Helen: I really enjoyed her first paper her work in all her pieces is detailed and intricate. I especially loved her vocabulary. All of her words flowed beautifully and in all of her posted pieces. Even though i see Helen as being a very strong writer from the beginning I do think she has improved even more (if that's possible).

Kristin: I really enjoyed reading her papers. SHe has a great way of organizing each paper and her sentence structure is flawless. In essay three i could really feel the emotion she was trying to convey. And she organized it with the "*'s" which I though was beautiful.

Chantel- (Before I review her work I would first like to say THANK YOU! when you reviewed my papers in the workshops you were never afraid to tell me how it is, no sugarcoating and for me to develop to be the writer I want to be I needed that!) I was able to edit her paper TARDIS and I loved it. Her first paper was amazing as well. She always was able to show what she meant in such an elaborate way. Her papers gradually showed improvement (to the already great writer she is). I feel that if  was given three papers with no names on them I could definitely pick hers out!

John: I really enjoyed his third paper as well. His sentence structure and his word choice even in his first paper. Words such as "forefront" and "structure ridiculously predictable" seemed so vibrant and in times just simple words could convey a lot of emotion. He is a very strong writer! Good luck now that your all done with college John! CONGRATS!!

As for me and my writing! Ug. As i said earlier I learned a lot from my peers. I do feel that i developed a stronger vocabulary and possibly a more elaborate way of saying what i want. However I know i still need to work on a lot of things. Grammar and being in the same tense is one of my biggest issues. On the essays i did revisions for some of my edits were so slight but they made the biggest difference in my work. I was able to learn from my mistakes and grow from them. Although at times I had such a bad case of writers block and felt stupid I overcame that and was proud of each paper i wrote. No regrets no do overs!

Frankfurt defines truth as right or wrong. Telling a lie or withholding the truth is wrong in all cases. The facts should always be apparent in any story no matter the person or the situation. Whereas Miller defines truth based on the individual and the story. She feels that if a lie can benefit what the writer is writing than it is a necessary step to take. As long as the writer can convey themselves and the reader gets a fresh idea than it is ok.  

English 319

Essay 3

Word count: 1,555

Failing Moments Rise

My mind went blank, panic set in. I read the assignment on the board over and over. Why do you want to be in this class? What do you hope you will learn from it? I don’t know! I want out of this class! Why am I taking a College English class in High School? I don’t even know if I want to go to college.  As my mind raced so did my pencil, as I was unconsciously tapping it on the desk top. My feet and legs bounced up and down, it seemed like my legs were ready to run from the class as well. I sat there for an hour knowing what I wanted to say not what I needed to. I needed to say, to learn to become a better writer. Finally the bell rang, the teacher screamed orders that the essay was due tomorrow and that even though this essay was the first one it played a MAJOR role in our grade.  I had taken a class from this same teacher once before and she was brutal. Mrs. Jones, a wicked old woman, enjoyed torturing students it seemed. She had no problem with making students faces turn red with embarrassment for not knowing the answer. I hated that feeling. I never knew the answer under pressure. She was now turning into my worst enemy. She held my future in her hands. If I fail this class I won’t go to college. I finished my day and was in no hurry to go home. When I eventually made it home and of course my parents were there to greet me with the usual “get your homework done”.  So I decided I would bull shit the essay, it was better than telling the truth about how I felt at this point. The next day I slouched in my chair, a bright orange chair connected to a small piece of wood that had curse words all over it. She walked in the room dressed in her usual white panty hose and jumper, her hair getting grayer every day. She collected my essay, I watched her place it in her left hand slowly getting everyone else’s papers, but somehow I managed to keep my eye on my paper, Regret now set in.

