Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Somehow I'll have to go on...

If I didn't love English class so much, I'd probably hate it.

I know, that sounds kind of obvious. But really, it took up so much time this year--reading, essay-ing, analyzing, thinking--and if every minute of it hadn't been full of utter awesomeness, I'd resent it for taking away time from writing my stories.

But I don't resent it, of course. English class this year wasn't just English class, it was Life class. Every day I found something outside of class that applied to the unit we were doing, and vice versa. We didn't just talk about words and books made out of them, we talked about humanity and ideas and morality (on a Kohlberg scale, for example). All of which, needless to say, are ideas I'll use in writing someday. (Also, a reason this class took up so much of my time was because I willingly spent more time on assignments because a) I wanted to do well and b) they were fun.) (Also x 2, I had one of the most awesome teachers ever, so, yeah, envy me.)

I had my English final today. Now I must endure two more days sans my favorite class. Not sure I'll make it. I feel all hollow inside. (Hence the title of this post.)

What do you think? How did/does English class contribute to your writing?