it. Does it make you panic? Try to figure out why. If nothing else, finding that panic trigger might be exactly what you need to flip that switch.
- Danielle
I decided right before my Senior year that I wanted to go into photography so when I started looking at schools, I focused on that. Just going to college at all didn't seem possible so I jumped on the first school I saw that actually offered it as a major. I applied to 1 school... which is unheard of these days. When it came to writing my statement of purpose, I started to panic. How am I going to write this? Was my future dependent on it?
I'm sure there was a question to answer, but this was 18 years ago so if you expect me to remember it, well... sorry! But I remember very distinctly sitting down at the dining room table, using whatever computer my mother's boyfriend had set up at the time, and just... writing. Maybe it was the topic... maybe I was just motivated. Whatever the reason, I was able to write something that showed who I was.
I was accepted and went to a small Liberal Arts college right outside of Boston (Pine Manor College for anyone really interested). The best thing about my school was the way classes were set up so there were no "core classes" that had to be taken. Just 2 placement tests and then the rest was really up to you. I placed out of math (always a strong suit), but started freaking out about the english placement. I was going to have to write an essay?! Panic immediately set in. I remember this like it was yesterday. There I am, standing outside a lecture room in Halden Hall, completely freaking out. I ended up saying to someone, "Listen, I'm not going to be able to do this. Please just put me in the lowest class,"... and that's exactly what happened.
Now, in retrospect, this was a terrible decision. I basically ended up in a class that was lower than Composition 101 and was nothing more than teaching grammar. I was actually in class with people who didn't know sentence structure. In a way it was eye-opening for me because I knew I was more capable and smarter than I gave myself credit for. But man... that class was torture.
Something that PMC did when I was there was self-reflection essays. This was big... basically the thread that ran through the entire school. Almost every class ends with one. "Write 1.5-2 pages on your experience in this class." You start to get very good at writing very short pieces all about yourself... spinning it so that every single one doesn't sound exactly the same. During Sophomore year, we had to do our Sophomore portfolios which was just a collection of these same self-reflection essays. I believe there were 15 topics (could have been 20, again... this was a long time ago) and you had to write something on each topic, put them in a binder, and then present it at the end of the year.
I knew that the portfolio was coming when I entered school. I didn't think about it much Freshman year, but it was always there... looming like a giant black cloud. How was I going to be able to do it? I became a better writer over the course of that first year, but writing that much? It seemed impossible. I remember sitting down with my tutor (another PMC benefit) and just freaking out about it. Her name was Mary Walsh and she had this uncanny ability to remind me that I was better than I thought... that if I just started putting something on paper that it would all start to flow... and she was right. I sat at the computer and banged out the first 10 without even trying. It was like a switch had flipped in my brain and all of a sudden... I could write!
Now writing feels like 2nd nature and I can sit here and just... pluck pluck pluck... manage to put words together. But here's the thing...
If I had never tried, I might not have gotten into college. The idea of writing was so terrifying that I often asked for alternate assignments in high school... anything to avoid having to even try. If I hadn't put those first words down, who knows where I'd be. Did I write my way out? In a way, yes. By discovering that I could write, it allowed me to use that tool to get myself out of many bad situations. Whether it was writing my college entrance essay or writing 20 self-reflections or writing in a journal until a realization pops up.
Writing went from being something that made me literally panic to something that became not just a coping tool... but a survival one. Being able to write anything saved me from the life I was living many times over.
So, if you think you can't do something just don't give up. Maybe you're not the most talented person at it, but if it helps you in some way, just keep doing it. Does it make you panic? Try to figure out why. If nothing else, finding that panic trigger might be exactly what you need to flip that switch.
- Danielle
