Notes from a School Year, Part One

The year in English is, thankfully, over. Looking back, I realize there is a total of three pieces I wrote this year that I was proud of. Each is an entirely different sort of writing, but each is distinctively my writing. A list is in order. (Just to make things more difficult, none of them have titles.)


1. Short (very! she suggested 400 words) story relating to themes of some other (lousy) stories (like much of the class, I chose death), winter.

I was proud of this not because it was particularly good, but rather for the sheer effort I put into it. We had very little time to write it in the first place (it was supposed to be in class, but we all know I find that impossible. I'll never plagiarize a story, anyway), and I wound up writing it twice. I wrote the opening to a story and brought it into class, where I let (had?) Marisa read it. She pretty well voiced my own thoughts, so I tore it up and threw it away. Too clichéd. Too normal.

I spent a long time trying to think up a new story. I don't think I've ever put so much effort into so few words. I lay on the floor, I stared at the screen, I ran up and down the stairs. Finally, I typed up something Marisa and I both liked better.

Excerpt: He was awake when the sky turned blue and the first rays of light crept across from the horizon. Pressing down the lever on the toaster, he took a spoon and slowly stirred his coffee, watching the milk diffuse. It was early. He had no longer any use for an alarm clock, for he barely slept: not wishing to descend into the horror of his dreams, he often lay awake until dawn.


2. Public speaking. Topic: Global overfishing. Spring.

I was proud of this for the sheer amount of work I put into it. I wrote it over a span of a day and a half, I practiced it, and I did an alright job of yelling at the class about one of my favourite subjects. I was also proud of this because I took something people had been laughing about and wrote a serious, angry speech about it.

Excerpt: The fishing industry stands at the brink of ruin. In the Mediterranean, bluefin tuna is being caught at four times the sustainable rate. Off the western African coast, villages are starving due to depleted stocks of their primary income. In our own dear Atlantic provinces, the decimated cod population threatens the future of coastal communities. Sharks are slaughtered for their fins, dolphins die in nets, quotas are disrespected and laws flouted.


3. Poem. End of year.

As you must well know, I am one terrible poet. But I wrote this poem (in Math class) and I turned it in, and that is enough for me.

Excerpt: No excerpt. It's not long enough to cite in part, nor is it good enough to post on the Internet.