My parents grew up in the small town of Fort Morgan, Colorado. My parents were high school sweet hearts. They meet through my mother’s dad. He was a police officer in Brush, a small town north of Fort Morgan. My dad worked for my grandpa back before they even knew he would have that title. My mother had a hard time growing up; she was young when her mother and father divorced. She went to live with her mom Judy, my grandmother. By the time my mom was fifteen she had a job and was supporting herself. She bought her own food, school supplies, and paid any fun things she wanted to do. She used to tell me of how she would work late at night at the only Pizza Hut in town, and how dad would pick her up since it was on the highway. He always took care of her. There was one year when she could not save up enough money to get a prom dress. She was devastated her senior prom and she could not go for lack of a dress. My dad surprised her with a beautiful white ruffled dress with a blue satin sash across the waist. They were perfect for each other. Grandma was a different woman back then, I am told. It seemed like her focus was all on herself. During the time my mom was paying for everything acting like an adult even though she was in high school, my grandmother bought herself a new convertible. Eventually my parents graduated from High School and got married. Unfortunately they never went to college they only received a high school diploma. They were two smart individuals who could have gone far if they had to opportunity. Money was an issue. My father took a couple of courses at the local Community College; however it did not last long. He had gotten a job offer at the Police Department in Longmont, Colorado. They began their lives there; my father with his dream job and my mother with a baby on the way, me.

Growing up with my parents was fun. We were big on family time. But when it came to school it was hard for me and them to find common ground. My mother was very smart, especially when it came to math. She has worked at a bank either as a teller or in mortgage business. But my father, he and I are the exact same. He and I struggle when it comes to school. But he was really good at trying to help me to understand it…at least when I was in elementary school. When it came to learn how to add or subtract he would buy M&Ms and use them to help. He would lay out three blue ones and four green ones and ask how many blue and green M&Ms there are. If I got the answer right I got to eat the M&Ms. This routine lasted a couple weeks, eventually it died. I eventually lost my parents help around long division and sentence structures. I would bring home sheets of homework where I had to either pick out the verbs, nouns, pronouns, and adjectives I would ask for help but they always said they would not remember that and that I was smart enough to figure it out. My attention fell on math and science. No matter how hard I tried or how hard I studied I could not figure it out. I could only retain 50% of the information I needed to for a test…resulting in horrible grades…resulting in no social life due to always being grounded. In elementary school I went to a Baptist school were math and quoting the Bible was the only thing that mattered. I remember once in fifth grade we had a lesson on how to write in cursive that lasted a month long.

School frustrated me I had not found one subject that I liked or that I was good at. Eventually I gave up in school; eighth grade was where I stopped caring. I was sick of learning I did not want to anymore. School and I were the worst of enemies. My parents did not know what to do with me, they grounded me, gave me extra chores, they even bought practice books that were two inches thick and they made me do pages everyday on top of my homework. I resented having to do them I felt like my parents were calling me dumb I tried to have a good attitude about it but I couldn’t; I would look up the answers in the back of the book when I needed a break from school, both from the real one and the one created.

High school came and it was tons different. Math got a little easier; I had three amazing teachers who understood my frustration. They understood I was trying and that sometimes I needed different ways of teaching in order to make something click in my brain. Those teachers doors were always open to me for help. Science went okay, chemistry better than biology. History was easy, the teachers went slowly and projects were involved, it seemed like more of a social hour than a class. English was all about reading novels, writing journal entries, and learning about the Greek gods. But I still had not found a subject that I was happy with. I did not give up in High School I was at least having fun with my teachers.

