When I first started composing this paper, I felt alienated from the art of writing. My words did not reflect what my mind was trying to say. But, I continued writing, and suddenly the words connected. I finished what I thought was my final draft. Pleased with my initial effort, I also assumed my writing consultant would be. But, I can still hear her voice, "What do you mean? Can you expand on that idea? Explain to me again what happened. That is wonderful, write that idea down." Finally, with the help of a writing consultant, combined with my instructor and peer editing sessions, I completed my first college paper. Thank-you all!
Riding back on the bus from our computer cluster class, the conversation among my classmates and myself was centered entirely on the five- to seven-page writing project assigned to us in our Writing 105 class. Various suggestions were being passed back and forth. The question in everyones mind was how to elaborate on our reading and writing experiences relating to our individual identity. One person said that she was going to try and emulate the authors in our readings and take one or more of their thoughts and expand on them. Another person suggested reading our notes from the video we viewed to try to capture the ideas presented from there. However, we were all in agreement on how insurmountable five- to seven-pages typed seemed. The question was still plaguing me after I got home. I kept thinking of how boring and average my life has been. Telling people I work for the telephone company only prompts the question, "Do you happen to know so an so?" People incorrectly assume that everyone who works there is either a telephone operator or a repair person; these occupations don't even cause a flicker of interest. How can I possibly develop this writing theme and capture the interest of my classmates and my instructor? I remember reading in one of my sales brochures, a quote from Scottish poet Bobby Burns, Oh, what some power the giftie give us. / To see ourselves as others see us! I suspect by the completion of this assignment that my unvarnished identity will be exposed to my own scrutiny. An identity of myself that I don't want to envision.
What was I going to write about? What is my identity in relation to my reading and writing experiences to date? Do my reading and writing experiences have anything to do with my identity? Who am I as a reader, writer and what has that got to do with the way I define myself? I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed by these questions. Family and friends accept you as the person you are; they don't question your identity as a person or how you happened to become that particular type of person. I was a teen-ager the last time I did any "soul searching," and questioned myself on who I am as a person. At that point in my life, it was crucial to be accepted by my peers. I wanted to be everyones friend. I ended up becoming the social director in high school, deciding on which dance, game, and party my crew of cronies and I attended. I viewed leadership as my top priority and the means to climb up the social ladder in high school.
What happens if I hate my identity as a person after I question myself? The doubts that I have concerning my own writing abilities have caused my identity as a confident person who thrives on challenge to waver. I am going to have to change my mental outlook and look on the positive side of writing this paper as a means to get to know myself better as a writer, reader, thinker and learner as suggested by Chris Madden, my instructor.
The thought of the assignment made sleeping impossible that night. Finally, after two hours of tossing and turning, I went downstairs and started putting ideas down on paper. We learned in class that you do your best thinking by writing down your thoughts. Let your paper take on the identity of another person where you can persuade her into thinking your way, or let the words that you have put down allow you to change your mind with your innovative thoughts. So here I am, sitting alone in my recliner. Okay, mind, start pouring out intelligent, astounding thoughts on who I am. Start thinking, Brain, after all this is as important to you as it is to me. We're not going to fail because we both know that the ego does not like any major setbacks. What's the matter, Brain, you're the person that runs my mouth at 100 miles per hour; what's wrong with making this pen burn right across these pages?
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Okay, let's stop and think. Remember what Chris said: pretend the paper is a person. I need all the help I can get, God, how am I supposed to do this? Hmmm . . . are you there God? Hi! I'm having a problem with doing this paper . . . Oh, you wanted to talk to me? You want me to forgive my enemies? What enemies? What "hate list?" Martha, do I remember Martha, sure I do. God, how can I possibly forgive her? You remember how she used to taunt me at the school bus stop. She used to get everyone to laugh at me. Laugh at my hair, my clothes and call me a "stupid Polack." Are you kidding me! No, sir, I mean no disrespect intended sir, but God, I can't forgive her! Well . . . yes sir . . . , you're right, if it wasn't for her I never would have received straight A's in elementary and junior high school.
