(no subject)
I keep expecting this to all be a dream or perhaps just some big joke. Like as soon as I walk into the class that makes my day what it is, she's just going to pop up from behind her desk and yell, "SURPRISE! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU FELL FOR THAT!" Except I have no doubt in my mind that she would use such diction (she taught me that) that would cause me to run and get the dictionary.
When I say that her class made my day I mean it. Within thirty minutes of entering her class I knew what type of day it was going to be. Last semester a great deal of those days were pretty horrible, but some how this semester they have been nothing managed to be the highlight of the week.
Upon entering Mrs. Oshinsky's (sorry I just mentioned her name. It's hard for me to say it. Because everytime I hear it it makes it real) class the first day of school I was terrified. It wasn't just first day jitters either. I knew I wasn't AP material. Something somewhere down in my gut was screaming for me to get out while I still had the opportunity. But then my heart was telling me that I could do it if I stuck with it. So I decided to ignore my gut reaction and to go with my heart. And I now know that that was the correct choice. It may even be the best choice I've ever made.
After about a week or two we were given our first essay prompt. This essay was to be written in class. THIS KILLED ME! It isn't that I'm a horrible writer I just have trouble doing it on the spot. So this was definitely the worst essay I have ever written. When we got them back I had made an 84. This boosted my self-esteem a little because I was sure that it was a failing paper. But as soon as she opened her mouth and said, "If you received anything below an 85 be well aware that it was a failing paper!" I was crushed. I did everything I could do to fight the tears, but as soon as we left the class I just let them flow. So I kept telling myself that I was going to talk with her about it. That I was going to get tips on how to write a better essay. So I approached her finally and she fussed for a while, and then I finally just asked her if she could help learn to write an essay because apparently I don't know how to. She kept saying she would find a day to help, but she never did. I in no way, shape, or form hold this against her. Because I don't think she intended on finding a day. She knew that before the year was over I would find my comfort in writting them. It goes without saying that I cried many times after the first essay. Here I was in one of my best subjects struggling. I DON'T STRUGGLE! EVER! And now I was.
At the end of semester one I was determined to make a good grade on my exam. I HAD TO! Not just for me, but so she could see what kind of student I was. So I studied my butt off. It may even be true that I've never studied so hard in my life! So we took the exam and I made an 82. It wasn't the grade I wanted...AT ALL! But when I found out that the highest grade was a 90 (in my class) and an 86 in the other class it some how made my grade seem better.
This semester has been nothing compared to last semester. I thought it would be ten times as difficult, but some how it wasn't. Every paper I got back was at least a 90. So at this point I just stopped trying. I mean everything was coming easier to me so why try? And as soon as I stopped trying my grades got even better. It was weird. I'm not sure if it was because I was trying so hard last semester that I was just missing the point or something else. But now I was sitting in my favorite class not doing anything extra to get by. This felt nice, but not right. Now that I think back on it, I think I would much rather try (and Mrs. O see me try) and get an OK grade than not try and get really good grades. I'm filled with such conviction now because I did nothing to earn my grades. Sure I got the right answer but I wasn't trying. I just did.
Well, last week we got an essay back that was a character analysis on J. Alfred Prufrock (by T.S. Eliot), and this is one of the few things I tried on. I worked my butt off on this essay. Sure I did it IN CLASS, but I still read it over and over again. And I passed out all the other essays (like I usually did) and then I came to mine. I made 100. This made me feel awesome. I had made a 100 on something I actually tried on. Not to mention it was the only 100 I ever made on an essay. Now there are two little letters that all AP students strive for in her class. Those two little letters are "AP", which are placed ever so gracefully on the top of your paper. Of course, I NEVER received them. And surprisingly enough I'm ok with that.
I'm so glad that my last memory of her was that essay. And that she knows I tried. I'm going to miss her, for there is no one else like her. I pray that when our new teacher comes that we don't compare her to Mrs. O. That wouldn't be fair. Even though losing Mrs. O is by far one of the worst days in my life, I'm just glad that I was granted almost a year to spend with her. She wasn't just a teacher. And it kills me to have people call her that. She didn't teach at us like other teachers often do. She treated us as if she wasn't far superior than we were, even though she was. She taught us about English (BOY DID SHE EVER) but more than that she taught us about life. I can honestly say that this woman, Mrs. Linda Oshinsky, is a woman that I will never forget. I love you Mrs. O!
I've promised myself that I'm not going to cry anymore until the funeral. This is for Mrs. O. She wouldn't want us to be sitting around grieving over her. And even though last week was the hardest week of my life I learned a lot. How funny is it that she teaches us life lessons even through her death.
