English has never been my favorite subject. In fact, it has always
been my least favorite subject. Going through school, I often wondered why
I needed to do so many English related tasks, and in wondering, I learned
to detest the subject without realizing its future benefits. Why do I
dislike English so much? Is it such a dreadful thing to learn? Isn't
learning how to correctly write and interpret the English language
important? Well, no and yes.
No, English is not a dreadful thing to learn. I suppose my dislike
for the subject has become greater through the eighteen some years that I
have been learning the different components of the English language. It
wasn't actually learning how to speak English that bothered me, my dislike
for English began to form when I began getting English education in a
formal learning environment. That's when I remember elementary school. I
don't recall disliking English then. It was more like I was learning new
things - things that I did not learn at home or in pre-school - like
reading, writing, and grammar. It felt good to finally know how to read
and write (and I suppose it felt good to have knowledge of a little grammar
too). These were things that once I learned them, I was using them
everyday. Not only did I use the knowledge to read a story in reading
class or to do a writing assignment, but to maybe read the newspaper and
write a note to a friend as well.
However, then came junior high school. I believe this was when I
began to really dislike English classes. Not only was I faced with the
same long, boring grammar assignments that I was exposed to in elementary
school, but I also had to start reading long (or what I thought was long
back then) books on topics that didn't really excite me. To top that off,
I had the first of a long line of crazy (well, maybe they weren't crazy,
but they sure seemed like it at the time) English teachers.
Why does it seem that most English teachers have a screw loose
somewhere? Is it just a act, or is dementia a prerequisite to becoming an
English teacher? My seventh grade English teacher, Mrs. Garbarino, had
this thing with being the chief and the class being the Indians. Whatever
she said, we were to follow. Then came eighth grade. Ms. Spell my English
teachers name that year (kind of ironic: Ms. SPELL, ENGLISH teacher). Ms.
Spell had this obsession with Robert Redford. Every time someone knocked
on the classroom door, she would ask the class if it was Mr. Redford.
Unfortunately for her, it never was and for the remainder of the class
period, Ms. Spell would discuss with the class her obsession. In ninth
grade, I had a Mr. Hoest (pronounced 'Host'). Mr. Hoest was a pretty cool
guy, except when it came to the topic of sex. He loved to discuss it, as
well as do a bit of innocent flirting with some of my female classmates. I
will never forget the field day he had with 'Romeo and Juliet.' Mr.
Hoest did have his share of flaws, but I must admit that he was probably my
favorite English teacher (getting an 'A' or two might have something to do
with this). Tenth grade came along and brought a Ms. West with it. Ms.
West liked to call everyone 'sweet puttuty.' That class became one that I
could blow-off. As a student in her class, I was required to read some
material. Often in the class, people did not have there reading or other
assignments done. If the whole class come out and said that they did not
have enough time, or that something was too hard, she would cave in and
extend the deadline. The only problem with this flexible policy was that
it happened every time something was due. Most of the time, we could get
Ms. West to let us do anything. Sometimes she would even just not require
us to turn in assignments if others did not turn them in. This all pretty
much turned into a waste of a year ...