Reward? What reward? Oh . . . , the certificate I received at my junior-high-school graduation ceremonies. My parents were so proud of me for winning that certificate. I forgot all about that certificate for reading the most library books in a two-year period. Remember, God, how I used to struggle writing all those book reviews that had to be kept on file with the librarian to prove that I read the books? The certificate raised my self- esteem and gave me the courage to correct anyone who called me "Polack." Granted, in my youth I felt ashamed at being given a nickname associated with someone of lower intelligence; it's the reason why I insist people refer to me with my given name of Dorothy. The cruel nickname I was given in my youth still follows me around like a shadow. Friends that I have had for years still slip and call me by that disdainful name. Apparently, God, you placed within us an error in human nature or memory, concerning nicknames. No matter how many times I have corrected my friends, I am still affectionately referred to as "Polack." Reading and writing the most book reviews from a student body of over 300 changed my identity from someone who was scorned because of her nationality into a student. I guess I showed Martha and everyone else that Polish was a word for a nationality of people, not a synonym for stupid. All right, all right, I'll forgive her. I'll take her off my "hate list."
God, I was wondering if you could give me some help on this assignment, I ah, ah, am sort of . . . Excuse me, sir, did you say that you want to talk about another enemy on "my hate list?" Who did you say . . . a Mr. Meltzer? You mean my high-school-guidance counselor. Yes, I remember that jerk, he had the worst breath in the whole world. We used to call him Mr. Dragon Breath. He's the one who told me that I wasn't "college material." He advised me to change my curriculum from regents diploma to business. After all, God, he said my parents didn't have enough money to send me to college. The business world was where I belonged. Maybe after graduation I could get a nice little job in an insurance company or maybe become a receptionist in a doctor's office. He even had the gall to say, "a good looking girl like you would probably get married right after graduation." The old dragon didn't even know anything at all about me, but he got me so mad I swore I would never go back to see him again. I guess if I reflect back on my actions today, I would have found a different counselor, but I was a little hot tempered. He insulted me by mentioning my parents' financial situation. Why didn't he offer any college scholarships or tuition aid plans? He destroyed my identity as a good student and after that incident I just didn't care anymore. Why should I study all these hours when I had other friends who were always partying and having a good time? Unfortunately, I was attending high school in the early 1960's and I wasn't expected to be a good reader/writer. The 1960's were still considered a "man's world," and higher education was a waste of time and money for a woman who would eventually have her career as a "house-wife and mother." Sorry, God, but I'm not taking Mr. Dragon Breath off my "hate list!" He was the person who crushed my identity as a good student and made me feel like a failure at fifteen. You know my identity as a hard working individual who can overcome any adversity wasn't formulated in my teenage years. I didn't have the compelling need to succeed like Mike Rose, who was brought up in a poverty stricken neighborhood, and carried the stigma of an illiterate high-school-student. Through reading and writing he changed his identity, becoming a college professor. Frederick Douglass, changed his identity from slave, to man. He then questioned slavery with his new-found knowledge. And eventually won his freedom by escaping on a "pass," that he wrote himself, changing his identity to a free man.
My situation wasn't as intolerable and I was satisfied with just getting by. Well . . . yes . . . , I am finally going to University College and it wasn't entirely Mr. Dragon Breath's fault that I haven't done this before. God, you know how I dreamed of going to college; first there was no money and then no time. You are right; I do view myself as an undereducated individual, especially with the fierce competition in today's job market. God, I just want you to know that I'm going to try my hardest to succeed in this endeavor and I am going to graduate with a four year degree. You really think if the old fool were still alive and saw me going to school he'd have to change his opinion of me? Wait a minute, he must have been at least 70 years old when I had him as a sophomore in high school and that was over 30 years ago. Tell me, God . . . where is old Mr. Dragon Breath residing these days? I hope he's in Hell . . . no . . . residing in purgatory, and if I forgive him he can reach heaven. Boy talk about putting pressure on someone, but I always remember "what goes around comes around," and you know that I want to get to heaven . . . so I will forgive him.
