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Ashley Harbold

Imaginative Literature

Professor Sunday

1 February 2021

Challenging Myself

As I exit my high school, I begin to question the decision I made. Senior year is supposed

to be easy and full of relaxing nights. I chose to take a writing course through a community

college nearby and by doing this, I would have a credit to transfer to college. Lots of kids in my

high school weren’t doing this, but some were. At first, I didn’t want to do this, the thought of

extra work right now was not appealing to me as I was in the lazy, final year of school. I made

the decision to take this class, knowing that it would benefit me in the future. I finally reached

my car in the student parking lot, put the keys in the ignition and dreaded the thought of driving

to Harrisburg Area Community College, the school where my course was taken. The drive was a

little over thirty-five minutes and all I wanted to do was head home. Writing could be a lot of

work sometimes, and when I was given a writing assignment in high school, I just wanted to get

it over with. Maybe writing in college would be different. Maybe the ideas would flow easier, or

maybe it would be just as hard.

I make the final turn into the school and the sense of unfamiliarity overcomes me. New

things scare me, and this was a big step for me. A young high school student going to take a

college course, it didn’t seem right. I park my car and get out, seeing I am fifteen minutes early I

make my way slowly to the doors. I wanted to be able to find my room without feeling rushed,

but I didn’t want to be too early. I walk through the big double doors; the acronym HACC is

written across them in red. I follow the directions the professor had sent out in an email and
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made it to room 216 with five minutes to spare. I push open the door and see a handful of

students sitting around the room. Most of the people I saw seemed to be older than me, likely

enrolled in this college, but I saw one or two people that seemed to be high schoolers like me.

Thankfully this wasn’t a lecture hall, it reminded me of a normal classroom. This aspect made it

much less intimidating since I was used to this kind of setting. I quietly step towards the right

side of the classroom and sit in the third row, two seats in. Looking up at the board I see the

name of the class and the professor written out. As each minute went by, a few more students

would enter the room, each finding their way to an open seat. When the clock finally read 1:00,

the professor stood up from her desk and began her introduction. This professor reminded me of

a typical college professor that you would see in a movie. She had light brown hair, tied back in

a bun, and she wore glasses. My mind drifted off while this was going on, and I began to worry

about the upcoming work that was going to be assigned. This class was definitely going to be a

challenge for me, but I knew this from the beginning. As I tuned back into the professor, I hear

her talking about the literature we will be reading in this class. Many of the titles were foreign to

me, but some sounded familiar. I knew interpreting these kinds of pieces and writing papers on

them would be out of my comfort zone. Challenging myself was something I tried to do, but I

never wanted to fail, so sometimes this kept me from pushing myself. Sometimes I thought I

would rather do good than do something hard and not receive the grade I wanted. But I had made

the decision to challenge myself and take this course. I knew in the long run that it would be

good for me.

Now back at home, I sat on my bed and looked at my blank computer screen. In class

today we had read over our first piece of literature. We took notes on our thoughts about the

content and wrote down some ideas for the first draft of the paper we had to do for homework. I
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had no idea how to communicate my thoughts into this paper, much less get a good grade on it.

The struggle began, and I was already feeling defeated. I wasn’t sure how to effectively write

what I wanted to write. After twenty minutes of confusion, I finally got my spark. I had reread

the piece of literature and began to feel that writer’s connection to it. My fingers typed out two

pages rather quickly, the ideas were flowing, and my hidden confidence began to slightly shine

through.

As the class progressed, the professor assigned longer and more complicated literature to

us with harder writing prompts in place. I would read and reread to the books or pieces, waiting

to feel that spark of understanding. For some stories, it took longer to write papers than others,

but as I kept doing this, I could feel my relationship with writing grow. I could now read the

literature through one time, feel that deeper connection, and translate that into writing a lot easier

than writing the first few papers. As I felt these things, I knew my writing was becoming

progressively better each paper. The experience I had with writing began to change, and I could

see this clearly through my papers and the grades I was receiving. The professor really enjoyed

the writing pieces I had been turning in, making me excited to write more. I believe each paper I

turned in, more of me could be seen through the writing.

The last day of class was today and I honestly couldn’t believe it. This fifteen-week class

went by a lot faster than I had anticipated. I headed into the building, my final paper in my hand.

I was ready to turn it in, I was proud of the work that I had done over the course of this class. In

the beginning of this journey, I had little confidence in writing about literature that seemed to be

on the more difficult side. After the time that I had spent in this class, I realized that I could do it

as long as I believed in myself and worked hard. I opened the door to room 216 one last time and

headed to my usual seat. As class started, the professor began to give the “wrap up speech” that
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all professors do. She began by congratulating all of us on what we had accomplished. She asked

for our papers and I handed mine to the girl in front of me, then grabbed the boy’s paper behind

me and handed that up as well. Since I took the leap of faith and joined this class, my writing has

dramatically changed. I gained confidence in my writing in ways I didn’t think I could before I

started this journey. It opened my eyes to the possibilities that writing can create and how your

writing is whatever you want to make it. The class was supposed to end at 2:30, but the professor

decided to end the final class early and let us all go home. I stand up at the desk and begin to

pack my things. I have a good feeling in my chest, I feel accomplished and I feel like I have

grown throughout this class and challenged myself through the writing process. I put my books

in my bag and grab my keys out of the zipped part of my backpack. I say goodbye to the

professor and make my way towards the door. I continue to reflect on this class as I head towards

my car one last time. I thought about how scared I was in the beginning of all of this and I

thought about my writing style on day one. I thought about my relationship with writing,

knowing that I really grew as a writer over this time. I knew that when writing in future classes

or even for fun, I would use the confidence I gained throughout this class and write my own

powerful pieces. Since the first day of this class, I told myself the challenge would pay off, and it

definitely did.
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Revisions:

All revisions are highlighted

I added a little bit more detail to the first paragraph because I felt like it needed a little more
explanation of why I did not want to take the writing course. I added a little bit of my fear going
into it and my thoughts behind my fear. On the beginning of page two, there was two sections
that I added more detail to. I decided it would be good to describe the people in the classroom so
that the reader could understand who else was taking the class. I also added a small detail about
the way the professor looked so the reader could visualize her. I felt like both of these additions
would be nice for the story so the reader can feel more involved. At the bottom of page 2, I
added my reasoning behind not wanting to push myself sometimes. I think adding this would
help the reader see my emotions more and understand where I was coming from. In addition to
these revisions, I made smaller revisions throughout the piece just to make sentences sound
better or flow nicer. I did not make any other major changes.