• I couldn't wrap my mind around it. How could something be nonfiction yet be creative? Creative writing nonfiction, it doesn't even make any sense. Nonfiction is the truth and fabricating it seems to almost be lying to the readers.
    Everyone has to learn from someone. Why not learn from your teachers and peers. I don't want to limit myself to just professors reading my work, I'd love it if the people of Gaia would take time to read it.
    I go to school for an art. I typically learn from a book. A book has the capability of teaching me with the help of more than one "teacher" bound to the pages, with different styles and methods, it starts me questioning whether I have to pay so much to learn about something I could just end up practicing on my own.
    Is college my only option? I didn’t want to go to college in the first place. The people in my neighborhood begin looking at colleges at the end of their sophomore year. At the end of my sophomore year I was beginning to realize that I should maybe take school a little more seriously if I wanted to even go to college.
    All my life I have been an underachiever when it came to getting good marks on homework and quizzes. I didn’t care, just as long as I turned them in. My family doesn’t follow the same beliefs, they wanted me to excel and become a Harvard graduate. After receiving straight Cs my freshman year my dad removed me from my public high school and had me attend a private school twenty minutes away.
    The school was called Regina Dominican High School, it was an all-girls catholic school. I didn’t despise them for sending me there, my parents just wanted me to be the best that I could possibly be, and they knew that I could do it under the right circumstances. They thought that the right circumstances would be to be surrounded by girls in miniskirts. Each grade wore a different uniform skirt and had only 60 students or so. In my opinion the education system was no different than that of the public school in my town. The only difference was that I was required to take a theology class and wasn’t allowed to have a free period. All my time there was dedicated to learning.
    They wanted me to use all the time that I had at school in a productive manner, to make the most of everything there. I did learn a lot while being there, but I felt that it’d be healthier for my mind if I was able to have some time to myself instead of spending 8 hours straight filled with studying.
    Mrs. Wildman patrolled the library when I had my study hall. A study hall was the replacement of a free period, instead you could either sit in a class room and study or sit in the library and study. She would walk up and down the aisles of books and shush the girls that spoke too loudly. She was from Wisconsin and made a 45 minute commute every day to teach. She really cared about her job, I could tell. I couldn’t resist getting into disagreements with this woman though and it was because of the way she incorporated god into the arguments we’d have about using my time wisely. She told me that god was watching and that he didn’t appreciate when I wrote dark humored stories that helped me cope with the stress of my home life. Mrs. Wildman enforced the rule that during study hall we could only do homework., it ruined my year.
    I wanted to transfer out so badly when I went to private school. I was always complaining about how much I don’t like the way the school was set up. If I wanted to spend free time writing rather than doing homework that I could do at home, I should be allowed. I believe there’s a difference in motivation when there is a difference in structure. Columbia doesn’t have the same structure that an all-girls private school had. The students who want to become the best they can strive to get to the top and do so by working hard. They learn from the teacher’s that teach them out of the little yellow book.