Good Example Of Learning English In Writing Essay

I remember my first English language encounter. I was a five-year-old. Four years prior to first day at school, dad bought me an illustrated book which was written in a language he told me was English. "English" I repeated inquiringly. I was left to flip through pages all day. When dad was back home, he sat by my side, picked my English book, pointed to me upon which I came closer and he started reading. That was first time I listened to English at home, in person, not on TV. That day on, English became an integral part of my daily life, personal and, later, professional.
Two years later, English became a regular on my study desk. After I finished school work, I used to pick an abridged novel from a library dad created from scratch for us, my siblings and myself. Until late at night, I used to read adventure novels and thrills. Indeed, I was so consumed mom had to snatch me off my couch to go sleep so I would not be late for school next day. Typically, set restrictions on a kid and he starts to look for ways around. In order to enjoy my secret fun, I had to fold my favorite stories within my schoolbooks.
My real break came when I went to first book flea market ever in my life. There, I spent hours and hours reading, standing, whatever I could and noted down words I could not understand. The list, I remember, included words such as, "pickle," "UFO," "fella," "iceberg," "crumbs," "silhouette," "congestion" and "pissed off". First, I used to memorize new words but, over time, newness lapsed into oblivion. Often, I had to learn words over and again. I grew frustrated and did not know what to do to enjoy reading, uninterrupted. Then came a big break in learning English words better. That was when I started composition classes. Writing! How could I ever miss a skill I used a mirror of – reading – all along! As a little kid, I needed guidance in order to proceed on my own later.
As a matter of fact, I did enjoy every bit of writing I did at school and home. Apparently, instructors used to tell me, I would be a great writer. I did not realize why. But, given how I came to acquire new vocabulary quickly as I read more and practiced writing more and more, I discovered how I came to love to express myself in writing. Earlier, I used to draw a little, on paper, glass and wood. But, after a while, I abandoned drawing for no apparent reason. (Now, probably, I can see how one find his actual calling and capacity.) I was a straight A student in all English classes. Motivated, I applied for school competitions for writing and I won, not all, but enough of them to think of writing as a potential career, not just a passion. I finished high school and started to look around.
Although I majored in engineering (I was good at calculus, algebra and physics), I pursued my passion for writing in earnest. I started to visit local storytelling societies not only for reading more stories and novels I did not find elsewhere but also to learn creative writing. Indeed, I joined a number of workshops. I entered into a number of competitions which I won few. However, being an engineering major consumed a lot of time in an area completely different from creative writing and self expression in words. After all, my passion for self expression never faltered, only ebbing and flowing.
After graduation, having accumulated reasonable "literacy" experience, I opted for a more creative life in writing. I started off as an independent reporter for a local paper. First, I was assigned editing jobs which I did not like much. I wanted to create my stuff. I wanted to do research, brainstorm, write form scratch and follow up based on readers' feedback. That was a starter's imagination. I had to learn writing is not only a craft of mastering words and apparent meanings but one mastered only when life is mastered.
Gaining life experiences, I came to understand, is something which requires full immersion not in words per se but in virtual and actual experiences of oneself and others. That lesson came full circle when, upon reflection, I recalled when dad first came home holding a book in his hands. That very first book was a real eye opener and an unprecedented insight into worlds – in different language – I was never to be exposed to unless someone or something let me in. Indeed, what started as a passion for words of a different language now came full circle into a soul searching path for self- actualization. There is not, probably, no profession more than writing requires perpetual questioning of work values and beliefs.
Mentors? This is not a straightforward question in writing case. Although one might seek advice from higher-ups as part of a formal mentoring program in a multinational company or informal advice via professional networking, mentoring for writing in English – and, for that matter, in any other language – is something one acquires by more self immersion into life experiences of oneself and others.
If I learned to communicate – and write – in English, one most important lesson is I learned self invention by re-enacting life experiences on paper and back to life.