If you have read my profile on the side of the blog, you know that writing is not one of my better skills. It is not that I do not have good thoughts or even know the rules. My problem is that whatever I write, my brain fixes the mistakes when I read it over. It adds (I had - or leaves off) an occasional "S'" or "K", it will complete sentences that are fragments and in general fill in what my mind wanted on paper (or screen) but was not conveyed to my fingers with the assistance of my eyes.
Today I submitted a blog to a blog journal and I think I submitted the email to the journal with "journal" misspelled as I read the entry, to an English professor no less. I have feared English teachers and professors since I can remember. I still get cold chills when I remember 3rd grade spelling test and sentence diagrams on the blackboard.
Being unable to read until I was twelve did not help my ability to recognize nouns and verbs, let along dangling participles (whose importance, I understand, is now under debate in language circles.) Even after I learned to read and in turn read my own writing, I still dreaded English. I is amazing how much I could cover up with a well-tuned memory. In high school I was in all the honor classes except English. I just could not face the humiliations of the papers returned with more red ink than I had written in black ink. My high school senior history teacher wrote at the end of one of these bleeds that "your memory is just short of photographic, but you will need to have a secretary when you get a job."
In college I had to take 7 composition courses before I could pass the required two, and I think I passed the last one because the professor took mercy on me and because my writing hand was in a splint from a work-related accident. Even though I finished my undergrad, received a MDiv, have 18 hours of doctoral work and spend 60 percent of my work life writing, nothing bring me more anxiety than to have an English teacher scrutinize my writing.
I have crawled into burning cars as a paramedic. I have searched in gang territory for a child of a church I served after he had been threatened death by a gang. I have been hijacked in Bombay, India by three men, who took me from the domestic airport to the international airport, until I gave them all the cash I had including 5,000,000 Turkish Lira (about $4.) These experiences are nothing to compare with having an English language professional (I had - a professional of the English language) point out what I have done wrong.
It is not that I do not want to know what I have done incorrectly. I do. It's that I feel like that scared, ignorant 3rd grader every time I have my writing reviewed by a expert. At the same time, there is something in me that keeps me writing and seeking help.
"Hey FD, will you edit this?"
Today I submitted a blog to a blog journal and I think I submitted the email to the journal with "journal" misspelled as I read the entry, to an English professor no less. I have feared English teachers and professors since I can remember. I still get cold chills when I remember 3rd grade spelling test and sentence diagrams on the blackboard.
Being unable to read until I was twelve did not help my ability to recognize nouns and verbs, let along dangling participles (whose importance, I understand, is now under debate in language circles.) Even after I learned to read and in turn read my own writing, I still dreaded English. I is amazing how much I could cover up with a well-tuned memory. In high school I was in all the honor classes except English. I just could not face the humiliations of the papers returned with more red ink than I had written in black ink. My high school senior history teacher wrote at the end of one of these bleeds that "your memory is just short of photographic, but you will need to have a secretary when you get a job."
In college I had to take 7 composition courses before I could pass the required two, and I think I passed the last one because the professor took mercy on me and because my writing hand was in a splint from a work-related accident. Even though I finished my undergrad, received a MDiv, have 18 hours of doctoral work and spend 60 percent of my work life writing, nothing bring me more anxiety than to have an English teacher scrutinize my writing.
I have crawled into burning cars as a paramedic. I have searched in gang territory for a child of a church I served after he had been threatened death by a gang. I have been hijacked in Bombay, India by three men, who took me from the domestic airport to the international airport, until I gave them all the cash I had including 5,000,000 Turkish Lira (about $4.) These experiences are nothing to compare with having an English language professional (I had - a professional of the English language) point out what I have done wrong.
It is not that I do not want to know what I have done incorrectly. I do. It's that I feel like that scared, ignorant 3rd grader every time I have my writing reviewed by a expert. At the same time, there is something in me that keeps me writing and seeking help.
"Hey FD, will you edit this?"
Sure, Husband, I fixed it all and highlighted some changes I made. I'll continue to do so whenever asked. I don't want you to worry too much about this, though, for it is one of your few weaknesses, and your strengths more than compensate. Love, FD.
Thanks FD, I can use all the help I can get. I did comment on some of the changes we discussed.
5 comments:
OK--I will give you my secret. I write my post in Word first, it highlights all my errors, I correct them, then copy/paste to my blog..there, now everyone knows my secret :)
Substitute "math" for "English" in your tale, and you'll have the story of my youth. If you ever need a proofreader, feel free to call upon me. I've been polishing the prose of others for decades, and I've enjoyed every moment of it!
Hi - I hope it is ok that I linked to you. :)
Hey, PT Pastor! As the English professor of whom you're frightened, can I talk about how sick I am of having people be scared of me because I'm an English professor? I personally *hate* correcting people's errors; I only do it when I'm being paid for it, and then I take no pleasure in it, however necessary it may be in certain settings.
Also, substitute "sports" for "English" in your post, and you've got my life in a nutshell. (Math's a close second.)
And I'm taking your post for the carnival, by the way!
It's each person's "quirks" that make them unique & interesting. Some of the greatest minds in history suffered learning disabilities or difficulty with language/writing skills. I grew up overseas, speaking several other languages besides my English, due to being a diplomatic-brat. When we spent a brief tour in the USA, I was sent to "remedial" classes in disgrace because of my poor English grammar & spelling.
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