As I sat in that orange chair the next day after turning in my paper I sat there with my heart racing. I do not want to be grounded my senior year! I have way to many plans for school to ruin it for me again. She went through the entire class without passing back the papers as if she knew we were all on edge about them. She finally passed them back. An F! I had never seen so many red marks on a paper before, but as I looked around the room EVERYONE got F’s. Even the straight A+ students! She told us that she looked for every possible grammar error and that by the end of the semester, if we truly cared, we would have them fixed. Weeks went by and we had read two novels and written papers on them. My grades gradually got better. She helped us with college applications, entrance essays, and even how to properly mail them. The class was starting to get fun. And every time I got a paper back with a better grade it made me feel like I was actually doing something I liked. We did one last project, a research paper. I picked my topic and started to work. I focused all my time on this one paper, wondering just how good I could really write. I presented all the facts, organized the paragraphs, used my transition sentences like we learned. For once in my WHOLE educational career I was having fun and enjoying a subject! I was not afraid to turn in that project, I did so with pride. It was like turning in a piece of me I never knew I had. I still have that essay with the big red A on it and the report card that had the same next to the subject. She informed us at the end of class that everyone got F’s on their first papers to show them that they always need to work on writing even if you think you’re great at it. And then she looked at me, as if to tell me not that I was great at it but that I could be great.  

English 319

Essay 3

Word count: 1,555

Failing Moments Rise

My mind went blank, panic set in. I read the assignment on the board over and over. Why do you want to be in this class? What do you hope you will learn from it? I don’t know! I want out of this class! Why am I taking a College English class in High School? I don’t even know if I want to go to college.  As my mind raced so did my pencil, as I was unconsciously tapping it on the desk top. My feet and legs bounced up and down, it seemed like my legs were ready to run from the class as well. I sat there for an hour knowing what I wanted to say not what I needed to. I needed to say, to learn to become a better writer. Finally the bell rang, the teacher screamed orders that the essay was due tomorrow and that even though this essay was the first one it played a MAJOR role in our grade.  I had taken a class from this same teacher once before and she was brutal. Mrs. Jones, a wicked old woman, enjoyed torturing students it seemed. She had no problem with making students faces turn red with embarrassment for not knowing the answer. I hated that feeling. I never knew the answer under pressure. She was now turning into my worst enemy. She held my future in her hands. If I fail this class I won’t go to college. I finished my day and was in no hurry to go home. When I eventually made it home and of course my parents were there to greet me with the usual “get your homework done”.  So I decided I would bull shit the essay, it was better than telling the truth about how I felt at this point. The next day I slouched in my chair, a bright orange chair connected to a small piece of wood that had curse words all over it. She walked in the room dressed in her usual white panty hose and jumper, her hair getting grayer every day. She collected my essay, I watched her place it in her left hand slowly getting everyone else’s papers, but somehow I managed to keep my eye on my paper, it was like a red scarlet paper. Regret now set in.

My parents grew up in the small town of Fort Morgan, Colorado. My parents were high school sweet hearts. They meet through my mother’s dad. He was a police officer in Brush, a small town north of Fort Morgan. My dad worked for my grandpa back before they even knew he would have that title. My mother had a hard time growing up; she was young when her mother and father divorced. She went to live with her mom Judy, my grandmother. By the time my mom was fifteen she had a job and was supporting herself. She bought her own food, school supplies, and paid any fun things she wanted to do. She used to tell me of how she would work late at night at the only Pizza Hut in town, and how dad would pick her up since it was on the highway. He always took care of her. There was one year when she could not save up enough money to get a prom dress. She was devastated her senior prom and she could not go for lack of a dress. My dad surprised her with a beautiful white ruffled dress with a blue satin sash across the waist. They were perfect for each other. Grandma was a different woman back then, I am told. It seemed like her focus was all on herself. During the time my mom was paying for everything acting like an adult even though she was in high school, my grandmother bought herself a new convertible. Eventually my parents graduated from High School and got married. Unfortunately they never went to college they only received a high school diploma. They were two smart individuals who could have gone far if they had to opportunity. Money was an issue. My father took a couple of courses at the local Community College; however it did not last long. He had gotten a job offer at the Police Department in Longmont, Colorado. They began their lives there; my father with his dream job and my mother with a baby on the way, me.

