When I got to her final essay, however, I was so happy. This essay just seemed so natural, and not so forced. I loved how she was describing her roommate by using all the hyphenated adjectives. I loved the way she described herself as a 13 year old kiddo and as a college student. I believe voice is something everybody struggles to find, but once it is found, it translates so beautifully on paper.

    I believe that Jeremy is a very mature writer. It can be due to the fact that he probably has a whole different perspective on the world based on his childhood. I really enjoy reading his writing, because he does use bigger words, but he uses them in ways that will only help the reader develop. I believe that they will help the reader develop, because his writing inspires curiosity about the world. He is very unique, and a strong writer.

       As a writer, I think Lindsay has definitely developed. For example, when I look back at her first paper, I feel like she is still trying to find her voice. I don't get too much of a feel for it, because it's on an academic topic. However, when I read her final essay, I feel like I can pinpoint her paper out of a crowd because of her voice. It's so visible, and she writes in a way that the reader can definitely relate to. I think voice was something that she struggled a bit finding, but when she finally found it, she definitely used it in the best way possible.

        Elbow believes that students should be allowed to express themselves in papers, whether it be for school or for enjoyment. Honestly, this idea first scared me because I've always been taught the cookie-cutter model for writing. Set down a thesis, write the body, and finish with a conclusion. Is it possible to write in any other way?

      Now that this semester is coming to the end, I have realized that I don't need my teacher as much. I still need the guidance of my teacher now and again, when it comes to developing ideas and what not. However, when it comes to penning the ideas, I find that I have developed my own unique strategies for writing.

       However, now that I know the rules of grammar and how to play with words, I am not so sure I agree ENTIRELY with Bartholomae. Now, I almost don't even want to let a teacher workshop my papers. For example, in the beginning of the semester, my teacher asked the class what aspects of writing we don't like. I immediately said workshops because I feel like I don't need the guidance of a teacher anymore. I feel like Bartholomae's ideas about teachers in classrooms is quite valid, until a point. After a student learns all the rules and everything there is to know about writing, a teacher should let a student use the rules that they have learned at their own discretion.

WC 2441

The Sandwich

Final Draft

The Sandwich

                I am a 20 year old college student without a clue as to what I want to do. I can’t seem to grasp on to this certain energy that floats on campus. I go to class everyday, and I can feel the hopeful energy that surges on the campus. Students seem to float and bounce on the dreams that seem to carry them through their college careers. I remember one incident where I really felt the energetic, hopeful energy that college students seem to bounce upon. I was at this “ambassador” meeting for UNC (training for students to give school tours), and the students were giving introductions of themselves and what they want to do with their lives. When it was time for this particular girl’s turn, she grabbed the microphone and threw her shoulders back. She gave a flippant toss of her curls and began, “Well, I am currently a student…yes me!! After college, I plan on going to law school and becoming a blankity-blank blank attorney (she was throwing in fifty cent terms to describe what kind of attorney she wanted to become. I’m guessing she was trying to impress the lowly students.) After I become an attorney, I want to go on and rule the universe, and all of you will bow down to me!” She popped a pose, and sat down. “Dumb. Ass.” was all I thought.

                Why am I so cynical? Why can’t I seem to grasp on to the hopeful energy that seems to energize the entire campus? There was a certain event that changed my entire view of my student career and life. The following story entails a younger, energetic me, a professor, and the goddamn sandwich that changed my life.