God, while we're here talking, I was wondering if you could give me some ideas about this paper, um-m-m . . . . My ex mother-in-law! Dear God, you are absolutely right! She does takes the number one position on my "hate list." Remember when I decided I wanted to go back to work? Russ told me that being a housewife and mother was my full time job and his mother agreed with him. Remember, when he told me to choose between staying married or going back to work? How about when she told him I couldn't exist without him? That I wouldn't be able to support myself ? That I would rue the day I mentioned going back to work before my children were grown? She took her son's side when I decided to return to work. Neither one of them could understand that being a housewife and mother was not enough of a challenge to keep me emotionally happy. Remember, God, when my lawyer told me that I was really divorcing her and not her son? How about the day she told my children that if I divorced their father, that meant I was an unfit mother? She really tried to make me lose my self-esteem as a mother and a person.
She was the person who instigated the investigation on my home life. I was never so humiliated and embarrassed as when I had to go down to the Civic-Center, meet with a probation officer who was looking into the allegations that I wasn't providing a proper home-life for my children. I'll never forgive her! The humiliation of having a probation officer, whose case load normally consists of criminals on parole, coming to my private home and questioning both of my children. He asked them if they were happy living with me? Did I ever leave them alone and was it really their choice to live with me? Checking on the nonsense that she reported. I really got even! I showed her that I didn't need her son to support me and that I could stand on my own two feet as a single parent. I raised my position at the telephone company from a corrected bill typist to the highest paying craft-job in the company.
I really worked hard! All those tests, but I never failed one! I still think of studying for the Switchman's Test and having to teach myself binary, octal and hexadecimal math functions, besides the LOGIC with its AND, OR , NOR gates. I suffered through three months of grueling intensive study, trying to teach myself something that had no meaning to me. How would this information apply to the job function? None of my co-workers, immediate supervisors or the personnel office could give me the information that I needed to have this material make sense. I was really lost until I went to the public library. I remember looking up switching in the card catalog, which lead me to technical books dealing with Solid State Switching Systems. Reading made all the studying I had done come to light; I finally understood what I had been studying and how it related to the different types of math and logic terms. Reading showed me that the answers to technical terms can be found in other sources if you persevere. Reading is my sense of identity. I take it for granted along with my other five senses. Thanks to my reading abilities, I was able to change my identity into a successful career woman. Despite everything my ex mother-in-law predicted, I also maintained the identity of a good mother, for my children.
Remember when I found out that I passed the written section on the Special Representative test and that I was now qualified for the next step? I crammed my head full of knowledge that time. I must have read every sales brochure and how to improve yourself in sales books that I could find before the BIG INTERVIEW. The interview proved to be one of the most nerve-wracking, grueling question and answer periods I ever experienced. I think the lady's name was hu-mm. . . God, I can't remember, yes you're right, Edith Young. The lady with twenty questions. What were my goals in life? What positions and departments within the telephone company had I worked? How many children did I have? What were my hobbies? When I told her my most favorite pastime was reading, and doing the New York Times crossword puzzle; she asked me to elaborate on the reading. I explained to her that reading was my greatest joy and I felt exhilarated by reading. Reading clears my mind from everyday pressures and allows me to escape into a world where someone else is in control. I compare it to listening to a concerto. The conductor (my mind), leading the orchestra (the words), interpreting the music written by the composer (the author). She asked me what type of literature I read? Then she requested a short written summary on any book I enjoyed reading. I remember thinking, a short summary of a book I enjoyed, what could she possibly want that for? Being put under pressure reminded me of Scarlett in Gone With the Wind. I knew that I couldn't say, "I'll worry about this tomorrow," so in short order I wrote her a summary of what turned out to be her favorite book. Well, needless to say, I passed her scrutiny and on my final interview she explained to me why she wanted a written summary. The person they were looking for had to be a highly motivated, energetic individual, who could work without any direct supervision and had good writing skills. She complimented my short summary and hired me on the spot. Thanks to my reading and writing skills I landed a new job, with an annual increase in salary of $12,000.
