On Missed Opportunities

You know, I don't think I was ever formally instructed on how to write an argument? Granted, I've been naturally gifted with contrariness - a claim none of you will debate, I'm sure, but no one ever sat me down and explained the finer points of literary persuasion to me. I kind of wish someone had. I still don't feel I have an excellent grip on the concept if just because I've never had to learn. The writing I've produced has been good enough to pass myself through high school, 1010 and 2010 without a lot of effort, so my actual understanding of the construction involved is less stellar than it really should be.

I do remember my first introduction to the subject matter. It was Mr. Shoemaker's eighth grade composition class, and I made a point of sitting in the back and quietly doodling through the hour. It was easier to tune my teachers out that way. I looked up, and he was mapping out some sort of vague explanation to what an argumentative essay was and how it differed from a demonstrative essay. This interested me. I thought the definitions were self-explanatory, but the idea of writing with the aim of changing a person's mind seemed to imbue language with a power and resonance I had not previously afforded it. It seemed relevant. More importantly, it seemed like something I might want to try.

We got our homework assignments. I don't remember what it was on. Construction of some argument or other, I'm sure. I spent the afternoon dreaming up what I would say, how I would support it, and how brilliant I would sound; I was enraptured with the idea of the praise and respect that would follow my God-given verbosity. It meant something to me. Then, for whatever reason, I got home and just.. never did the paper. Never even tried.

I don't often slave as feverishly over the content of my papers as I did that afternoon, but the attraction holds fast. I still see myself in the best possible terms when I look through a literary tint. I still feel better about myself, more powerful, brighter and more independent when I compose a persuasive piece. Something about the idea of changing minds with words, just words, remains novel to me. I don't pursue that the way I should. Maybe I should start.

Maybe the fact that I never properly learned is my fault, and maybe it boils down to that one afternoon. I dunno. I still don't know why I gave up before I started, especially with a predilection for the gravity of language. Making the transition from 1010 to a more demanding 2010 was good for me, but I certainly wasn't instructed on the basics - and why should I have been? A higher level of proficiency was expected of me, and I happily delivered. I just didn't entirely know what I was doing.

(Do I ever?)

It's weird to think of myself in terms of an "English major" while still wrestling with some of the more basic concepts. My capacity for independent analysis has grown by leaps and bounds this year, and I think working in the center has tightened up a lot of the basic skills I've let slide, but I should still really go back and start fine tuning it myself. I will never know why some of the things I want the most are the things I'm most willing to slack on.

All the same, I wish I had stumbled my way into the classroom of someone deeply passionate before I got to Weber. It does bother me to think that I could be so much more advanced than I am right now, employing more sophisticated devices and developing more respectable papers. I missed out on a very basic building block, and it does sting.

But no time like the present, I guess. Maybe I'll spend my winter break writing about cylons and goddess worship.