The Gift of Writing by Arianna

The Gift of Writing by Arianna - November 2020 Scholarship Essay

In third grade my teacher encouraged writing. As gifted students we were told that writing would be necessary, as it was the basis of many assignments in secondary education. Everyday my teacher would display a prompt, picture, or excerpt on the smart board and creative or not, we were tasked to write. Sometimes we were asked to share but I was always quiet, hiding in the back of the class, hoping I wouldn’t be called on.

One day I walked in and took my seat. On the smart board was a picture of a man riding into battle, a dark and stormy field behind him. The prompt simply asked us to write what we thought happened before or after the picture. I set to work, putting pencil to paper, my mind flooding with ideas. Our teacher called time but I was still scribbling away, trying to get a few more sentences out. Then when Ms. Wong asked us to share, my hand shot up.

“Go ahead Arianna.”

I took a deep breath and shared my paragraph. I told a story about two sisters who had to protect their brother before a massive battle started. They were in the middle of a war. As tensions rose in the story I narrated the sky becoming darker, mimicking that in the portrait. I finished it off, with a splash of crimson on a white rose. Looking back on my work now it was elementary, but I could never be more proud of that story.

After class my teacher pulled me aside, she told me I had a talent and that I should continue writing. So I did. In fourth grade I joined an in-class club, where I wrote two short books, one telling the tales of a haunted hotel and the other following a kind of underdogs versus popular students archetype.

Now I’m a fourth year member of my school's news-magazine and I’ve written two of four essays required by IB. I don’t do much writing in the news-magazine anymore, I’m an editor now which involves lots of graphic design. But IB has put me through the ringer. Essay after essay I’ve analyzed everything from literary motifs to set design, meeting word count and citing research. Sometimes I miss the days where I could just write about whatever, not worried that my prose isn’t up to standard, but I also wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.

I don’t know how many times I could thank the educators in my life for helping my writing progress. Looking back on papers I wrote in freshman year sometimes I chuckle, remembering how I thought I reached my peak. My writing skills are constantly evolving as I have had to adapt to a new form with every subject. When I write History papers—my favorite subject—I’m ultra-analytical, backing up my thesis with evidence and arguments. For Theater, I’m more explanatory, mapping out my vision for a newly designed version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream clearly. All these years in school have taught me that writing is not just separated into fiction and non-fiction, but that it’s complex and has multiple faces.

I can’t wait until college, where writing gains a whole new meaning and purpose. I’m beyond grateful that education has instilled this love and passion in me, so often do students fail to become captivated by a task deemed tedious. But as my words flow onto paper I will never stop thinking of that moment in third grade, when I raised my hand and opened a door to my future.