As this school year comes to a close, I can’t help but reflect on my growth as a person–and more specifically as a writer, the evidence of which is in print on this paper. The Nexus transformed my confidence in my writing as it built upon the foundation that was laid in the English courses, specifically the three years I spent in Ms. Tanaka’s Honors English, Honors Humanities, and AP English Literature classes, and the one year in Mr. Wenger’s AP English Language class that shaped my voice. They helped mold my way of thinking, my critical analysis, and my creative connections. These teachers made me feel heard and understood when I thought my words spilled out like a bunch of bologna. Thus, I can thank these two teachers for allowing me to think and talk and write as myself authentically. I can also thank the courses themselves, these very special English classes, which hold an equally special place in my heart.
The beauty of these courses, and why I look back on them with adoration is partially due to the structure of the course. Many days were spent entirely in class discussions. The open-ended prompts or questions always left room for students to make their own interpretations or relate to their own experiences or connect to their own set of knowledge. Hence, no two students would ever have the exact same answer to any question, and this diversity of thought was celebrated. So, thank you, English classes for celebrating our individuality.
Not every class is built with a curriculum that allows students to dive further into their understanding of the world and themselves. Introspection put into words is not unique to humanities, but it is where introspection is most explored. If not for my English courses each year, I’d have a far weaker understanding of myself, my beliefs, my morals, and my thoughts. With this reflection, I thank you, English classes for guiding me to knowing myself.
Indeed, one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned in my English courses comes not from a book, but from the mind of Mr. Wenger: “Write yourself to understanding.” I once thought this was impossible. I thought, “How can I write anything without first understanding? How will I know what words to type out? What sentences can I write?” But I’ve since learned otherwise. I’ve written myself to understand novels, articles, and my own internal conflicts. Contrary to what most writing assessments ask of us, writing isn’t always about logging our fully formed ideas; it can be a conversation, and argument, with a final resolution. Putting problems to words forces me to complete my thoughts, to not leave any emotion not confronted, to not leave any claim unexplained. And these explorations often teach me more than a night of studying a textbook. Thank you for this tool which reveals my truth.
I’ve leaned further into the humanities than I initially anticipated in ninth grade, and I couldn’t be more happy. Writing, talking, and thinking are valued in these courses, and they changed me more as a person than any other class. Because here I wasn’t always seeking the correct answer. I was seeking the truth.
