English has never been my favorite subject. In fact, it has always been my least favorite subject. Going through school, I often wondered why I needed to do so many English related tasks, and in wondering, I learned to detest the subject without realizing its future benefits. Why do I dislike English so much? Is it such a dreadful thing to learn? Isn't learning how to correctly write and interpret the English language important? Well, no and yes.
No, English is not a dreadful thing to learn. I suppose my dislike for the subject has become greater through the eighteen some years that I have been learning the different components of the English language. It wasn't actually learning how to speak English that bothered me, my dislike for English began to form when I began getting English education in a formal learning environment. That's when I remember elementary school. I don't recall disliking English then. It was more like I was learning new things - things that I did not learn at home or in pre-school - like reading, writing, and grammar. It felt good to finally know how to read and write (and I suppose it felt good to have knowledge of a little grammar too). These were things that once I learned them, I was using them everyday. Not only did I use the knowledge to read a story in reading class or to do a writing assignment, but to maybe read the newspaper and write a note to a friend as well.
However, then came junior high school. I believe this was when I began to really dislike English classes. Not only was I faced with the same long, boring
grammar assignments that I was exposed to in elementary school, but I also had to start reading long (or what I thought was long back then) books on topics that didn't really excite me. To top that off, I had the first of a long line of crazy (well, maybe they weren't crazy, but they sure seemed like it at the time) English teachers.
Why does it seem that most English teachers have a screw loose somewhere? Is it just a act, or is dementia a prerequisite to becoming an English teacher? My seventh grade English teacher, Mrs. Garbarino, had this thing with being the chief and the class being the Indians. Whatever she said, we were to follow. Then came eighth grade. Ms. Spell my English teachers name that year (kind of ironic: Ms. SPELL, ENGLISH teacher). Ms. Spell had this obsession with Robert Redford. Every time someone knocked on the classroom door, she would ask the class if it was Mr. Redford. Unfortunately for her, it never was and for the remainder of the class period, Ms. Spell would discuss with the class her obsession. In ninth grade, I had a Mr. Hoest (pronounced "Host"). Mr. Hoest was a pretty cool guy, except when it came to the topic of sex. He loved to discuss it, as well as do a bit of innocent flirting with some of my female classmates. I will never forget the field day he had with "Romeo and Juliet." Mr. Hoest did have his share of flaws, but I must admit that he was probably my favorite English teacher (getting an "A" or two might have something to do with this). Tenth grade came along and brought a Ms. West with it. Ms. West liked to call everyone "sweet puttuty." That class became one that I could blow-off. As a student in her class, I was required to read some material. Often in the class,
people did not have there reading or other assignments done. If the whole class come out and said that they did not have enough time, or that something was too hard, she would cave in and extend the deadline. The only problem with this flexible policy was that it happened every time something was due. Most of the time, we could get Ms. West to let us do anything. Sometimes she would even just not require us to turn in assignments if others did not turn them in. This all pretty much turned into a waste of a year of English. Although I did not learn much from the lady, I still enjoyed being in her class. For the...
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