                Before coming to UNC, I was a hard-working student at Morgan Community College. At MCC, it seemed like I carried everybody’s dreams on my shoulders. I was a young, energetic student ready to change the world. I ran for a position in the student government that would allow me to represent MCC at the state level. After weeks of campaigning and a grueling debate, I won the election. Everybody was so happy at the time…all I remember are the congratulatory phrases that were floating all about me: “I knew you could do it, I really believed in you…It’s your smile that really got to me, that’s why I voted for you…I know you’ll do a good job, that’s why my vote went to you,” and so on and so forth. I was also the editor for the school paper. I was able to decide what the students read and what they didn’t read. I “controlled” the way they should view some of the crucial issues at the moment. I remember a certain article I wrote. I think it was called something like, “All You Need is a Dream” or something like that. I wrote about why it is so important for students to become involved in school. I filled my text with so many uplifting stories that I think I convinced students that they really do have the potential to do what they want with their life (nothing wrong with that, I am not a complete jerk, but once you get to the sandwich detail you’ll understand why).  Finally, the biggest win for me while I was at MCC was being named the Outstanding Student Leader at MCC. I mean, whoo-wee sonny, MCC took this little unrefined girl, and named her the freaking outstanding student leader of the year?! My friends and family watched as my instructors talked about my talents and accomplishments. While they were introducing me, they talked about what I wanted to do with my life. One of my instructors informed the audience, “Well this young lady wants to go on to law school and become an attorney. Hopefully MCC gave her a foundation to build her dreams upon of becoming an attorney!” I beamed at the crowd as I thought, “Yes…me! I plan on going to law school and becoming a blankity-blank blank attorney” Wait a minute; doesn’t that sound eerily similar to another young hopeful?

                As my dreams of becoming a successful attorney carried me through my time at MCC, I began doing everything I needed to do to make my dream a reality. I was applying for scholarships to attend a university, I applied to several different universities, and I was already making my top picks for law school. As my graduation from MCC drew nearer, I was finally accepted at UNC! I was ecstatic! Not only was I the first person in my family to attend a community college, I was also going to be the first in my family to attend a real-live four year university! Holy. Freaking. Cow. Immediately after finding out that I had been accepted to UNC, I made an appointment to see the pre-law advisor. And here my friends, is where the story truly unravels.

                The day of the advising appointment began uneventful enough. I woke up, ate my usual breakfast of a cheesadilla, and began preparing the documents I needed for the appointment. As I headed outside to warm the car, I couldn’t help adding an extra bounce to my step. I sashayed over to my car, opened the door with extra flair, and turned the key in the ignition on. “Yea baby,” I thought, “with this car, I will drive to my destiny, and do everything I can to be everything that I want to be. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” I began driving down Highway 34, and the faces of my friends at MCC began to flash before my eyes. I saw my English instructor looking up and smiling at me. In her eyes, I saw all the faith she had in my dreams. It’s so humbling to think that somebody else believes in your dreams, in yourself, in your life. I saw my peers working towards the same goal that I had seemed to accomplish. I had broken out of the community college system, and I was finally going to play with the big kids. My car sped down Highway 34, and I finally made it to UNC. I was in awe as I entered the campus. It’s not like I hadn’t been to other colleges, but this college was leaving me in awe because it was MY college. I belonged to the institution, and this was where the beginnings of my career as a lawyer would take place. I parked the car, and I got out quickly. If I would have stayed any longer in my car, I think I would have started hyperventilating. I surveyed my scene, and walked to the building with confidence in my stride.

                I entered the building and looked around. I loved the way the doors to each of the classrooms seemed to hold a secret. I was more than ready to discover the mystery behind each of the doors, but I had an appointment to make. I nearly flew up the stairs to the professor’s office. I was giddy with excitement because I always imagined that the professor would step out to greet me with a lovely golden aura of a god. When I finally made it to the professor’s office, I was mildly disappointed. No golden professor waiting to greet me. How odd. The door to his office was open, so I popped my eager little head in. My eyes shined as I looked in on him, and he directed his gaze upward, towards me.  “Yes?” he asked. “Umm, I made an appointment to see you about pre-law advising?” I was beginning to sweat. He blinked, and suddenly he remembered, “Oh yes, I do remember now. But I have a student who’s coming in briefly to see me about a paper. It shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes. You’re more than welcome to wait outside my office.” He looked back down at his desk. I turned around, and hobbled like a penguin to a chair outside his office. I muttered under my breath, “Uh, well geez thanks, where the hell else was I supposed to wait? The fucking roof?” I sat dumbly as I watched a student steal into his office. I was slightly jealous of the student because he was already IN. He somehow got into the professor’s world, and he was on his way to a tangible future. While the professor and the student chatted, I noticed a book on a stand beside the chair. I picked it up, and noticed that it was a practice exam to the LSAT (the LSAT is the entrance exam to law school). I flipped through the pages and thought, “I’ll pass that with flying colors.”