Growing up with my parents was fun. We were big on family time. But when it came to school it was hard for me and them to find common ground. My mother was very smart, especially when it came to math. She has worked at a bank either as a teller or in mortgage business. But my father, he and I are the exact same. He and I struggle when it comes to school. But he was really good at trying to help me to understand it…at least when I was in elementary school. When it came to learn how to add or subtract he would buy M&Ms and use them to help. He would lay out three blue ones and four green ones and ask how many blue and green M&Ms there are. If I got the answer right I got to eat the M&Ms. This routine lasted a couple weeks, eventually it died. I eventually lost my parents help around long division and sentence structures. I would bring home sheets of homework where I had to either pick out the verbs, nouns, pronouns, and adjectives I would ask for help but they always said they would not remember that and that I was smart enough to figure it out. My attention fell on math and science. No matter how hard I tried or how hard I studied I could not figure it out. I could only retain 50% of the information I needed to for a test…resulting in horrible grades…resulting in no social life due to always being grounded. In elementary school I went to a Baptist school were math and quoting the Bible was the only thing that mattered. I remember once in fifth grade we had a lesson on how to write in cursive that lasted a month long.

School frustrated me I had not found one subject that I liked or that I was good at. Eventually I gave up in school; eighth grade was where I stopped caring. I was sick of learning I did not want to anymore. School and I were the worst of enemies. My parents did not know what to do with me, they grounded me, gave me extra chores, they even bought practice books that were two inches thick and they made me do pages everyday on top of my homework. I resented having to do them I felt like my parents were calling me dumb I tried to have a good attitude about it but I couldn’t; I would look up the answers in the back of the book when I needed a break from school, both from the real one and the one created.

High school came and it was tons different. Math got a little easier; I had three amazing teachers who understood my frustration. They understood I was trying and that sometimes I needed different ways of teaching in order to make something click in my brain. Those teachers doors were always open to me for help. Science went okay, chemistry better than biology. History was easy, the teachers went slowly and projects were involved, it seemed like more of a social hour than a class. English was all about reading novels, writing journal entries, and learning about the Greek gods. But I still had not found a subject that I was happy with. I did not give up in High School I was at least having fun with my teachers.

As I sat in that orange chair the next day after turning in my paper I sat there with my heart racing. I do not want to be grounded my senior year! I have way to many plans for school to ruin it for me again. She went through the entire class without passing back the papers as if she knew we were all on edge about them. She finally passed them back. An F! I had never seen so many red marks on a paper before, but as I looked around the room EVERYONE got F’s. Even the straight A+ students! She told us that she looked for every possible grammar error and that by the end of the semester, if we truly cared, we would have them fixed. Weeks went by and we had read two novels and written papers on them. My grades gradually got better. She helped us with college applications, entrance essays, and even how to properly mail them. The class was starting to get fun. And every time I got a paper back with a better grade it made me feel like I was actually doing something I liked. We did one last project, a research paper. I picked my topic and started to work. I focused all my time on this one paper, wondering just how good I could really write. I presented all the facts, organized the paragraphs, used my transition sentences like we learned. For once in my WHOLE educational career I was having fun and enjoying a subject! I was not afraid to turn in that project, I did so with pride. It was like turning in a piece of me I never knew I had. I still have that essay with the big red A on it and the report card that had the same next to the subject. She informed us at the end of class that everyone got F’s on their first papers to show them that they always need to work on writing even if you think you’re great at it. And then she looked at me, as if to tell me not that I was great at it but that I could be great.  

I think this class gave me the motivation I needed in order to take that huge leap and go to college. I started my first semester as a college student, scared as hell but also excited. Surprisingly I did well! I was proud of myself, I never wanted to go home to my parents and if I had to I could not wait to go back to my dorm room. I felt independent and free. But now I am realizing that the independent and free feeling also comes with a price, adulthood. I am still learning little lessons along the way…such as even though I want to drop out of college right now I know that next semester is a new chance. I can start fresh with new classes and new professors. It is relatively exciting. This semester I learned that even though I feel stupid I am not and that sometimes getting an F on a paper only makes you stronger for the next.

