This very moment as I am typing this essay. I get filled with the nostalgia of my mom calling me from a block away as I am outside playing football on the street with the older boys or riding my bike with my friends. “Christian, come inside we have to work on your writing”. I reluctantly say goodbye to my friends and proceed to head back inside. My stimulated mind would always be flooded with different thoughts. None of which however, had anything to do with the work that I would be doing. “When can I take a break”, “Why am I the only one that doesn’t get to stay outside” ,“Will I be able to finish this & go back outside to play before it gets dark”. Suddenly, I awake from my daydreaming from the sound of my mother yelling at me to focus on my work. She constantly portrays the strict demeanor of a teacher throughout our reading and writing session, which I often think that this is my mother way of fulfilling her desire to become a teacher.She would always tell me stories about her childhood dreams of being a teacher and her old part time teaching jobs that she took while studying in college. She always had her sights set on educating the youth one day “until I came along”, as she phrases it.
Despite my constant disinterest in improving my literature, I feel as if it eventually started to pay off, starting in my late middle school/early high school years. My English teachers would often give reports such as “He uses such advanced vocabulary in his writing” and “he articulates himself very well for his age” much to both me and my mom’s surprised. These positives remarks from my teachers boosted my confidence and slightly increased my interest in improving my literature. I enjoy being rewarded for my actions, much like everybody else because It fuels my ability to improve on whatever task or challenge that I am dealing with.
I also discovered many other uses of writing during this time. Being able to write my thoughts down on a piece of paper, or in this instance typing my thoughts down on a computer, allowed me to express myself in ways that I would be unable to in a face to face conversation. Writing allows you to gather your thoughts in a seemingly infinite amount of time rather than all the pauses and stutters that would occur when responding in a restricted amount of time while having a verbal conversation with someone. I also fell in love with the use of clever rhyme schemes and metaphors used in a lot of poetry and rap music. Which I would use to impress my friends whenever we had freestyle sessions outside at the park or at the lunch table. The restricted use of words ironically gives the writer more freedom to say what they want and how they want to say it. To think that all this can be traced back to my moms willingness to pass on such a passion of hers on to me which looking back now I am extremely grateful for.
Your opening line is perfect: “This very moment as I am typing this essay. I get filled with the nostalgia of my mom calling me from a block away …” In that I mean that it sounds like some professional story and I am already swept into the narrative. Football. Great. And your mom’s voice and you being startled out of your reveries. Great. I call that “inner/outer” voice, and it is a smart choice you made.
I feel like this essay may be about you, but I also feel like we already know your mom. : )
I agree, as you know, with your observations about “contraint.” Now, I will say what I say to most writers: what detials? as in, what rap lyrics, etc.? It would give flavor and specificity and you don’t have to add much to keep us hooked.
great work, Christian.