My Mom is always the number 1. Thanks for being a great mother. Two men helped me feel the pride of success. Thanks to my father and my husband. The text was inspired by Dr Claude Hurlbert.
Through the Eyes of a Writer: A Journey of Learning, Discovering, and Transforming: Part 2
Entisar Elsherif, Libya
Entisar Elsherif comes from Libya. She is currently a doctoral candidate at the Composition and TESOL program at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. She is almost completing her coursework, almost an ABD. E-mail: e.elsherif66@yahoo.com
“Dedicated to all second language writers, especially Libyan ladies who fought for their lives, their existence, and for the taste of success.”
Menu
The Beginning of the Journey of Learning English
Poem: Reading with Ladybird
Entering the World of Writing: Short Stories
Poem: Writing a Short Story
The Shocking and Rewarding Discovery: Academic Writing
Poem: Capturing the Haunting Fear
Discovering an Astonishing Type of Writing
Poem: Writing a Journal
Conducting Research and Writing a Dissertation
Proficiency Tests and My Anxiety
Poem: IELTS
References
Sharon once wrote as a response to one of my blogs that were related to the Second Language Acquisition course that I “have had an interesting life with languages” and she wished she was so lucky. She added, “I guess you should classify yourself as having "multi-competencies."” I felt I was lucky. I think before Sharon wrote that, I didn’t think about it at all. Since I saw her comment, I thought she was right. My father’s work made him travel around the world and I was lucky that I got the chance not only to see the world, but also to learn about the varied and different languages that are there in the world. Since I was a child, I was fascinated by those languages. I liked learning languages. I enjoyed imitating people and trying to pronounce words exactly as they were said. Before I learn English, I was able to speak Italian and communicate effectively in Turkish.
Learning English was in a formal classroom environment. My father enrolled both my brothers and me with other Libyan children in the American school in Ankara. We were a bunch of kids who were excited about being able to communicate effectively in a language other than their native language. We used to speak Turkish in the English classroom. I still remember how our teacher asked us not to speak Turkish in class again and again without being able to convince us. Can you imagine a group of children talking all day in Turkish rather than Arabic? I think it’s the amazement and pleasure of the ability to use another language that made us forget about our first language.
A beautiful Pakistani teacher used to teach us English. I still remember how she used to dress and how I was captivated by her long black hair and the bracelets she had on her wrists. The class was warm and inviting. The walls were full of posters of the English alphabet and related to the stories we then read. She started teaching us the alphabets using songs. I still remember the first song.
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
NOW I KNOW MY ABCs HAPPY HAPPY I WILL BE
When I sing it to my daughter, she says: “No mom, it’s not like that. Kathy, her teacher, says: next time won’t you sing with me!” I always laugh and say: “But my teacher sang it like that.” She keeps going and won’t stop until I sing it as she wants.
After mastering the English letters’ song, we started writing the alphabets. This was my first experience with writing in English. I still remember how she taught us to write in strangely lined papers. There were four lines, the two that were close to each other were between the other two. Those lines were different from the papers we wrote on in Arabic. In Arabic, we wrote on one line but in English they were four and there were rules that we had to follow to have nice and neat handwriting. For me, it was amusement to follow her while she wrote the letter and showed us where to start and where to end. She insisted that we write between these lines, strictly keeping within the borders. I am sure that her way of teaching us how to write letters is behind my clear handwriting as a teacher.
Then, she brought Ladybird books to the class. Ladybird collections were pocket-size and in different levels. She started with books that had single sentences on each page, and then she introduced us to different levels until we got to the level where we were able to read a whole story. At that time, reading aloud was a famous way of getting students involved in reading. I was so attached to the books. Although writing at that time was only related to copying sentences from the books, this stage of learning English played a great role in my language fluency. I think it’s worth mentioning that this teacher was the one who inspired me to become a language teacher. I was so attached to the way she taught that the first time I taught English, I taught using songs exactly like her. I still remember how my students were singing happily and learning the new language enthusiastically.