Model Sentence- The gallows stood in a small yard, separate from the main grounds of the prison and overgrown with tall prickly weeds.

Imitation- The car sat in the parking lot opposite the store of the mall and surrounded by piles of snow.  

Model Sentence- To have even a portion of this illuminated reason and truly philosophy is the highest state to which nature can aspire, in the name of the intellect.

Imitation- To have love, family, and a home is the highest state an individual could need.

Model Sentence- The real art that dealt with life directly was that of first men who told their stories round the savage campfire.

Imitation- The true way to deal with life is to tell stories around a campfire.

Variation- The fire flickered while stories of life echoed in the night.

Expression- The tales and stories tamed the flames that glow in the middle.

Essay Two

Word Count: 1,080

Style + Structure = Voice

It always seems like voice is the evil in writing. For one it is hard to determine not only when to use voice but what is voice? Is it a paper jam packed with your thoughts and beliefs? Or is it the way you structure your sentences, use your words, basically a pattern of your own mechanics? I personally believe that voice is style, the way someone can write and have it show their personality. Through their words, grammar and mechanics the writer should be easily pointed out by their readers. For me and my writing (for example)…my words are easy to read nothing to indigestible for my readers, I tend to use long sentences (when I have a big idea) or the short and sweet ones (when I want to make sure I got my point across).

To show what I mean I can use an imitation exercise. If I took a couple paragraphs from one of Frankfurt’s book and re-wrote it using my style would my way have a bigger impact? Or would it defeat the point Frankfurt was trying to make? To find out I chose to imitate Frankfurt’s book On Truth pages 32-24:

No civilization can afford to hate truth. It is not enough to recognize that the truth and lies are concepts worth grasping but to actually practice it. We all must also encourage those who truly devote themselves to truth. It may be easier to bullshit but it is also the lazy way. Individuals who do bullshit have a lazy sense of what is true and false.

            A society that does not care about any of these beliefs is going to eventually make it to where they are incapable of achieving anything, nor will they be able to reach goals. The world cannot get along without the truth. They cannot develop if they constantly have to pursue the truth. In order to make this world better and more advanced we need to avoid stupidity (bullshit). Making productive use of truth is the first step.

This imitation was easy for me. I started off by copying Frankfurt’s passage word for word. After I had his words in front of me I proceeded to change his indigestible vocabulary to by easy to digest vocabulary. This is where I had my first imitation, but I still had his sentence structure (and according to my definition of voice that was something I needed to change to my own style). So I looked over each sentence to see what I could or could not condense/combine. I narrowed it down; I ended up having fewer sentences than Frankfurt original piece. After everything was done, and I felt my imitation was complete by my standards of voice, I could not help but feel that I may have “dumbed” down Frankfurt’s piece. I chose the simpler imitation for two reasons. One Frankfurt is a scholar (accepted in the academic discourse) and I am not, so I am still figuring out a stronger vocabulary and sentence structure. Whereas he has it down as he has demonstrated in his books. And two, I understand the “dumbed” down version better than his scholarly version. Every piece of writing I read if I do not understand it simple changes like vocabulary helps me. So for now the simple and condensed is my style of writing, I can understand it and I hope that my readers can as well. I choose the simple voice because I know how frustrating it is to read a piece and not understand one word, and I do not want my readers to feel the same about my work. I want them to read what I have to say and be able to understand it easily.

Going deeper into the analysis of this exercise I can break down both versions (Frankfurt’s and mine). This will help me to not only learn from Frankfurt’s style (which is essentially the point of imitation) but I can clearly define my own voice. But before I can do this I must say that this exercise was easy because one I agree with what Frankfurt is saying and two even though he is a scholar he was easy to read and I do not feel like he wrote this book just for the academic discourse but for every one (which is where I see myself writing). So for me he was a good person to imitate. Starting on the first sentence he says, “…no society can afford to despise or to disrespect the truth.” But I say No civilization can afford to hate truth. His sentence seems more elaborate, whereas mine is straight to the point. Another example of the differences is in that same paragraph. He says

Moreover, whatever benefits and rewards it may sometimes be possible to attain by bullshitting, by dissembling, or through sheer mendacity, societies cannot afford to tolerate anyone or anything that fosters a slovenly indifference to the distinction between true and false. Much less the can indulge the shabby narcissistic pretense that being true to the facts is less important than being “true to oneself (33).

