Danni Springer
3 December 2013
Methods and Strategies for Teaching L.A.
Dr. Peterson
Personal Narrative
After
reading the article on personal narratives, brainstorming, writing
and rewriting, I still sit here at a blank. Watching the all-nostalgic “The
Cosby Show”, eating milk chocolate orange sticks, at the side of my journal, scrolling
through Instagram, sitting on the couch while my roommate cooks dinner in the
other room. I search for every possibility of procrastination, deeming it as
“inspiration”. I could write about my plans for after graduation and the fact
that I have no idea what I really want to do, just that I’ve applied for the
Teach for America program - and who knows what will come of that. I could write
about my sister, which is what I started with in the first place. I could write
about the attractive man that I met over Thanks-Giving, who gave
me a small chance at a cuddling fling and I denied him it. He didn’t ask for my phone
number, or on a date, and I had only known him for four days – three strikes, you’re out! I
could write about music, or rock climbing, or my love for reading. I could
write about my mission. I could
write about my experience of living on my own, officially, for the first time, or how difficult it was to learn a new language.
What
should I write about? What is something worth sharing? (Since, this will be
shared.) Something that I have a passion for, and care a lot about, I suppose.
I have lots of passions, and care for lots of things, so that should be easy,
right? I have a journal and blog full of experiences, and a notebook full of
things I love. Ranging from art to food, religion to education, books to movies, being outdoors to interpersonal relationships. Just pick one!
I
guess this is what they call “writers block”. Isn’t brainstorming suppose to
help?
What
is it about indecision, and that it seems to happen only to ourselves, and to
no one else? I use to be one of those people that had a plan, and never moved
from that plan. It was: go to college, get a degree, find a job, settle down,
and live the rest of my life quietly content. Simple and happy. However, lately, that plan
is less and less appealing. The more I review it, the more I want to cringe at
the thought of settling down in one place so abruptly! Maybe the part of life that teenagers go through after high school
of “finding yourself” and having a desire to get out and explore, was somehow
delayed in my genetic make up and that's why it's hitting me now. Imagine that! A
twenty-four-year-old, graduating in May, already having traveled to Europe,
lived in Central America and learned a second language, wanting to “find herself”
rather than find a job in her local school district. I would rather go
somewhere different, and experience something new. I feel that I have reached
the top of the totem pole in what St. George has to offer me, and I just feel
an inner irking to get out - knowing that there is nothing that holds me here, that
I’m at the only point in my life when I can
be selfish - it makes me ponder: why
stay here? Why not go somewhere new and gain experience? That is what the Teach
for America program offers, it’s in the field of education, therefore I would
still get to teach and work with children – something I’ve always wanted! That
part of the plan has not changed, and does not make me cringe. So, why not go?
What would be holding me back? Nothing.
Then
there’s my sister, who did not even finish her first semester of college,
barely graduated high school, has no goals, no ambitions, and no plans. Yet,
there she stands, perfectly happy with no progression. She has so much
potential! Either she doesn’t want to see it, or she is just blind in ignorance.
In which case, the question arises, is ignorance truly bliss? Perhaps, she is
scared. But, scared of what? Of failure? I am. Aren’t we all? What makes a
person charge into the arena despite the inner terror?
Relationships.
Another form of indecision. Does watching my sister make dumb decisions, make
me want to play more “hard to get”? This attractive male, why not just
let myself have a nonsense weekend fling? Why this “three strike” system? Is it
so that boys learn that I won’t put up with their immaturity, and that they should
treat me with respect? Or, is it to protect myself from the pain I see her go
through by putting up a wall? I’d like to think it’s not the latter. I’d like to picture myself confident.
Life is weird. What makes us who we are?
What makes us decide to do the things we do? More importantly, what makes a
person decide what to write about in a personal narrative?
People are interesting;
they have so many opinions, thoughts, and experiences that make them who they
are. How are we to say that we really know someone? Or even, that we really know ourselves?
My
roommate has long since finished her supper. The Cosby Show continues. My
orange sticks are half gone, my journal remains unopened, and Instagram… well,
it’s still there. I sit here wondering, “How many others have had the same
idea as me in writing their personal narrative?” and I begin typing, “After
reading the article on personal narratives…”