In the colorful class
We are reading in English
With Ladybird
We used to read in turns
Before..
Reading in English was frightening
Now.. I’m not afraid
Of what I can’t read
Or difficult to pronounce
Ladybird is my dreamland
Ladybird
Full of pictures and people
We don’t know
Single sentences
Paragraphs
Finally, a whole story
Full of breathtaking surprises
Ladybird..
Made learning English an exciting story
Ladybird..
Made reading a wonderful journey.
I come from a culture that values story-telling. Story telling is in every Libyan’s nature. I grew up listening to my parents’ and grandparents’ stories. Those stories were about everything. They preserved cultural values, folktales, myths, and legends. They also were about how our grandparents fought Italians for our country’s freedom. They included fairytales and magic, as well. With all of this around, another source of stories was fruitful; my father’s tall dark brown bookcase. It was full of stories from around the world. I don’t know exactly when I started reading those books. All I know is that it was like a magical island that I loved to spend time on.
Since both of my grandfathers were dead, my grandmothers were the basic source of stories. Their stories were about many varied topics. My siblings and I used to listen with amazement each night. My paternal grandmother, (May she rest in peace), was a marvelous story teller. She also knew lots of Libyan traditional poetry that I was not sure whether she was the one who composed, or whether she just memorized them. The fact that she might have memorized most of them was incredible. My grandmother from my mother’s side was the city lady who would tell us stories that were about castles and magic. Even our relatives had their impact on me. They used to tell us stories whenever they spent time at our home.
In such an environment, you won’t be able to resist the pleasure of writing stories. I had always wondered whether my success in writing stories was because of my family members or my father’s books. Now, I know that it is a result of a mixed formula. In Arabic, writing stories was a result of this formula. But, writing short stories in English was a result of my Arabic style.
I had never written short stories in English before. I do not remember being taught how to write short stories. Suddenly, I found myself faced by the challenge of writing a short story in English. I was in Coventry, UK, and it was my first day in Henley College. Our teacher named Rosemary asked us to write a short story. I was in shock. It was my first day, but for the others it was not. They seemed to know what to do. As soon as she clicked her timer, they started to write. It was a class that was preparing students to take Cambridge First Certificate test. I felt uncomfortable. I was annoyed that she did not care about the fact that it was my first day. When I tried to tell her whispering, trying to remind her, she just asked me to try.
I was so mad at her, although I seemed so calm. I am not a student who likes to fight teachers. I gave up and stared at my papers. Those blank papers reminded me of how I wrote in Arabic. The idea seemed interesting. I was telling myself, “Why would I turn in a blank paper when I can use my previous experience with writing stories?” I was not sure if it was the right style but I decided to follow that anyway.
The topic was about a boy who was playing in the garden and got dirty. The first lines were there in front of me, and I was supposed to write what happened after that. I thought of myself as this child’s mom, and I wrote the rest of the story. To be honest, I wasn’t thinking in English. I was thinking in Arabic and writing in English at the same time. I was so busy writing the story that I lost track of time. I didn’t realize how fast the timer was until our teacher said: “5 minutes.” She meant that there were only five minutes remaining. I revised my story quickly and wrote a final paragraph as a conclusion. I was satisfied with my work but was not sure that it was the right style. When the alarm went off, we started handing our papers to the student near us, so she would collect them and give them to our teacher.
I spent all the week thinking of what I had written. I was dying to know my grade. I wanted to have a high one. I was praying that I did very well.
The day came; she brought our papers and handed them over to us. There weren’t grades. I was not expecting that. There were corrected mistakes in red and comments only. On mine, on the left side of the paper there was: “V. good!” I felt disappointed. I was looking for a grade. I was expecting feedback that would develop my writing. All I got was a handout that told me about the parts of the story. Stuff I already knew.