                Finally, the professor and the student were done talking, and it was my turn to see the professor. The professor stuck his hand by the door and gestured me to his office. I picked up my folder filled with my accomplishments, and practically ran into his office. I sat down on the chair and let out a short breathe. “Well, what are we doing today?” he asked. What? Is he serious? Doesn’t he remember that he was supposed to be meeting with me about freaking pre-law advising? Didn’t I just tell him that a couple of minutes ago?! The hell was his problem?! I hid my thoughts behind a pleasant smile, “Well, we’re meeting today to discuss my interest in pre-law. After all, it’s why I made the appointment with you.” (Oh yeah! Point one for Beatriz!) I handed him my folder that contained transcripts from MCC, letters of recommendation, and accounts of accomplishments. He pushed it aside, and asked, “You do know that there isn’t a major for pre-law, right?” I leaned forward in my chair, because my ears didn’t comprehend. He caught on to that and continued, “At UNC, you declare a major and with that major, you will apply to law school.” I still didn’t understand. “Have you gone through the LSAT?” he asked. I squirmed in my chair as I realized that I had really only skimmed the surface of what it takes to become a lawyer, “No.” I answered. He sat back in his oversized chair, and looked up at the ceiling, “You know, I see about 100 students per year that are coming to UNC with the intent of becoming a lawyer. By the end of their college careers, about one to four of those students stay focused on becoming a lawyer. I’m not going to lie to you; I don’t see you as one of those students that stay focused on becoming a lawyer. For one, you haven’t gone through the LSAT, and it’s imperative that you look into practice tests as soon as your sophomore year of college. Have you ever thought of another career?” I’m going to hit pause right about now. Okay, what was his deal, man? I mean, all I wanted was to know what classes I needed to take, and this weasel-faced, goggle sporting man was going to offer career advice to me?! Now, I’ll hit the play button.  I couldn’t even muster a glance at the man in front of me and I stupidly answered, “Well, maybe a career as an English teacher wouldn’t be a bad idea…” The tears were welling up in my eyes, and I barely held them back just like my dad had always taught me. “Okay, well UNC has a great reputation for its teacher education program. Here, let me show you the building where you should be at.” With my head hanging low, I followed him as he walked me down the stairs, and pointed across the lawn to another building. “It was nice meeting you, and good luck with everything you do.” He beamed at me, and walked away. So much for the golden aura.

                I ran blindly to the parking lot. My head was swirling, and I wanted to throw up. I finally climbed into my car, and I sped off. I just wanted to get out of there. My tires squealed as I raced out of the campus, and back onto the highway. For some reason, I couldn’t feel a damn thing but hunger as I drove down ol’34. I drove into a gas station, and began my hunt for food. I walked in numb, and I somehow drifted to this greasy warming station that held interesting items of food. I settled on an oval item wrapped in reused aluminum foil. My legs mechanically led me to the cashier, I paid for the mystery of the aluminum foil, and I headed back on to the highway. When I opened the aluminum foil, I realized that it was just a sandwich. Just a sandwich stuffed with pepperoni, bell pepper, and Monterey Jack cheese. Just a neutral sandwich. Man, when I bit into that hot mess of a sandwich I really let it out. With the first bite of the sandwich, my mind suddenly realized that it had been violated, humiliated. My body responded by letting out a stream of tears. With each bite of the sandwich, I felt like I was taking a stab at each one of my idiotic dreams. The pepperoni stung my tongue, just as the stupidity of dreams stung my heart. Every time I tasted the mellow, passive flavor of Monterey Jack, I kicked myself mentally for allowing somebody to talk to me like that. The professor basically handed my ass to me. Maybe it wasn’t wrapped in aluminum foil, but he definitely handed my ass over to me. With each crunch of bell pepper, I pictured myself crunching and stomping all over my silly dreams. I cried the entire time I ate the sandwich, and I couldn’t have been at a lower point in my life. I mean, who seriously cries when s/he eats? It’s just stupid, but I did. I cried throughout the entire sandwich ordeal, and I still cried afterward.  Damn that sandwich.

