Childhood memories: 3. Of many thoughts in one

Until a few years ago, I was one of those kids who used to frequently do favors for other classmates. This included, sometimes, doing their homework.  I never knew why I did it because I never got recognition and only a few thanked me for doing it. I wasn’t paid and moved closer to being branded a geek every time I did it. I think I did it because I wanted to know that I knew. I wanted to know that I knew what was taught better and if perspectives could be changed in the things I did.

One particular moment I remember vaguely (but fondly) is when I was in Higher Secondary School. We were given a class assignment by our English teacher to write a paragraph on something ( I’m not sure what it was ). The next day, I found me and and only a few had done it. I was approached by some classmates to help them and, voilà, a few minutes later, I wrote paragraphs for 3 of my classmates.

When our teacher came to class, he asked how many had done the assignment and was disappointed that only a few had done the assignment. The teacher asked a few people who’d done the assignment to stand up and read out what they had written. Four people stood up including me and two others for whom I had done the homework.

We, one by one, read out our paragraphs as the teacher stood there silently listening to us. After we were done, our teacher analysed the paragraphs for us. He told me that my paragraph was slightly weaker and that the phrases I used didn’t quite match up. He gave different responses to the other two for whom I had written the paragraphs. For one, he said, the grammar was not quite up to standard but the creativity was amazing while for the other one that the phrases were very well constructed and the she had a strong control of language.

I don’t know about my friends but I was about to die laughing in silence as our teacher started comparing my paragraph with another one that I had written for a classmate. Mine was considered a very bad style of writing while another one that I wrote was regarded as very good style of writing. Oh how I wished the teacher found out that he was judging the writing of the same person. But hey! I didn’t want to get into trouble.

I found a lesson in all of that. The lesson for me was that I was sometimes a good writer and sometimes a bad one. It depended more on what I had in my mind then and how my mood was. I also found out that I can write in many styles which contradict each other  (although one may be very bad). Funny how many thoughts and styles can be from the same person, isn’t it?

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