A Terrible Love Affair

Despite the large number of lifestyle differences I expected before coming to college from abroad, my writing wasn't something I anticipated having to change.

Coming from Ghana in West Africa, I was privileged to be the presenter of "A word to the wise with Osekre" three times every week in the city of Accra. I wrote poetry and essays that I presented on radio. There were no boundaries, deadlines, or short-term goals for submitting my work. My themes knew no limits and my ideas were mine. Although I wasn't allowed to write outside of what was considered a standard radio language, my poems and essays were unstructured compared to what was later required in my University Writing Class . Starting college was going to mar my experience in a world of writing full of bliss, excitement, and drama by immersing me in a sea of unentertaining and less pleasurable writing.

I suspected my experience with University Writing was going to be a terrible love affair when I received a humbling B on my first paper. Getting a B on a paper was a bad joke that didn't have to be told twice. After approaching my instructor to find out why I hadn't scored an A on the paper, we had a beautiful conversation which indirectly told me that my work didn't have a structure, my claims had no support, and the only success I had in writing my paper was in finding a means of exhibiting my work.

She further stomped on the flaws in my work by declaring me an inadequate academic writer, since I had failed to write a good lens essay. I walked out of her office with my chest out to convince the people sitting around the hall that I had had a good meeting with my instructor and was congratulated for good work done on my paper. Meanwhile, I was bleeding beneath the surface, suffocating for having been declared a novice in an art that I thought I had mastered.

I was compelled to begin a journey in writing that reminded me of Mark Twain's letter to his protege: "I notice that you use plain, simple language, short words, and brief sentences. That is the way to write English-it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; don't let fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in. When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don't mean utterly, but kill most of them-then the rest will be valuable."

My habit of beating around the bush, turning words in circles, and confusing myself was doing more harm than good. Like a gentleman who has the attention of a lady but whose lack of boldness and words will cost him a phone number, my affair with University Writing needed some serious appraisal, lest the semester end with a C, a wave of depression, less financial aid for the next semester, and a total absence of recommendations from my teacher. I was not ready to celebrate Christmas that way.

I spent far more time at the writing center than I spent on the phone with the girl I had been chasing all of last semester, whom I must admit I will not win. I ate sandwiches at the writing center as my works were edited. Had the center been open 24 hours, renting an apartment would have been completely unnecessary.

After several meetings with my instructor and tutors at the writing center, the concept behind writing academic papers struck me. While analyzing a book on the History of the US Organ and Tissue procurement system, I realized a repeating pattern. I discovered exactly what my University Writing instructor and tutors at the writing center had been trying to teach me: academic writing is about stating the problem, suggesting solutions, and drawing conclusions from claims, exhibits, and evidence.

As in every relationship, lessons from the past prepare us for similar engagements in the future. They prepare us to better handle what we will face. Hopefully, I will demonstrate mastery over the art of academic writing-a process which, I have been informed, will be a life-long project.

The author is a General Studies first-year.