But I thought that was a little rough to read for me, I thought some things could be left out and condensed easily. It may be easier to bullshit but it is also the lazy way. Individuals who do bullshit have a lazy sense of what is true and false. I like what I said and how I said it, once again it is short and to the point. But I still felt like I “dumbed” down the academic discourse.

            My definition of voice remains the same. It is how you say it not necessarily what you say. Frankfurt and I said the exact same thing; I just said it in my own voice (even if it was the dumb version). I feel that my voice (style and mechanics) will grow as my writing progresses. One day I may write exactly like Frankfurt but I will develop new words and sentence structures, because by then I will be (hopefully) writing for the academy. I believe that any writer can just throw their opinion on a paper, but to take the time to organize, structure, and produce a true piece of work takes style. If a writer takes that time to do those little things their voice will come though and their point will be made very well.   

It always seems like voice is the evil in writing. For one it is hard to determine not only when to use voice but what is voice? Is it a paper jam packed with your thoughts and beliefs, or is it the way you structure your sentences, use your words, basically a pattern of your own mechanics? I personally believe that voice is style, the way someone can write and have it show their personality. Through their words, grammar and mechanics the writer can be easily pointed out by their readers. For me and my writing…my words are easy to read nothing to indigestible for my readers, I tend to use long sentences or the short and sweet ones. Any writer can just say what they want to on paper. If I took a couple paragraphs from Frankfurt’s book On Truth and re-wrote it using my style would it have a bigger impact? Or would it defeat the point he was trying to make?

No civilization can afford to hate truth. It is not enough to recognize that the truth and lies are concepts worth grasping but to actually practice it. We all must also encourage those who truly devote themselves to truth. It may be easier to bullshit but it is also the lazy way. Individuals who do bullshit have a lazy sense of what is true and false.

            A society that does not care about any of these beliefs is going to eventually make it to where they are incapable of achieving anything, nor will they be able to reach goals. The world cannot get along without the truth. They cannot develop if they constantly have to pursue the truth. In order to make this world better and more advanced we need to avoid stupidity (bullshit). Making productive use of truth is the first step.

            This exercise was interesting. Based on my definition of voice I simply re-wrote this glimpse of Frankfurts book On Truth by first copying his entire two paragraphs word for word. I then changed the words that were either hard to understand or just words that could be changed to simpler synonyms. Here is where I had my first version of imitation. But I still had his sentence structure and mechanics, which I needed to still change in order to have my voice. The only thing that was different is that I added my “digestible” vocabulary. So the next step was that I analyzed each sentence one by one to see what he wanted to say and say that in my own style. I felt that the exercise was very easy to do. As far as the impact, I think that Frankfurt’s voice has may have flowed a little better. When I was imitating his work I left some stuff out and I felt like I just jumped to the next statement. After reading my imitation I felt like I “dumbed” down his paragraph so even a child could understand.  I still said what he was wanting to I just put it in my own style.

I think one reason this exercise was so easy for me was that I agree with Frankfurt. If I did not agree with him I may have been tempted to put my own opinion in my imitation. That, however, would defeat what I thought about voice. It is not bad to voice an opinion. I said earlier that it is easy for someone to just state their opinion, yes that is true it is easy, but so was what I just did. I could have easily just said…Liars are bullshit-ers who damper society. So then I just put into my own words and

Essay 1: Revision

Word count: 1,010

Voice (Take Two)

In writing voice is often referred to as tone, mood, style, or even just personal experience (Being able to use the pronoun “I’!). But voice has always been an issue in writing. It is something every college student knows! The academic world discourages voice. But why do they discourage voice? What is so wrong with it? Some feel that it should not be included in all papers, but I would have to disagree with that. I would have to agree that voice is something to exclude in research papers and scientific papers, but voice is not something to ban. I feel that professors think that if they give their students freedom to play with voice that they will lose structure and “backbone” to their papers.

