The Day I Stopped Enjoying Writing

Wake up Sharat, wake up wake up wake up my mom continued to yell as I

opened my eyes. Her usual frantic morning face had become a regular sight when she
tried to wake me up. As I began to stretch, I took a look at the clock near my bed that
read 6:00 am. Pleased that I had about an hour to get to school, I took my time getting out
of bed and brushing my teeth. Then I got my clothes off and jumped into the shower. As
the first drop of hot water touched my body, I woke up. Now, I was energized and ready
to tackle the school day. That was when it hit me: I realized that today was the 4th grade
writing test. Since I had always been a great student with stellar grades, I thought to
myself Oh yeah, I have a writing test today. Whatever, if its anything like the EOG, I
should do fine. Little did I know that today would be the day that I would no longer
enjoy to write and would begin to consider writing a pain.
I got out of the shower, quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs. I arrived
downstairs to my usual two homemade waffles swimming in syrup and a glass of milk.
After devouring the meal and finally having some sugar rushing through blood, I was
ready to catch the bus. As I got on the bus and started making my way to the backrow, I
began to wonder what I would have to write about. My teacher, Mrs. Willis, said that we
would have to write a story and that would be all. As I sat in the darkness of the bus,
passing light post after light post, I continued to think about this upcoming test.
After a 15 minute bus ride that felt like an eternity, I finally saw the Weddington
Elementary School sign that was as usual illuminated by a bright white light it read
Good Luck to all 4th graders taking the writing test followed by Go Wildcats! I made
my way through the parking lot navigating through the crowds of clueless

kindergarteners and vicious looking fifth graders. I did much of the same in Weddingtons
narrow patterned brick hallways until I had reached the dreaded classroom of Mrs. Willis.
Mrs. Willis was a particularly cruel and terrifying teacher. While other fourth
grade teachers would take their students to recess every day and even play games with
them, Mrs. Willis would only take us to recess depending on her mood and if she went,
we would only go for about 15 minutes and then would be called back inside for menial
tasks such as math timed tests and silent reading.
When I walked into her room that day, Mrs. Willis was, as predicted, on her skyblue Macintosh computer checking her emails for the day. Her large bottom barely fit in
the rolly-chair which caused her to look even larger than she usually did. As each student
walked in she would turn to the doorway, and stare eye to eye with that student as if
trying to instill her daily dose of fear into the helpless fourth grader. Who could forget her
gaze that felt as if she was looking into your soul? The desks were not in our usual pods
today, they were in rows that snaked along up and down the white plastered brick room.
Trying to avoid her gaze, I made my way to my cubby which was unfortunately near her
desk. Trying not to gag on her terrible old-lady perfume(smelled like road kill), I put my
things in my cubby and set off to find my desk. I walked up and down the rows and found
my desk in the corner which was directly in front Mrs. Williss podium.
Just as I sat down, the bell rang and class began. Soon after the bell, the fifth
graders began saying the pledge of allegiance and the announcements. Once they were
done, Mrs. Willis who was visibly irritated, slowly made her way up to the podium with a
clear-plastic box that had booklets in them. She dropped the box on the podium and
began to read from a booklet to the class.

Today you will be taking the fourth grade writing test, she said monotonously,
periodically looking up to see if there were any students she could reprimand for not
paying attention. Please take out a number 2 pencil and eraser both of which were lost
in a jungle I liked to call my desk. I raised my hand. She looked up and sarcastically said,
Let me guess, you dont have a pencil. Being an innocent fourth grader, I nodded my
head and then looked at my shoes trying to avoid her petrifying gaze. After providing me
with a pencil, she continued.
I will now hand out your booklets, do not open them until you are told to do so.
She marched up and down the row handing each of us a booklet that had our name on it.
Once they were all handed out, she made her way back to the front, told us to open our
booklets, read the prompt, and begin working.
I opened the booklet and the prompt lay right there before me. It read Imagine you were
walking outside and you saw a huge tree. When you got closer, you noticed
that there was a small door in the side of the tree. You opened the door. Write a story about what
happened the time you saw a huge tree and opened the door. Thousands of ideas began
rushing to my head. I continued to weed through the possibilities until I had reached one
that I knew I would enjoy writing about. I decided that on the other side of the door was a
spy facility. I had walked into MI-6 and was now an agent on a mission to save humanity
from a diabolical villain by the name of Dr. Willis who planned to blow up the world.
I began by planning my essay on the blank sheet of paper I was given. Soon after,
I put pencil to paper and began writing. About ninety minutes later, Mrs. Willis yelled,
STOP. Put your blank sheet inside your booklet and close your booklet. This is a fiveminute break. Following her directions to the point, I did that as quickly as possible then

got up and stretched while staring at my peers around me trying to gage what the others
were thinking of the test. The break is now over, you may open your booklets and
continue working, barked Mrs. Willis as I reopened my booklet.
I continued to write then erase and then write some more until I knew I had my
story perfect. I read over three times like Mrs. Willis preached to then closed my booklet.
The next hour consisted of me drawing, making faces at my friends, and staring at some
of the posters that were peppered across the white plaster wall. Finally Mrs. Willis came
back up her podium and yelled STOP that is the end of the test, please close your
booklet and pass them forward. Thank you for taking the fourth grade writing test.
A few days after the test, I got called to the principals office. This being my first
trip to his office, I was terribly frightened. My usual confident walk had now become a
walk of shame where I just stared at the floor. I knocked on the large wooden door that
led to his office. He opened it. Much to my surprise I found my mother there as well. Her
face was full of concern and I knew that whatever I had done was not anything to be
proud of.
Sharat please take a seat said Mr. Sabrinsky. As I sat down, Mr. Sabrinsky
stayed standing. His large build made him seen larger than life. He said It is with great
sadness that I have to say that you did not pass your writing exam. My heart dropped.
My mom just continued to look at me not knowing whether to scold me or comfort me.
The principal continued by saying I dont know what happened. You are one of
the brightest students in the fourth grade. You will be given a chance to take the test again
in a few weeks. If you fail again, I will have no choice but to make you retake the fourth

grade. I mustered enough courage to say Im sorry then slowly got up, looked at my
mother and left the room.
When I got home that night, my parents sat me down and asked me what
happened. I told them I wrote a cool story. They went on by saying that I should practive
writing a couple of times so that I am ready for the test when it happens again. As a
punishment, I wrote at least 10 storys from random prompts my parents found online.
Approximately three weeks later, I got called into the guidance counselors office
to take the dreaded test again. This time they had changed the prompt and I did my very
best to write a credible story that I knew would pass. Although, the story did not get my
seal of creative approval it did get enough to earn me 3 and a pass to go to the fifth grade.
For me up until this point, writing had always been a medium through which I
could express myself. It allowed me to put my feelings into words. Failing this exam
made me feel as if there is only one correct way to write. That feeling stuck with my for
quite a long time. Till this day, when I write papers I deal with critics on my shoulder
telling me that I am not writing correctly and that I dont know the right way to write a
paper.

Work Cited Page

"2005 North Carolina Writing Grade 4." (n.d.): n. pag. NC Public Schools. North Carolina
Public Schools. Web. 15 Sept. 2015.
<http://www.ncpublicschools.org/docs/accountability/testing/writing/2005writingpromp
tg4.pdf>.