By Order of the Author

I have a hard time remembering when exactly I began to enjoy writing.  For the longest time, reading and writing were things that I hated.  The over-analysis that occurs in schools these days really turned me off from the literary arts when I was younger.  I felt that the conclusions being dug from various books were attributed to the work after the fact, and the author's intentions weren't being considered.  (See the foreword to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.)  I still have those sentiments about many of my literature studies up through my high school career.

However, looking back, evidence exists to state that I had quite the propensity towards writing and literature in my early days.

In the third grade, Mrs. Taylor (who became the librarian after teaching our class) gave us the assignment to write a ghost story.  A simple assignment to give during the Halloween season.  The classroom was decorated with pumpkins and witches, purple and orange streamers hanging from the corners of the water-damaged tile ceiling.  I don't remember any length requirement.  At the time, I thought of it as busy work.  My story was about a vampire bat, from the point of view of the bat.  I was inspired by a wonderful episode of The Magic School Bus that I had just watched, featuring bats, where the class suspected Mrs. Frizzle of being a vampire.  Hi-jinks ensued.  According to Mrs. Taylor, this shift to the first person perspective was astounding, and she had me spend the next class transcribing my work onto a large laminated sheet outlined with bats and ghosts to display in our classroom.

A few short months later, we were told to write a book report.  We had a week in class to complete the assignment.  My book was one of the childhood favorite "Boxcar Children" series.  I understood the mystery they faced, but I had the hardest time putting my pencil to paper to summarize the book.  I would stare blankly at my wide-ruled notebook paper, my head in my hands, waiting for my pencil to move itself and form words on the page.  As Mrs. Taylor made her rounds, checking on progress, she approached my desk.  "Travis, how are you doing?"  "I have no idea what I'm doing."  She proceeded to ask me about the characters and the plot and setting and theme, all of which I reported to her.  Not a word was written.  On Friday, when the other students were passing in their folders full of papers and pictures, I passed forward only air.  Mrs. Taylor never spoke a word to me about her "missing" report.

The next year, our fourth grade class was blessed with the fortune of taking the Writing TAAS test.  On this wonderfully inaccurate test, we were required to write a "narrative" about "what we would do if we could go back in time."  Luckily for me, I had recently seen a similar episode of Sister Sister, where one of the girls (Tia or Tamara) had to confront Rosa Parks in a dream and convince her not to move from her seat.  I wrote a narrative where I confronted George Washington and Abraham Lincoln and helped to assure them in their times of stress, and bolstered their courage.  At the end of my narrative, I "woke up" from my "dream" in the middle of my history class, ready to face my own trials with courage.  A wonderful piece, I must admit, although its ideas were completely unoriginal.  I was the only student from my grade to receive a 4 on my Writing TAAS test, the highest grade possible.* (See footnote)

Interestingly, previously that same year, in Mrs. Loftin's language arts class, I received my first "B" ever.  EVER.  The reason for this first failure was the familiar writer's block as in the case of the book report the year prior.  It was during the dreaded "Camp Write-a-Long," a week devoted to writing exercises and grammar worksheets.  Strangely, the assignment was to write a ghost story.  Where have we seen this assignment before?  On this occasion, unlike before, I was formidably stumped.  Not a page was put to print, and this time, I did not have the benevolence of my teacher to save me.  I was hounded by the bulldog woman, and I turned in something that my mind has blocked out.  With its tardiness working against the already poor quality of the work, a low grade was recorded, and it was reflected in my record shattering, report-card staining "B." 

The taint of imperfection would follow me forever, haunting my interaction with Language Arts classes to come.  Logan, Farris, Kordsmeier, Drury, Gaconnet, and Krohn were reapers and sowers of my displeasure and angst.  Only a select few would alleviate the pain:  Adams, Ligon, Forbes, Lowery, Barloon, and an honorable mention to Henry.



*I was told by various teachers that I was the only one to receive a 4 from my grade on the Writing TAAS test.  If anyone else was told the same thing, please inform me.  My ego has grown substantially since the fourth grade, likely because of this bolstering.