No matter how disappointing this experience was, it taught me a lesson that I learned very well. I would never submit a blank paper. I would always try to follow my thoughts whenever I felt lost and was not sure about how to write. I depended on my style and I succeeded. Yes, writing styles are different, but sometimes the difference works, especially when writing stories.
On my first day of school,
In a community college
We were asked to write..
A short story
She clicked the timer
And asked us to write
What?
I whispered: “it’s my first day”
She smiled encouraging.. “just try”
Stared at the blank paper for a while
Then, I wondered
Why don’t I use the Arabic style?
Surprisingly, it worked
I still write using my own style.
Before I went to the UK, I had never heard of the phrase “academic writing.” All I knew at that time was writing in English that would be related to topics that were chosen by our instructors. I don’t even remember what we were assigned to write about.
After taking a two week IELTS preparation course that prepared me for the IELTS test, I took the test and scored a 6.5. My highest score was in writing 7.0 and my lowest was in reading. Let’s keep this score secret. I was ashamed of it, although many of my friends told me not to. I have always thought that I should have scored higher than that. As my score was not the score that was required by Warwick University, I decided to move to Newcastle upon Tyne to study there. At that time, I had two unconditional offers from two different universities: Newcastle University and Northumbria University. I wanted to study at Northumbria, but my academic manager in the Libyan embassy refused and asked me to study at Newcastle University. He told me that the Northumbria University’s rank was not acceptable by the embassy’s standard. However, they allowed another Libyan student to study in the same program just because her father was a powerful figure in Libya.
After moving from Coventry and settling in our new house within a limited time, I was sitting in the front rows during the orientation week. All I can remember is how I was scared by a topic that I had never heard of. ‘Plagiarism’ was the new challenge that pushed me forward. It encouraged me to understand its meaning and learn how to avoid plagiarizing and become an academic writer.
During the orientation week, they kept talking about this. I guessed that was with the aim of raising awareness to the importance of having a personal style and avoiding “stealing” others ideas and words.
As nearly all of the students were international students who came from cultures that looked at plagiarism in a different way, this lecture was of significance. When he, I can’t remember the lecturer’s name, started to define plagiarism, I was in shock. I discovered that the paper I wrote many years ago as the graduation project and was so proud of was regarded as plagiarized since many of the texts I used were not acknowledged appropriately. I did not expect to hear facts about plagiarism that would make me a plagiarist. I was shaking: a new topic, a new area, and a new way of thinking and writing.
I was there in the second row of that hall feeling small, ignorant, and ashamed. The lecturer kept slapping me on the face with words and areas I did not hear of in my whole life. Then, he introduced the consequences of plagiarism. As soon as he started talking about that, my heart sank deep inside and I was nearly struggling with my breathing.
I had been so excited about being able to study at an appreciated university. That pleasure of being in the UK and studying at a credited university was now diminishing. There were other thoughts that invaded every inch of my mind. I was thinking of a suitable way of upgrading my mind and avoiding all the threats he was throwing at us.
To make the situation worse, he started talking about quoting, paraphrasing, and summarizing as strategies of avoiding plagiarism. It was not as easy as it seems now when I’m telling you about what happened. I was living an earthquake. All those years vanished. I found that the identity that I was so proud of was considered as plagiaristic. The paper that all my friends asked me to read as a sample was not my work. It was a copied version of others’ ideas and words. At that time, I was praying to God not to fail the challenges before me. Yes, he was introducing ways of avoiding being accused as plagiarists. But, those were unknown areas to me, as well.
I don’t remember how time passed. All that night was spent thinking of ‘plagiarism’ and writing effective assignments. What lessened my suffering was that there were non-credited courses that were free and aimed at showing international students how to write assignments and dissertations with some focus on plagiarism. As soon as I heard about the course that focused on writing assignments, I decided to attend it. It was once a week for two months. This course showed me how to analyze the assignments’ questions and read and write critically. It also focused on referencing, citing and acknowledging sources. It showed me how to use sources and taught me the appropriate in-text citations.