I just wanted to point out how amazing this lady was. Not just to me but to everyone that knew her. We found out about her death at approximately 8:50 in the morning. It was announced on the intercom at 9:00. By 9:15 the news of her death had spread ALL OVER the Clemson campus. How amazing is that? We live in the Charleston area and just 15 minutes later it was all over the upstate.
When I say that her class made my day I mean it. Within thirty minutes of entering her class I knew what type of day it was going to be. Last semester a great deal of those days were pretty horrible, but some how this semester they have been nothing managed to be the highlight of the week.
Upon entering Mrs. Oshinsky's (sorry I just mentioned her name. It's hard for me to say it. Because everytime I hear it it makes it real) class the first day of school I was terrified. It wasn't just first day jitters either. I knew I wasn't AP material. Something somewhere down in my gut was screaming for me to get out while I still had the opportunity. But then my heart was telling me that I could do it if I stuck with it. So I decided to ignore my gut reaction and to go with my heart. And I now know that that was the correct choice. It may even be the best choice I've ever made.
After about a week or two we were given our first essay prompt. This essay was to be written in class. THIS KILLED ME! It isn't that I'm a horrible writer I just have trouble doing it on the spot. So this was definitely the worst essay I have ever written. When we got them back I had made an 84. This boosted my self-esteem a little because I was sure that it was a failing paper. But as soon as she opened her mouth and said, "If you received anything below an 85 be well aware that it was a failing paper!" I was crushed. I did everything I could do to fight the tears, but as soon as we left the class I just let them flow. So I kept telling myself that I was going to talk with her about it. That I was going to get tips on how to write a better essay. So I approached her finally and she fussed for a while, and then I finally just asked her if she could help learn to write an essay because apparently I don't know how to. She kept saying she would find a day to help, but she never did. I in no way, shape, or form hold this against her. Because I don't think she intended on finding a day. She knew that before the year was over I would find my comfort in writting them. It goes without saying that I cried many times after the first essay. Here I was in one of my best subjects struggling. I DON'T STRUGGLE! EVER! And now I was.
At the end of semester one I was determined to make a good grade on my exam. I HAD TO! Not just for me, but so she could see what kind of student I was. So I studied my butt off. It may even be true that I've never studied so hard in my life! So we took the exam and I made an 82. It wasn't the grade I wanted...AT ALL! But when I found out that the highest grade was a 90 (in my class) and an 86 in the other class it some how made my grade seem better.
This semester has been nothing compared to last semester. I thought it would be ten times as difficult, but some how it wasn't. Every paper I got back was at least a 90. So at this point I just stopped trying. I mean everything was coming easier to me so why try? And as soon as I stopped trying my grades got even better. It was weird. I'm not sure if it was because I was trying so hard last semester that I was just missing the point or something else. But now I was sitting in my favorite class not doing anything extra to get by. This felt nice, but not right. Now that I think back on it, I think I would much rather try (and Mrs. O see me try) and get an OK grade than not try and get really good grades. I'm filled with such conviction now because I did nothing to earn my grades. Sure I got the right answer but I wasn't trying. I just did.
Well, last week we got an essay back that was a character analysis on J. Alfred Prufrock (by T.S. Eliot), and this is one of the few things I tried on. I worked my butt off on this essay. Sure I did it IN CLASS, but I still read it over and over again. And I passed out all the other essays (like I usually did) and then I came to mine. I made 100. This made me feel awesome. I had made a 100 on something I actually tried on. Not to mention it was the only 100 I ever made on an essay. Now there are two little letters that all AP students strive for in her class. Those two little letters are "AP", which are placed ever so gracefully on the top of your paper. Of course, I NEVER received them. And surprisingly enough I'm ok with that.
I'm so glad that my last memory of her was that essay. And that she knows I tried. I'm going to miss her, for there is no one else like her. I pray that when our new teacher comes that we don't compare her to Mrs. O. That wouldn't be fair. Even though losing Mrs. O is by far one of the worst days in my life, I'm just glad that I was granted almost a year to spend with her. She wasn't just a teacher. And it kills me to have people call her that. She didn't teach at us like other teachers often do. She treated us as if she wasn't far superior than we were, even though she was. She taught us about English (BOY DID SHE EVER) but more than that she taught us about life. I can honestly say that this woman, Mrs. Linda Oshinsky, is a woman that I will never forget. I love you Mrs. O!
I've promised myself that I'm not going to cry anymore until the funeral. This is for Mrs. O. She wouldn't want us to be sitting around grieving over her. And even though last week was the hardest week of my life I learned a lot. How funny is it that she teaches us life lessons even through her death.
I just wanted to point out how amazing this lady was. Not just to me but to everyone that knew her. We found out about her death at approximately 8:50 in the morning. It was announced on the intercom at 9:00. By 9:15 the news of her death had spread ALL OVER the Clemson campus. How amazing is that? We live in the Charleston area and just 15 minutes later it was all over the upstate.