Dear Reader, I began this assignment not really caring much for it.

It seemed like another boring essay-type regurgitation of concepts Id only need to keep in my head for one semester, if even that long. In fact, I started writing the first draft only a few days before it was due, during the lab session, while Ms. Parsons was instructing us about something (Sorry, Ms. Parsons!) But when I started writing, I realized I wasnt even thinking much about the mechanics or nuances of literature that I have been trained to consider while writing; the subject matter of this paper is, without a doubt, something that is entirely mine. It is rare for me to be able to write with this much honesty and genuine interest, because too often, Im writing about something I care little about or something I do not understand, or only understand in theory. When I got my first draft back with the teachers comments, I was glad that she had such positive feedback. Honestly, even though I knew I had written as honestly and as explicitly as possible, I felt like I had totally missed the point of the paper; to describe a literacy. I thought Id devolved into mere story-telling rather than answering the prompt. I read my paper a few times, and I tweaked a few things here and there. I finally implemented formatting, MLA, all that stuff. Then I put it aside. My peer feedback was generally positive; Tiffany and Garret both thought that I had described my world vividly and passionately. Garret said that he didnt really get what my literacy was supposed to be, while Tiffany said she felt me perfectly, so I was a bit confused; I did some more re-reading, and organized a few things so that coherency was improved. The title was the hardest part, for how do you sum up something that courses so deeply through your soul, something that is entirely honesty and somewhat self-deprecating humor into a single sentence, a few words, a trifle? I finally settled on Prospekts March, because the progression of that

song felt right to me. It felt somewhat aligned with my feelings, my emotions, my memories. If you havent heard it, I strongly suggest you listen to it. My final draft is not at all a masterpiece or anything; Im just an 18 year old college freshman, whatever I do or write still isnt very mature. But it is definitely something. Something very real, something very much a part of me. I am proud of it, and I have not felt this pride for something that has come from me in quite some time. I hope you enjoy what I wrote.

-Shounak Dattagupta