My perspectives as a writer changed significantly. Yes. I discovered what was known as academic writing. For me, this was a new discovery, eventually. It was a new me. After attending each class of this course, I would go to the library and borrow all the books that our teacher included in her list for further reading. I still remember how I used to go through our handbook and the other books to be sure that it was the right way and I was not plagiarizing. Then, I attended the course that showed us how to write a dissertation which cemented what I already knew about referencing and citing sources. In Brief, as Betty Bender’s quote states, “Anything I’ve ever done that ultimately was worthwhile, initially scared me to death.”
It’s the orientation week
The pleasure of being in the UK
Dissolved
The excitement of studying in the UK
Demolished
Our professor is on the platform
Staring..
Trying to convey seriousness
Threatening..
“From getting F to being expelled”
Plagiarism..
The lingering nightmare
Is it a scary monster, a ghost, or an alien?
But no…
It’s a committed academic crime
Tried to ease my sudden tension
Tried to follow his vaporing speech
After stating the consequences
Introduced ways of avoidance
Panicked, as if it was not enough
Paraphrase, summarize, quote
What on the earth are those?
That incident felt being a foreigner
A stranger who knows nothing
Ignorance drove me crazy
Prayed, “Oh God, forgive my ignorance”
That moment changed my life….
Instantaneous change
An inner voice grumbled
“Do not accept your lack of knowledge”
His advice was… “When in doubt, cite”
His final words captured my haunting fears
I’m not a plagiarist
I’m up to the challenge.
I have never written journals in English before I started taking courses at Newcastle University. Writing journals was one of Dr Zhu Hua’s Cross-cultural Communication course requirements. From the first class, she informed us that we were going to write journals for each class. Although I had no idea about how a journal looked like, I was so excited. It was a new experience for me which motivated me to learn how to express myself in a variety of ways. Each class’s handout had the topic that was related to our readings. What was magnificent about those topics was that they were related to my culture. Thus, they were personal in a kind of way. After writing 14 journals for that course, I was so attached to the idea of writing journals.
Since the poetry inquiry assignment was about our literacy experience, I was convinced that the experience of writing 14 journals in English had to be included. So, I decided to write a poem about this experience.
Writing a Journal
I still remember Dr Zhu Hua. She was young and beautiful. Her voice and English were different. I was not sure that everyone could hear her until I noticed that there were students from the back who answered some of her questions. I love sitting in the front rows. I never sit in the back rows except if I was forced to. Since I was close to her, I was following her, not just by listening, but as she moved my eyes moved with her. I was amazed how her English sounded different and this did not prevent her from becoming an effective university teacher. Back there in Libya, we were taught that we have to have a native-like accent and fluency. This idea diminished when I studied abroad.
She showed us the syllabus. At that moment, I was attached to her PowerPoint presentation more than the content. It was the first time I saw someone teaching using such technology. Yes, some of the lecturers during the orientation week had their presentations in PowerPoint, but I didn’t think that all of my lectures would be as attention-grabbing as that. Excuse me; I came from a culture where the blackboard and chalk were the dominant teaching aids. If a teacher wanted to be creative, he/she would be using photos or handmade pictures. As a teacher, I remember how I used to take my tape-recorder to be able to use it in class to listen to the lessons’ recorded dialogues. By that time, I had never seen a whiteboard.
As I was writing my poem for the literacy class at IUP, I remembered how I used to write those journals that were assigned by Dr Hua. When I used to write in Arabic, I used to sit in my parent’s house balcony, mostly at night. Libyan nights are so heart touching and intimate. You could see the shining stars. We lived close to the sea, so, the sounds of the waves breaking on the beach were mixed with the sounds of the waving leaves. Palm trees were everywhere. The rustle of their leaves made a special kind of music I can’t describe. The night insects whistled all the night. This kind of nightly music had the power to calm you down and you could become a poet in no time. I used to write without spending so much time thinking of what to write.