                That particular event in my life has had a huge impact on me. I used to be the student that walked around like there wasn’t anything in the ground that would sink them in. Now, I watch each step I take to make sure that I don’t fall and sink into the ground. I doubt the praise that my professors give me because I remember the way the professor beamed at me when he wished me luck. I doubt nearly everything in my college career, which leads to my cynicism in students. However, in writing this memoir, I’ve realized that I can’t let ANYBODY tell me what I am capable of doing. I can’t bow my head down in defeat, and let the tears well up in my eyes. I have to be able to hold my head up high, and show the world what I am made of. I have to let go of this particular episode in my life, and believe in my dreams and everybody else’s dreams. Maybe someday I’ll be able let my dreams bounce me along in my college career.

WC 2441

The Sandwich

The Sandwich

                I am a 20 year old college student without a clue as to what I want to do. I can’t seem to grasp on to this certain energy that floats on campus. I go to class everyday, and I can feel the hopeful energy that surges on the campus. Students seem to float and bounce on the dreams that seem to carry them through their college careers. I remember one incident where I really felt the energetic, hopeful energy that college students seem to bounce upon. I was at this “ambassador” meeting for UNC (training for students to give school tours), and the students were giving introductions of themselves and what they want to do with their lives. When it was time for this particular girl’s turn, she grabbed the microphone and threw her shoulders back. She gave a flippant toss of her curls and began, “Well, I am currently a student…yes me!! After college, I plan on going to law school and becoming a blankity-blank blank attorney (she was throwing in fifty cent terms to describe what kind of attorney she wanted to become. I’m guessing she was trying to impress the lowly students.) After I become an attorney, I want to go on and rule the universe, and all of you will bow down to me!” She popped a pose, and sat down. “Dumb. Ass.” was all I thought.

                Why am I so cynical? Why can’t I seem to grasp on to the hopeful energy that seems to energize the entire campus? There was a certain event that changed my entire view of my student career and life. The following story entails a younger, energetic me, a professor, and the goddamn sandwich that changed my life.

                Before coming to UNC, I was a hard-working student at Morgan Community College. At MCC, it seemed like I carried everybody’s dreams on my shoulders. I was a young, energetic student ready to change the world. I ran for a position in the student government that would allow me to represent MCC at the state level. After weeks of campaigning and a grueling debate, I won the election. Everybody was so happy at the time…all I remember are the congratulatory phrases that were floating all about me: “I knew you could do it, I really believed in you…It’s your smile that really got to me, that’s why I voted for you…I know you’ll do a good job, that’s why my vote went to you,” and so on and so forth. I was also the editor for the school paper. I was able to decide what the students read and what they didn’t read. I “controlled” the way they should view some of the crucial issues at the moment. I remember a certain article I wrote. I think it was called something like, “All You Need is a Dream” or something like that. I wrote about why it is so important for students to become involved in school. I filled my text with so many uplifting stories that I think I convinced students that they really do have the potential to do what they want with their life (nothing wrong with that, I am not a complete jerk, but once you get to the sandwich detail you’ll understand why).  Finally, the biggest win for me while I was at MCC was being named the Outstanding Student Leader at MCC. I mean, whoo-wee sonny, MCC took this little unrefined girl, and named her the freaking outstanding student leader of the year?! My friends and family watched as my instructors talked about my talents and accomplishments. While they were introducing me, they talked about what I wanted to do with my life. One of my instructors informed the audience, “Well this young lady wants to go on to law school and become an attorney. Hopefully MCC gave her a foundation to build her dreams upon of becoming an attorney!” I beamed at the crowd as I thought, “Yes…me! I plan on going to law school and becoming a blankity-blank blank attorney” Wait a minute; doesn’t that sound eerily similar to another young hopeful?

