"My experience of writing II"

There was a time in my life when I wrote because I enjoyed it and I felt that I had always been a pretty decent writer. My experience of writing started when I was a teenager. I used to write my diary and letters since I find pleasure in doing so, and I put no effort at all into the quality of my writing. I wrote because I loved writing.


When I entered the Teaching Training College, I became a hopeless writer: whenever I had to put my ideas down on a sheet of paper, my mind would get automatically blocked. Therefore I would spend endless hours before I could finish a coherent piece of writing, feeling completed dissatisfied with it, I thought my teachers were waiting for the moment they would highlight my mistakes to make me realize I had learnt nothing. "Writing": My mood used to change as soon as I heard this word. It was really a daunting task and I was overwhelmed by it.



Luckily, this traumatic period is over. This year I have experienced again "Process Writing" which has helped me a lot to change my mind. I used to feel frustrated when starting any piece of writing and now I believe I can cope with any task. I have been trained not only on how to write narratives, but also essays, abstracts, articles and other types of texts. I switch on my computer and I type my ideas straightaway now. The word processor helps me shape my thoughts: this awareness has directly affected my writing style. I am conscious there is a reader on the other side, so I have learnt to develop the ability to capture the readers' attention and to keep them hooked, begging for more. Consequently, I have been able to bear in mind at all times that I am not writing for myself, but for them.

I still need to work hard in my editing when writing and speaking because I tend to make mistakes that are very serious at this level of the course. I have thought it over all these months and I came to the conclusion that I have this problem because I might be emotionally blocked or perhaphs it is a psychological barrier. I am looking forward to shortening this gap in my linguistic competence and becoming a better teacher.



All in all, I feel I have reached November with the satisfaction of having produced most of my writing fairly "good". I need to resolve this psychological problem that prevents me from having a better performance in English. Thank you Analía for your help and patience! Thank you my dearest mates: Romi, Liting, Nana, Pauli, Ayelén, Dr Héctor, Silvi, Jackie, Barbie, Jaz, Anna, Scott and the tutors, you have been an immense sustain and support for me during this difficult year... All the best for everybody!

And now a SURPRISE!!!
This is a poem for all of you, I already shared something similar some years ago with another group, but I have made the necessary changes and this is it, I hope you like it...

LANGUAGE III "My Feelings"

I am still amazed
and it wasn't a maze,
although at first I guessed it was,
and thought I would be at a loss.

But soon I found a group
in which I felt so good
Romi, Liting, Hector,
Nana, Ayelén, Silvi,
Jackie, Barbie and Paula
all of you had a kind of aura.

Each one gave her/his very best.
Ideas, jokes, oral tasks, vocabulary and the rest:
good will, hard work, common sense,
friendship, laughs, nerves and love immense...

The tasks, the PPTs and the novels were so clear
that very soon we lost our fear.
Analía, Jaz, Anna and Scott taught us,
we taught each other
we changed forever, us and them...

After this experience in Language 3
I will never be the same.
Learning was a fruitful process
though it was no bed of roses...

We had to struggle our own battles:
poor health, our own problems,
schedule changes, strikes and other matters,
but nothing could our faith shatter!

And here we are, and here I am
our goal achieved, an accomplished aim,
I thought it was an impossible dream
but it is true, and now I beam!

Julia Villasboa

"A True Tale of Argentine Life" - The Lottery Ticket

On her way back home from the butcher's, Mother has legendarily stopped off at the Lottery Agency, which lies two blocks away from my parents' place. She finds it a pretty unavoidable temptation, like the alluring, inescapable door to hell. Father has always been in conflict with this practice.

- "Well blow me if that isn't my wife, trying to skulk away with her latest sin in one hand, and some meat in the other!" - He teased her that morning.
- "Well blow me if this isn't the winning ticket for the evening! I'm sick and tired of your complaints!" - Mother answered.

Thursting the meat and purse on the table, she strode out of the kitchen. She was well aware that he hated her doing this. It was a most irritating habit she had taken to. The numbers were 67 - 29 - 83 - 26 - 5. They were related to his age, the number of years they'd been married, granny's next birthdy, my own age and at last my son's. She had been betting on those numbers for the last decades. She had made the necessary modifications required by the passing of years, naturally, but basically the parameter had been maintained all along.

At the usual time, the peroxide blonde announced on TV: .- "8 pm, Lottery Time". The winning numbers of the day started oozing out of the presenter's lips like rose petals abandoning their crade: "Five... Twenty six... Twenty nine... Sixty seven... " Suddenly the lights went off and while we awaited, father collapsed.

Mother found out which the last number was once the power returned. And the last number was seventy five, so, once again, she had not been the winner. But poor Father, out of guilt, had a heart attack when the lights went off, convinced that Mother's ticket was the winner and he had spoiled it all. He did believe in God, rather vehemently. No doubt about it, he must have considered it a form of punishment for having been so intolerant with Mother. He was immediately clasped between the Hands of the Lord, unfortunately. Nothing could be done. Mother might never win any money from betting, but having ridden of her principal gambling hindrance seemed quite enough for starters...

Self corrections and after writing reflections: https://docs1.google.com/document/d/1NSB_NYX0g9xAWyTxQSYf8ChSpYSIO_lfTBV5PTLTGew/edit##