Writing those journals always took me to my town. Tajoura was a beautiful place before they started to change it to become urban and left it like a place that got visited by a Tsunami. Since Qaddafi took power, Tajoura’s situation changed from bad to worse and aggravated to worst every year. They neither left it as it was, a green place surrounded by vegetable farms and palm trees, nor changed it to be a civilized city.
When I started thinking about how I used to write and hear all those amazing sounds, I forgot that I was abroad and started writing my journals with a joy. The pleasure of being able to live that life was behind the birth of 14 journals, even if it was in my daydreams. Each night in my office in Newcastle upon Tyne I travelled to Tajoura in my mind. All my journals were born during this journey. All the excitement of writing about my culture was a result of this secret space travel to those old days.
Now, I know that the challenges of writing in English can be beaten by engaging in writing journals in English. After writing those journals, writing the assignment itself was not difficult. Dr Zhu Hua taught us how to relate what we have learned about cultural varieties to ours and be able to differentiate between ours and the other cultures. She gave us the chance to choose from a list of topics for the final assignment. I chose to write about nonverbal communication and related all the readings to what I experienced. I got an A for that class just because she made me write journals that were related to our readings and our daily activities. Writing was not challenging anymore. “Because writing is a skill, it makes sense that the more you practice writing, the better you will write. One excellent way to get practice writing, even before you begin composing essays, is to keep a daily or almost daily journal” (Lagan, 2000, p.14). This quote makes sense more than before now.
On my first class… She said
“You’ll submit a journal every class”
This night…
sitting on my comfortable couch
I watch the skies…
Missing my stars
Imagining the Libyan nights
I see the stars
I hear
The rustle of the leaves
Sea waves whispering to the beach
As they break on the sand
Music of the night insects
My eyes are closed…
Waiting for inspiration
Papers are blank
A sudden lightening in my mind
Unexpectedly,
English letters invade the papers
It strikes how a journal born
Comes to life…
Every night.
Studying at Newcastle University had a great impact on me. It changed my academic identity from an ignorant to a successful researcher. Yes, it did. Before I studied at this university, I didn’t know what academic writing meant. All I used to do was to express myself about certain topics. When it came to writing for academic purposes, I was ignorant. I went through a tough time, but the results were rewarding. I attended noncredit courses that developed my writing abilities and showed me how to give credit when I copied something from any book I read. But what made my writing proficiency develop, played a great role, and made a difference was writing my MA dissertation. In the UK, MA students write dissertations and PhD students write theses. When I started my study at IUP, I found out that MA students write theses and PhD students write Dissertations. I didn’t expect this difference. I’m still trying to get used to the changes but it seems hard for some reason.
Anyway, Research Methods in Applied Linguistics introduced us to research methods. It was taught by three contributors. One of them was Dr Mei Lin. Dr Mei Lin was the Degree Program Director of the MA in Applied Linguistics and TESOL at that time. I think she’s still the program director. She taught me two other courses and then she was my MA dissertation supervisor. I decided to have her as my supervisor during one of her classes. She was talking about some students’ previous research that was considered successful. One of the dissertations that caught my attention was supervised by her. I still remember the content of that study. It was conducted by a Chinese student and looked at Chinese students’ academic writing difficulties. By looking at my experiences with academic writing and the differences I found between what we were taught in Libya and what we found here, I decided to conduct a similar research. Since I was confronted similar problems, the topic was of significance. I predicted that most of the Libyan students had the same experiences and I wanted to know how Libyan students felt and what they did to overcome their academic problems. What started as a replica changed to a more focused and interesting topic that made me achieve excellence for that dissertation.
Dr Mei Lin did not say anything that would discourage me or reject my proposal on the grounds that it was a replica of what has been done. She didn’t even force me to change it. Her strategy helped me see what was beyond that topic. At that time many friends were telling me to change my supervisor because they thought that she was tough and they thought I would not survive with her. But, she was better than their expectations and encouraged me to do my best. I will never forget her for her exceptional advise and support.