                As my dreams of becoming a successful attorney carried me through my time at MCC, I began doing everything I needed to do to make my dream a reality. I was applying for scholarships to attend a university, I applied to several different universities, and I was already making my top picks for law school. As my graduation from MCC drew nearer, I was finally accepted at UNC! I was ecstatic! Not only was I the first person in my family to attend a community college, I was also going to be the first in my family to attend a real-live four year university! Holy. Freaking. Cow. Immediately after finding out that I had been accepted to UNC, I made an appointment to see the pre-law advisor. And here my friends, is where the story truly unravels.

                The day of the advising appointment began uneventful enough. I woke up, ate my usual breakfast of a cheesadilla, and began preparing the documents I needed for the appointment. As I headed outside to warm the car, I couldn’t help adding an extra bounce to my step. I sashayed over to my car, opened the door with extra flair, and turned the key in the ignition on. “Yea baby,” I thought, “with this car, I will drive to my destiny, and do everything I can to be everything that I want to be. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” I began driving down Highway 34, and the faces of my friends at MCC began to flash before my eyes. I saw my English instructor looking up and smiling at me. In her eyes, I saw all the faith she had in my dreams. It’s so humbling to think that somebody else believes in your dreams, in yourself, in your life. I saw my peers working towards the same goal that I had seemed to accomplish. I had broken out of the community college system, and I was finally going to play with the big kids. My car sped down Highway 34, and I finally made it to UNC. I was in awe as I entered the campus. It’s not like I hadn’t been to other colleges, but this college was leaving me in awe because it was MY college. I belonged to the institution, and this was where the beginnings of my career as a lawyer would take place. I parked the car, and I got out quickly. If I would have stayed any longer in my car, I think I would have started hyperventilating. I surveyed my scene, and walked to the building with confidence in my stride.

                I entered the building and looked around. I loved the way the doors to each of the classrooms seemed to hold a secret. I was more than ready to discover the mystery behind each of the doors, but I had an appointment to make. I nearly flew up the stairs to the professor’s office. I was giddy with excitement because I always imagined that the professor would step out to greet me with a lovely golden aura of a god. When I finally made it to the professor’s office, I was mildly disappointed. No golden professor waiting to greet me. How odd. The door to his office was open, so I popped my eager little head in. My eyes shined as I looked in on him, and he directed his gaze upward, towards me.  “Yes?” he asked. “Umm, I made an appointment to see you about pre-law advising?” I was beginning to sweat. He blinked, and suddenly he remembered, “Oh yes, I do remember now. But I have a student who’s coming in briefly to see me about a paper. It shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes. You’re more than welcome to wait outside my office.” He looked back down at his desk. I turned around, and hobbled like a penguin to a chair outside his office. I muttered under my breath, “Uh, well geez thanks, where the hell else was I supposed to wait? The fucking roof?” I sat dumbly as I watched a student steal into his office. I was slightly jealous of the student because he was already IN. He somehow got into the professor’s world, and he was on his way to a tangible future. While the professor and the student chatted, I noticed a book on a stand beside the chair. I picked it up, and noticed that it was a practice exam to the LSAT (the LSAT is the entrance exam to law school). I flipped through the pages and thought, “I’ll pass that with flying colors.”

