English

English

During high school English was one of my worst subjects despite the fact that English is my first language. However, in boarding school my academic performance in the subject improved. I attribute this change to two factors: a greater emphasis on analysis and the importance of writing from the heart.


While articulating oneself clearly and appropriately in any given context is important, I do feel that it is better to take just as much effort (if not more)  to observe and analyse various media and literature before expressing oneself. At the very least a greater emphasis on the former two aspects assists in giving some sort of template. Moreover, there are too many ignorant and thoughtless comments and views that are shared  on our social media platforms.  At the very least we should seek to only express ourselves after listening to all key parties to any story. The biblical phrase, "Be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to anger," springs to mind.

I also attribute my improved my performance to my English teachers in boarding school. They were passionate about the subject and even offered the best piece of advice I have ever heard with regards to creative writing. During the early days of my tenure at boarding school, the advice was along the lines of expressing yourself and experiences in your work. Acting upon this advice did wonders for my writing. In fact, I wonder if I can somehow grab a copy of the essays I wrote in those days, for I am convinced that I expressed myself as best as I could during those days.

Prior to this advice,  I had very synthetic approaches to essays most of the time; I was trying to be scientific/professional or poorly copying a particular writing style. This approach divorced my voice and my personal experience from my writing.

I will end this post with some of the most thought provoking poems I came across during those days, which I had really labored to find. It's title is Strangers Forever by Amin Kassam. It is melancholic and  disturbingly thought provocative:


Each of us 
is a passenger
seated in one huge
compartment
going we do not know where
all strangers
thrown together by chance
who travel without arriving;
Who can read the whispers
of your mind
when they are hidden
even from you?
Though you open a window
in the chambers of your heart
though you strive to say
what you feel
and in striving reach
 a state of understanding
there is still one part
one small part
that remains your own
one part
that neither I nor anyone else
will ever penetrate.
    Forever strangers.