Although my idea started as replicating another study, after reading so much, my study changed. Yes, it did. My final product, my dissertation, was completely different from my proposal. Reading was behind that. My reading list was so long and covered many books and research studies. Reviewing the literature that was relevant to the topic encouraged me to look at feedback and Libyan students’ views about it. Then I decided to collect my data using questionnaires and interviews. My data was collected from Libyan students in the UK universities and their tutors/supervisors.
In fact, the Libyan students helped me conduct my research successfully. One-hundred and eight Libyan students from eighteen universities participated by answering my questionnaire. I didn’t know most of them. I sent emails to students that my husband knew at that time and they started forwarding my email to Libyan students they knew. Another strategy that helped me get more participants was by emailing international offices in many UK universities. These forwarded my email to the Libyan students who were studying at their universities. Some of the students replied those emails. I was so amazed at how they were willing to participate, even though they didn’t know me. I will never forget that my success in conducting my research was due to their willingness to help.
Besides, eight supervisors answered my questionnaire. I was supposed to conduct interviews with those supervisors but they asked me to send the questions via email because of their busy schedules. Therefore, I decided to send the interview questions via emails. When I told Dr Lin about that, she understood and she gave me the permission to do that. I am also grateful to those tutors/supervisors because they were willing to participate and helped me collect reliable data that enriched my study.
Writing the dissertation taught me great lessons. It not only showed me how to conduct a research study but also helped in forming my new academic identity. Before going to the UK, research writing was equivalent to reading books and copying parts that would go with my intention. After that, research meant more than just reading and copying. This extended to writing about personal thoughts and copying. It showed me how to investigate, explore topics of interest, address various issues and problems, narrow my interest to questions that could be investigated, write proposals and be prepared to change according to what I found during reading for literature review. It also showed me how to choose my participants, choose the appropriate method, think carefully about questionnaires that would assist me in collecting valuable and reliable data, gather my related and reliable sources, read and write critically, rewrite according to my supervisor’s feedback, and be ready to accept criticism.
When I got back to my country, the first thing I did was showing my dissertation to my father. I was filled with pride. I felt like I accomplished what had been “mission impossible”. After studying in the UK, I decided that I will teach my students how to write academically and not just to express themselves. I promised myself that I won’t let anyone of my students experience what I experienced when I was in the UK. Accordingly, when I was given the chance to change the curriculum for the writing courses, I included everything I learned in this journey. I am so proud that I was the one who started the journey of changing the old curriculum, made a difference by negotiating the existing ideas and introducing new ones that would develop our students’ writing.
As a second language user, I had to take certain types of proficiency tests to prove that I was a competent user. Since I decided to pursue my studies and be up to the challenge of studying in a PhD program, I had to take one of the proficiency tests that were required by the American universities. I had to take either the British test, IELTS, or the American test, TOEFL. IELTS is the International English Language Testing System and TOEFL is the Test of English as a Foreign Language. I decided to take the two. Since I had taken the IELTS test when I was in the UK, I decided to take it first. So, I registered for the test. At the same time, I registered in a TOEFL preparation course.
IELTS tests second language users’ proficiency in listening, reading, writing and speaking. At that time, the scariest part of the test was reading as a result of the previous scores. The previous time, my lowest score was in reading. So, when I was preparing for the test, all my focus was on enhancing my reading strategies. I’m a slow reader. So, I needed to practice reading and responding to questions very fast. To be honest, I don’t understand why they have added this strict time constrain to the test. If you compare tests to real life practices of using the language, I don’t read within a very strict time constrain. I still think that those kinds of tests are not fair and somehow discriminate against second language users/learners.
Anyway, on that day, I was so nervous. The fact that this test would decide whether I was going to be eligible to study here in the US or go back home made me more nervous than ever. I’ve always had test anxiety. I sometimes think that I suffer from some kind of phobia that is related to taking tests. But, I don’t think that it’s severe because I’ve always managed to overcome my fears and taken the tests.
