Elisa Bentez
Multimedia Writing and Rhetoric
Dr. McLaughlin
12 December 14
Audio Narrative Script
My Never-Ending Battle
Eighth grade is mostly a blur, but one thing remains crystal clear that corner desk. Now
I have always been a corner desk kind of person, the kind that doesnt raise their hand very much
or asks a lot of questions. But that corner desk was the original frontline of my never-ending
battle.
Going into my first English test, I didnt know what to expect. Its vocab and a little bit
of writing, how hard could it be? I thought. I remember coming out the test thinking I had done
well.
Next week, she was there, all cute with a new headband and a big smile, running around
the room as usual. Most of the class paid little attention until they saw it. She was armed and
evidence of blood stained our once neat and clean tests. I am going to hand these out in the
order of highest to lowest grade, she said. Oh, God!
Danny, she called out. Expected, we all thought. Andrea was next. Shes dramatic and
for some reason I equated that with good writing. Lydwan. Jose Mercado. Didnt know he
could write. Paula. Phew. I heard a sigh of relief as she stood up from the desk next to mine.
Now I havent mentioned it, but my name is Elisa. E-L-I-S-A. Not a complicated name to call
out. Only three tests left. By then I was convinced she must have misplaced mine. But then she
handed out two more and as I look around, I realized everyone had his or her tests. She had not
misplaced it. I was the last one. There it was. E-L-I-S-A. Funny thing, those five letters were all I
could recognize on the black and white that was once my paper. Now it was more of an art
project. A barely visible black and white background covered with a set of really sporadic yet
beautifully outlined red markings. Im sure she considered it a masterpiece. Now as I tried to
read through the messy hand written comments on my paper, I realized it was not so much what I
had written but how, messy sentence structure, meek vocabulary, not very descriptive. In other
words, my ideas were there but I was not conveying them in an efficient or enticing way. I didnt
understand back then, but I was being exposed. Back to the corner desk type of person thing, I
was not less qualified or dumber than my classmates; I was just quiet, afraid of giving away
anything that might change how others viewed me. I know what you are thinking and yes it
probably all goes back to self-esteem issues but I did not realize this.
Fast-forward three weeks and here we go again. You can imagine my excitement. Now
would you look at that, second to last, a step up. Dont get me wrong; I did not expect to get the
highest grades or a standing ovation for my work. But I have to admit; the feeling that my best
was not good enough was new to me. She wasnt the enemy. She was right and I knew it, but it
felt like I was trying to conquer Italy and couldnt get past the Alps. It was a challenge and it was
trying to push me out of that corner desk.
Every time I heard Im going to give you back your tests or assignments my body
tightened up, my hands would start sweating and I would clench my teeth until I heard my name.
It reminded me of going to the doctor to get shots. But as we moved on to freshman year, the
shots got less painful and I could see their benefits. I guess, gradually I saw that writing was not
about exposing myself naked to the world, but conveying my perspective through words. So I
changed my strategy, instead of hiding my thoughts and just making up new ones to put on
paper, I used the teachers suggestions and incorporated more metaphors and expanded my
vocabulary in the hopes that readers would see the image I was trying to create and understand
whatever message I was trying to send.
We got to the end of freshman year, and there was one last chance to prove I was worthy
of holding a pencil. It was like the Battle of Midway during WWII. The teacher being the
Japanese had done her damage, but now I, being the US, had all the resources to come out on
top. It was a ten-page research paper based on three authors of the same genre and their writing
styles. We had to integrate quotes, source information and our opinion. So I let myself write, I
did not hesitate to write what I was thinking and not only was it a relief, I was actually proud of
what I had written.
The following week we got our assignments back and guess whose name was first. Yes! I
did not physically scream, but there was a huge celebration in my head. So I thought was done,
the battle was over, but what I didnt realize was that writing is an essential component of almost
anything in life and my learning process was definitely not over. This would soon become a
small victory in my never-ending battle.