                Finally, the professor and the student were done talking, and it was my turn to see the professor. The professor stuck his hand by the door and gestured me to his office. I picked up my folder filled with my accomplishments, and practically ran into his office. I sat down on the chair and let out a short breathe. “Well, what are we doing today?” he asked. What? Is he serious? Doesn’t he remember that he was supposed to be meeting with me about freaking pre-law advising? Didn’t I just tell him that a couple of minutes ago?! The hell was his problem?! I hid my thoughts behind a pleasant smile, “Well, we’re meeting today to discuss my interest in pre-law. After all, it’s why I made the appointment with you.” (Oh yeah! Point one for Beatriz!) I handed him my folder that contained transcripts from MCC, letters of recommendation, and accounts of accomplishments. He pushed it aside, and asked, “You do know that there isn’t a major for pre-law, right?” I leaned forward in my chair, because my ears didn’t comprehend. He caught on to that and continued, “At UNC, you declare a major and with that major, you will apply to law school.” I still didn’t understand. “Have you gone through the LSAT?” he asked. I squirmed in my chair as I realized that I had really only skimmed the surface of what it takes to become a lawyer, “No.” I answered. He sat back in his oversized chair, and looked up at the ceiling, “You know, I see about 100 students per year that are coming to UNC with the intent of becoming a lawyer. By the end of their college careers, about one to four of those students stay focused on becoming a lawyer. I’m not going to lie to you; I don’t see you as one of those students that stay focused on becoming a lawyer. For one, you haven’t gone through the LSAT, and it’s imperative that you look into practice tests as soon as your sophomore year of college. Have you ever thought of another career?” I’m going to hit pause right about now. Okay, what was his deal, man? I mean, all I wanted was to know what classes I needed to take, and this weasel-faced, goggle sporting man was going to offer career advice to me?! Now, I’ll hit the play button.  I couldn’t even muster a glance at the man in front of me and I stupidly answered, “Well, maybe a career as an English teacher wouldn’t be a bad idea…” The tears were welling up in my eyes, and I barely held them back just like my dad had always taught me. “Okay, well UNC has a great reputation for its teacher education program. Here, let me show you the building where you should be at.” With my head hanging low, I followed him as he walked me down the stairs, and pointed across the lawn to another building. “It was nice meeting you, and good luck with everything you do.” He beamed at me, and walked away. So much for the golden aura.

                I ran blindly to the parking lot. My head was swirling, and I wanted to throw up. I finally climbed into my car, and I sped off. I just wanted to get out of there. My tires squealed as I raced out of the campus, and back onto the highway. For some reason, I couldn’t feel a damn thing but hunger as I drove down ol’34. I drove into a gas station, and began my hunt for food. I walked in numb, and I somehow drifted to this greasy warming station that held interesting items of food. I settled on an oval item wrapped in reused aluminum foil. My legs mechanically led me to the cashier, I paid for the mystery of the aluminum foil, and I headed back on to the highway. When I opened the aluminum foil, I realized that it was just a sandwich. Just a sandwich stuffed with pepperoni, bell pepper, and Monterey Jack cheese. Just a neutral sandwich. Man, when I bit into that hot mess of a sandwich I really let it out. With the first bite of the sandwich, my mind suddenly realized that it had been violated, humiliated. My body responded by letting out a stream of tears. With each bite of the sandwich, I felt like I was taking a stab at each one of my idiotic dreams. The pepperoni stung my tongue, just as the stupidity of dreams stung my heart. Every time I tasted the mellow, passive flavor of Monterey Jack, I kicked myself mentally for allowing somebody to talk to me like that. The professor basically handed my ass to me. Maybe it wasn’t wrapped in aluminum foil, but he definitely handed my ass over to me. With each crunch of bell pepper, I pictured myself crunching and stomping all over my silly dreams. I cried the entire time I ate the sandwich, and I couldn’t have been at a lower point in my life. I mean, who seriously cries when s/he eats? It’s just stupid, but I did. I cried throughout the entire sandwich ordeal, and I still cried afterward.  Damn that sandwich.

                That particular event in my life has had a huge impact on me. I used to be the student that walked around like there wasn’t anything in the ground that would sink them in. Now, I watch each step I take to make sure that I don’t fall and sink into the ground. I doubt the praise that my professors give me because I remember the way the professor beamed at me when he wished me luck. I doubt nearly everything in my college career, which leads to my cynicism in students. However, in writing this memoir, I’ve realized that I can’t let ANYBODY tell me what I am capable of doing. I can’t bow my head down in defeat, and let the tears well up in my eyes. I have to be able to hold my head up high, and show the world what I am made of. I have to let go of this particular episode in my life, and believe in my dreams and everybody else’s dreams. Maybe someday I’ll be able let my dreams bounce me along in my college career.