My test was in January 2011. On that day, I was so nervous. I remember how I was looking around. I don’t know why, but I always watch other test takers’ facial expressions and try to comfort myself. Looking at their relaxed appearances I was telling myself; “Look at them! They seem so calm. So, calm down. You’ll be fine.”
The pre-test procedures were humiliating somehow. This procedure of making sure you do not take anything other than the necessary stuff makes you feel exactly the same way as you feel when you go through that machine at the airport. It’s like being a suspect. I left my handbag where they asked me to, and took only the tissue that I needed because I had flu.
When we were asked to follow the examiner to the place where we were going to take the test, I felt so scared. I knew that I was heading towards an unknown future. We were asked to look at two lists to check our places. I looked at the two lists twice and couldn’t find my name. Surprisingly, when I told one of the examiners that I didn’t find my name, she found it as soon as she looked at the first list. It was obvious for me that I was so nervous that I couldn’t see my name.
I entered the first room and found that my name was in the second row of tables. I felt relieved because that meant that I would be close to the tape recorder and I would be able to hear clearly. When I sat on the chair, I was shaking. So, as I would usually do, I said my prayers. Prayers have always reduced my anxiety and made me feel safe. Although it was the first day of my flu, I was able to follow all the instructions in the listening part. Now, I know that if I wasn’t sick that day, I would have done better. But the results were amazingly satisfactory.
Then the reading part started. I remember myself trying to open and close my eyes whenever the texts were blurred because of my sickness. I knew that I had to do my best. When I got to the final passage, I was exhausted. I was praying that I had answered correctly. After that, the writing test started. I don’t know why, but at that time writing was the least of my concerns. I always felt that I could do it. I didn’t even prepare for it. I was sure that I could do it. When I looked at the topic of the second part, I was in shock. What? The topic was about taxes. I’ve never thought about that. To be honest, I’ve never read about it, even in Arabic. I was a supporter of those people who complained about how high the taxes were without seeing actual benefits in my country. Anyway, my teacher’s advice was always to start writing this part first and then tackle the other part of the writing test. Instead, I decided to answer the first question. I don’t remember what it was about but I remember how I studied the two graphs carefully and wrote my report. When I finished, I looked at the second question again. Since I knew I wouldn’t be able to provide points against taxes, I decided to show their benefits. At that time, I was able to outline my ideas mentally. So, I started writing. I wasn’t sure about the points I presented in my essay, but I thought it would be easier to agree with the statement than to disagree.
The Speaking test went smoothly; I had this fear of not being able to answer some questions but I relaxed as soon as I started speaking. It seemed all my questions were easy but I think that my examiner chose the toughest questions. Throughout the test, she was smiling which was comforting. When she asked me to talk about a project I did with others I was perplexed; I didn’t know what to say. I talked but I was not as engaged as I needed to be. I felt that I should have expected such question. Finally, I felt relaxed when she announced the end of the test.
When I received the results, I was not expecting what I got. I aimed for a high score and I was planning to take the test again to get a higher score. This test was supposed to be just a trial. But I was amazed how well I did. My high score made me decide not to take the IBT TOEFL test. I was so happy that my chances of getting an offer from an American university were higher than before.
Faces from around the world
Anxiously waiting…
Impatiently..
Looking around
Some are smiling…
Others are talking
The wall holds me, keeps me standing
I’m shaking..
Terrified..
As if living the judgment day
Checked.. Seated
She is explaining something…
I’m not following
Shivering, I say a prayer
Confidently
I listen and answer
I read and answer
I write whatever comes to my mind
I speak as fluent as I can
Inside.. There is a war
To win or to lose the battle
I’m not sure….
But, I did my best
Relief
She says “Have a nice day”
It’s over.
Lagan, J. (2000).College Writing Skills. London: Longman.
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