Senior Portfolio: Reflection Essay
By: Madeline Meiers
Writing terrifies me. If I could choose between being trapped in a small enclosed space with thousands of spiders or having to write a paper, I would choose writing a paper, but I would hesitate. When I decided to become an English major, I thought I would spend all of my time reading books and correcting other people’s grammar, which are the skills I would need to achieve my dream job of being an editor. I did not want to take up the difficult task of writing myself, nor did I expect the English major to force me to do so. Much to my surprise freshman year, the English major did in fact require its students to write, and to write a lot. In fact, the department encouraged double majoring in English and writing since the two majors go so well together. Because I am also in the Honors College, however, I decided to take on writing only as a minor, which was terrifying enough.
But even though I consider myself primarily a reader rather than a writer, I have found that the writing experiences throughout my college career have shaped me the most. I can track my journey from fear to vulnerability to peace in my writing, although the path has been more circular than linear. The fear has never completely left, especially now as I plan for life after graduation, but I know that my journey does not end there. As I have witnessed these past four years, I can push past my fear to a state of peace, which will help me navigate my future as I continue to live out my personal mission.
During my freshman year at college, fear governed most of my actions. I was afraid I was not as good a scholar as my professors expected, so I stayed silent. I was afraid my peers would think I was stupid, so I kept my opinions to myself. I was afraid of failing, so I did not write more than I had to, even though I was one of the editors for Caesura. In this way, fear became the biggest definer of my life. Although I had considered myself a strong writer in high school, I found the college experience to be a more challenging arena. Here, other smart people who cared about writing surrounded me. On one hand, I was finally part of a community who shared my passions, with whom I could share in the joys of the written word! On the other hand, here were people who had the potential to make me look—and feel—bad.
I continued to be afraid, but with help from my professors and peers, I learned how to operate in spite of fear, as well as eradicate the fears that had no foundation. In the fall of my sophomore year, I took Creative Writing, where I had no choice but to come face to face with writing in more than one of its forms, the first being creative nonfiction. I had never heard of the genre before, but after doing the writing practices, I fell in love. The way I could use personal experiences to reveal a larger truth, or write about facts in a way that did not put people to sleep, interested me. Creative nonfiction wooed me into the camp of those who actually enjoyed writing, but then came the next few units in class: fiction, poetry, and script-writing. These genres shook my confidence in writing again, which did not have a firm foundation to begin with. Leaving behind the creative nonfiction I had grown to love to tread on unknown ground placed me right back into the hands of fear.
The fear reached its climax in Magazine Writing a semester later. Most of the students in that class were upperclassmen, and this was my first experience in an upper-level writing class. Although I liked to pretend I was a journalist when I was little, I quickly realized that that dream no longer occupied my thoughts. Composing query letters, writing for a specific audience, and actually sending out works for publication, all of which the class required, put my writing abilities and self-confidence to the test. I did not enjoy the stress and vulnerability that came with that class, but I made it through to the end. I was able to finish the work I had started, despite all the fear telling me that I could not.
Working past that fear required certain levels of vulnerability. In Magazine Writing, that vulnerability manifested in sharing my work in front of the class in order to get positive feedback. It meant putting myself out there, sending my pieces to different journals with the hope that they would find my writing good enough for publication. This form of vulnerability was difficult for me because I wanted to look smart and be successful. But from that experience none of my fears came true: my classmates did not make fun of me or treat me as less-than. Eventually being vulnerable became easier. I realized I not only had a story to tell, but I also wanted people to hear it. This goal came to fruition in the Creative Nonfiction class I took the next fall. Although taught by the same professor, my experience in this class seemed like the opposite of Magazine Writing. We had to write many papers, send pieces for publication, and present our work in front of the class just like in Magazine Writing, but in Creative Nonfiction I actually enjoyed doing it. It required the same amount of vulnerability, but this time I was ready for it. I cared about this genre, so I wanted to get better at it, which was worth the embarrassment of showing off crappy work sometimes.
It was in this class that I found the peace that can come with writing when one is honest with oneself. Writing is a great outlet for reflection and processing emotions and experiences. For example, the summer before I took Creative Nonfiction, my father lost his job as a pastor, meaning my family and I had to leave the church I had known all of my life. I still carried all the hurt from that experience with me into the semester, but through writing about it in class, I was able to let some of it go. Putting words to my pain and showing those words to others helped start the healing process. Not only did I find healing in writing, but also truth about myself I had never realized before. In writing a reflection for a different class, I realized that I projected my feelings onto God’s character. As a result, my disappointment in myself became God’s disappointment in me, even though that was not true. Through writing, however, I realized how wrongly I was thinking, and so I was able to work through those poisonous thoughts.
While my writing classes have done so much for me, I do not want to disparage the English classes I have taken, for they have changed me too. Classes such as American Renaissance and Austen and the Brontës taught me how to love literature I would not normally choose to read. In American Literature II, I learned to think from different perspectives through the works by minority authors we read. From all of my literature courses, I discovered my need for discussions over what I have read. Reading a book is not enough for me anymore—I also need to have intelligent conversations with others about the themes in the book and the lessons we can learn from it. The community outside of the English and Honors departments have driven this point home for me. Whenever I would try to share what I had read with my friends in my dorm, they would give me a sympathetic smile or confused laugh. I was not able to have conversations about literature with them like the ones in my English classrooms.
These experiences in my English and writing courses have shaped my ideas of what my vocation should be. No longer is my purpose simply becoming an editor. Though that would be an enjoyable job, I do not want to put my hope for a fulfilling future entirely in my employment. Besides, I have discovered that I am interested in more than just grammar and editing. Ever since I took History of the English Language, I have realized my interest in linguistics, so that is one path I could take. Also, from my research in immigrant memoirs, I am interested in TESOL. Although I have run out of time to pursue these passions in college, I can look into these topics more after I graduate, either through graduate school or other programs. I know that I love language, and I know that I love people, and so this major has shown me ways I can combine those two loves, whether that is through helping people write or teaching people how to speak English.
Overall, I am surprised by what I have learned. I did not just read cool stories and write papers. I learned how to think and notice things, to be able to discuss ideas with an open mind and gracious heart. I feel as if I have become more than one person through all the books I have read and people who I have come to know. All of this was possible because I acted despite fear. I learned how to be vulnerable, and as a reward, I received peace. Though the fear has never completely gone away, it has stopped controlling me. My actions are now my own, not fear’s, and I have no intention of giving them back.
Madeline Meiers is a senior Honors Humanities and English major. After graduation, she hopes to move to Denver with her friend and save money to travel the world. She is looking forward to choosing her own books to read and continuing to write.
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