Well, God, if I didn't hate my ex mother-in law, I probably wouldn't have the unrelenting desire to prove to her that I could succeed in life without being married to her son. No, God, she's one person I can't forgive; besides if hate is the means that propels me forward I can use it. I still have eight more years of college. I wonder what she'll think of me then? I can compare my ex mother-in-law to Douglass' mistress. She first treated him as a human being (friend), before turning on him with the attitude her society set towards slavery. She was the catalyst that activated his desire to learn, which in turn lead to his freedom. My mother-in-law, was my friend, before she turned against me with her antiquated ideas about womanhood. She forced me to seek my own identity as a woman who needed more than just house and children to feel whole. I compare my years of marriage to her son with bondage. I sought a better life for myself. The adversity that I faced formulated my identity today as a hard working individual who will accept any challenge to raise her position in life.
God, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor? I have this paper due in my writing class and I'm stumped ! The good old Brain, doesn't want to cooperate and I sure could use some ideas on how to develop this writing assignment. Yes, I know reading comes as natural as my other five senses. I see my identity as a reader. I can depend on my reading skills to learn any subject and it provides me with my greatest source of entertainment. God, writing is the problem. Everything that you and I discussed earlier pointing out how writing helped shape my identity seems superficial. Yes, I understand that my writing skills have gotten me to this stage of my identity, but God, I want more. The only writing I do is business letters and sale proposals. There is no artistry, no expression and if I could borrow a word from a fellow classmate, Linda Campbell, there is no "embroidery." The kind of writing I do at work, leaves no room for reflection or expression. Since attending the Writing Studio, I have found that the type of writing we do in class frees my mind from the monotony of DEAR SIR: Writing allows me to think, reflect, express and expand on the thought and then to think and expand some more. (The length of this writing project has doubled from my rough-draft.) I still want to improve my identity again, God. I want to be considered a good writer. Right now I find it very difficult to express what I'm trying to say on paper. The words keep getting in the way and I find that they're not crisp and clean.
Writing this paper is causing me to really think, God. Remember when I was eighteen years old and started working at the telephone company as a keypunch operator? I was satisfied with the job; it presented me with a challenge to become the best operator in the department. Unfortunately, once I became proficient with the job I got bored. That is when I realized I needed a challenge to bring out the best in me and the telephone company provided it. I went from an entry level position to a senior accounting clerk within five years. Then I left the company to raise my family and I only returned to the job market ten years ago. The mechanization that took place within the telephone company replaced my previous job with a computer. The only way to get back into the company was for me to take another entry level job as a typist. God, remember how frustrated I felt when I had to start my career all over again? The challenge presented itself to me again, only this time due to the fierce competition within the company, it took me ten years to get back to the level I was at when I left to raise my family fifteen years prior. I have reached my peak within the phone company. God, don't get me wrong, I really love my job, but you know I need a challenge. How long before I get bored with this job? I need more education so I can confront the business world today and be prepared to meet the challenges offered. Thank you for all your help. Talking with you made me stop and think about my self-identity and how I can expand on that identity. Sure, I understand you're a busy man, God. Thank-you for helping me with this paper. God, before you go, please try to overlook this hate business. I wouldn't want it held against me when my time comes. You know I can't handle failures.
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It's 4:30 AM . . . ., oh well . . . , I have to get up in another hour anyway, I might as well start working on my writing paper. Maybe now that I'm relaxed, ideas will come to mind. My reading and writing skills to date have enabled me to become a person who is self-sufficient, able to rely on her abilities and thrive on challenges to obtain her objectives in life. My identity was changed through my reading and writing experiences by the gaining of self-confidence. This self-confidence gave me the strength to face the adversities that challenged me through out my life time. Reading and writing also provided me with the ability to obtain my present job at the telephone company. As a reader and writer I can define myself as an individual who is not satisfied with just mediocrity and realizes that these skills need improvement in order for me to face any new job challenges.
Chris Madden, our instructor suggested in the PAPER 1: PROFILE that writing this paper will result in getting to know your self better as a writer, reader, thinker and learner. My abilities as a writer, reader and thinker are not what I assumed before working on this assignment. Writing this paper caused me to reflect on those abilities and to come to the sensible conclusion that they need much improvement. I feel that being 45 years old is not too late to make major changes in my identity and I feel confident that I can meet the challenge.