Hello...It's Me.

Honestly, as I sat down to write this, and may I add after procrastinating for what felt like months (a little exaggerative, but you get the point), I still feel as though I can’t really pinpoint one thing to sum up my variety of experiences as a writer into the single heading of “why.” So, just as with any work of writing, I hope you’ll take on this journey with me and by the end of this I might be able to provide you, and me, an answer.

Now, where did I even start? As a kid, I was weird. And like not the normal weird. I mean I was really very weird. I remember in 2nd grade, I was that nerdy girl whose mom forced her to wear khakis with a belt and a hot pink turtle neck sweater. And let me tell you did I stand out. I would pull the belt so tight that you would think there was not a drop of blood flowing through my legs because it was cutting off half of my body’s circulation. And I did this purely due to the fear of having a boy see my underwear (how scandalous!) So, as I’m sure you could already guess, I wasn’t much of a talker, as many weird kids tend not to be. I spoke when spoken to, and to be quite frank, that’s a characteristic that has always stuck with me, even today.

I’m that kid that always, I mean always, sits in the very back of the class and doesn’t really pitch into the conversation unless something really makes me mad, nearly forcing me to pipe up. In every conversation I’ve ever had with a teacher, I hear for the millionth, maybe millionth and one time, “Nikki you really can make positive contributions to discussion, you just need to raise your hand more!” Ugh. Anxiety ridden, I always mention how I’m more of a listener. I’ve learned through my academics that I really thrive off of others, I learn more from sitting and absorbing the conversation rather than partaking in it. Like many others, I have a fear that what I’m saying is really stupid, so I tend to keep my opinions to myself or my family. But as I sit here talking to all of you, I’m not afraid. When it comes to writing, I feel like what I have to say can be perfectly crafted and further thought out, making my ideas crisp and clear.

Take this Writing 220 class for example; I think I may have actually volunteered to talk twice total throughout this entire semester. I love talking in small groups or even partners, but when it comes to full class discussion, I just can’t do it. I really can’t. It’s like someone is taping my mouth shut before I come to class every day, causing me to choke if I ever did summon up the courage to raise my hand. But when it comes to my writing, I feel so confident in what I turn in for the most part that it doesn’t even matter if I’m talking in class or not. It doesn’t even matter if I’m raising my hand, because I know what I want to be said will be heard, through my writing. I make positive contributions through blog posts and blog comments, so I know what I am saying is indeed crisp and clear and the most beneficial it can be. This is a lot of the reason I chose to write a child narrative for my repurposing project. I feel the struggle students of all ages have over being able to project how they really feel with their physical voice. Through writing, children, and myself, are able to open up in their own free world and make a statement with ink on paper.

Now back to third grade, I remember writing a story about a Christmas candle. Yes, because I was in third grade, it was very elementary and didn’t really have the best plot or characters, but I was so proud of it the day I turned it in. I had never been more proud of something in my entire life. I remember spending nearly two full hours gluing lined paper to red and green construction paper because it looked fancy. I wrote the fully story in cursive, yes probably the only time I’ve ever written anything in cursive, double spaced, with a full finger space in between each word. I included very elaborate illustrations because I really needed to bring the story to life. I remember the day we were supposed to get those back, and I was so eager to see the commentary. My teacher, Mrs. Kuriluk, walked around the room right before

the bell was going to ring for recess and passed out every single story, every single one except mine. “Nikki, I’d like to see you before you go to recess please,” she announced. You can imagine the look on my face. I nearly shit my pants. I had never been in trouble in my whole life, did I fail? Did my story suck? She hated it, I knew it. As all of my peers got up to go play outside, I walked slowly and ever so solemnly to Mrs. Kuriluk’s desk. She could see me sweating, but gave me a reassuring look. “Sweetie, this story was beautiful. I’m amazed by how well-written it is and I want to keep it to show my future classes.” Now I bet you imagine my face going 0-100 real quick. That day, I had come to the realization that I wrote because it was the one safe space I had to talk. To talk about life, to create a whole new world, or even to teach something new. And I loved it.

I would say the one assignment I have never been more proud of in my entire life has shifted from the Christmas candle, and now would be my remediation project, my website titled, “Teaching is a Work of Heart.” I truly have never been more proud of myself in my academic career. The very last night I finished that assignment and hit the submit button, I think I actually shed a tear. I was so proud of myself for hopping outside of my comfort zone to work in a completely different writing element than what I was used to, and for emulating this deep passion of mine for others to see. I texted my whole family and a ton of my best friends to click on my link and view the month long work I had been doing. Creating this interesting website on such a detailed topic for people to possibly use in the future was exhilarating. And I loved it.

Let’s look at my junior year of high school. After taking some basic Honors English classes the two years before, I decided to challenge myself with Honors Philosophy, which by word of mouth was one of the harder classes offered at Northville High. Nervous, yet excited to try something new, I was welcomed by my most beloved high school teacher, Ms. Rohde. The first part of the class was all about learning philosophical ideas and theories, and we really enjoyed that. But toward the beginning of our second semester, we did something called the “Soul Project.” To this day, this has to be the most memorable assignment I’ve ever done. The only instructions we had were to think of a deep soul secret and share it both on paper and in some other visual dimension. I thought long and hard about this, and eventually knocked it out of the park in a single day. The day they were due, Ms. Rohde had time set aside for us to share. And although we weren’t required to, she definitely encouraged us to. And there was no coincidence that it was me, all the way in the back row,

whose eyes she glanced at while saying that. Being the person I was, there was no way in hell I was going to share mine. I barely knew these people, why did they need to know about my life? But, as many people shared and continued to really expose their soul secrets, I, like I always did, continued to absorb the conversation. I was really moved that day, and when I say I felt it, I mean I really felt it. I remember one girl sharing her journey through battling an eating disorder, and I had tears rolling down my face. It was amazing how brave she was to tell us that. That day, I got up and shared to the whole class my deepest secret and cracked out of my very closed shell. That day, I shared my writing voice out loud to a real audience, and truth is, I wasn’t that scared.

Now, here I am, telling you people who I may barely know or who I may know very well, who I am not only as a writer, but a person. Why? I’m not quite sure, but I know I feel confident in it. Through this final project in Writing 220, “Why I Write,” I am able to not physically, but mentally break out of my shell and share with you the passion I have toward writing. Though I am not sharing my true physical voice, I am sharing a special part of me I haven’t really gotten to through my writing before, and I’m really not that scared.

Now, I’m a sophomore in college and developing my writing voice on levels I would have never imagined. Since that one day when I was 17, I have yet to really jump completely out of my shell and become a regular basis “talker” in class, but I guess you could say this has really brought me to pursue the Writing minor. As you will see throughout my ePortfolio, I am pursuing a career in Education. As a future teacher, I write for my future students. I write because I want them to know that being the quiet kid is okay, and even if they don’t talk in class I know they’re listening. I write because every child deserves a chance to be inspired by their own voice, follow their dreams wherever they may take them, and make a change. I write because this is my voice, and I want it to be heard.