Students constantly worry about the grade that will be received when using voice. In order to be a scholar you have to write like a scholar, and in order to write like a scholar you must follow the examples of the scholar before you. It is a chain that may once in a while allow voice such as Elbow; he is very “voicy” (as I make up a word here) in the way he shows writers how to write. Voice worked for him. He wanted individuals to search for their own styles of writing as well as developing voice.

I specifically remember one class so far in my college career that I was discouraged from putting voice or personal experience in my writing. This did not make sense to me seeing as the class was “women in Contemporary Society”, and I WAS a woman in society. So how is it that voice, or my personal experiences, could not benefit my papers? I wanted to ask her that question and see how she responded. I barely got a C in the class because I refused to listen to her. She continually was telling me my essays were not proving anything, and that I needed to review those essays that she had posted. They were of course the essays of the students who got A’s on papers. But reading them they seemed so “textbook bland”. It was as if every single one of those students has only a Bartholome learning experiences. They were jam packed with facts and statistics it was like reading a medical essay on some of the topics. The thing so confusing to me was that they too were females in society writing on issues such as gender segregation in the work place. I have had a few incidents where I have felt that I was being treated differently than a male so I wrote about that experience. I told how I felt. How I thought the situation should have been handled. Over all I was proud of my essay and my individual stance for women. But the other women in the class wrote about past experiences of other women, for instance days when women were not allowed to vote. It was like reading a book report on that time era. I wondered why they got A’s. They were not even there for that. They did not experience those difficult times and honestly women today don’t fully understand what it must have been like to be a woman back then! The other essays made me mad. Our essays were saying the exact same thing however the only difference is I allow my reader to hear my experience rather than report what another woman was feeling.

For instance we wrote an essay on men and how insurance companies par for their use of Viagra, but women have to pay out of pocket for their birth control. The argument was that insurance companies see that issue for men a “quality of like issue”. OS I argued my point from how I felt. I argued that women use it for other reasons than just pregnancy prevention. And then I brought my aunt into the argument. I argued that if men can claim that quality of life issue than hom come women like my aunt are denied a breast augmentation after having breast cancer and losing her right breast. My argument was still concerning insurance and the “quality of life issue”! But to her my argument was “pointless and off topic”. I received a D on that paper. Instead of seeing my argument(that yes insurance companies can be sexist…which was the WHOLE point) she just read my paper, saw the voice, and automatically gave me a bad grade. I believe that I made a wonderful point and addressed what I needed to. I feel like in that instance I should not have been punished by the academic world for using voice.

During high school we are shown how to structure an essay (preparing us for college). It is the typical structured piece of writing…introduction, thesis, three supporting paragraphs, and a conclusion. We report what we find in a summary for each supporting topic of the thesis. We are encouraged to research facts proven by individuals in the true academic discourse. And to even support the support, just in case we have not made it comprehensible enough. But if we have an opinion on an issue we must exclude voice. We are told that it will never help support a paper.

So should professors start teaching voice? And if so how? Professors should put together a voice lesson to show students how to put voice in writing, or even just how to set a tone for a paper to have a personalized twist. Basically they need to show students the fine lines between when voice should and should not be used rather than just ignoring voice. We, as students, need to know when voice is allowed and when voice is not allowed. I understand that research papers are not the time to be using voice but a 100 level Women’s Studies class should be!! We should not be discouraged or put down for using voice. We need to be shown when the appropriate time is to be using voice.