I just wanted to be a writer

When I was a child and going to school the two subjects that scared me the most were Math and Reading, or more precisely English. I fumbled through those subjects like walking through a riverbed in a rushing stream, with great difficulty. I never thought that I would catch on. But yet when I became a young adult I wanted to be a writer. Iwanted to be able to put words on paper and have those who read them,be able to visualize what I wrote. To be able to build a story and have it unfold in the readers mind and make sense. Maybe even be able to write something that might actually help them in some way. But first I had to learn how to spell and use words correctly. I had a English class in 8Th grade and the teachers name was Mr. Sullivan. He was a tall, silver haired man with a small moustache. H reminded me of a British professor. Not because of the way he spoke but because of the bow tie that he wore. A little red bow tie. Anyway I had a good feeling about this class and I was determined to learn anything and everything I could that would help me to become a great writer. Weather or not that ever happened is a whole other story. Mr. Sullivan would start every Monday morning off by handing out a list of vocabulary words. He told us as he was handing these out,that we had to learn how to spell these words and look them up in the dictionary, write the words and their meanings down on paper five times each. Then we would have a spelling test on those words on Thursday. Then on Friday we were to write a story using these words in there proper form. I think that assignment was the greatest and most beneficial I have ever come across. I not only learned how to spell hundreds of words, I also learned what they meant and how to use them. Thanks to Mr. Sullivan I was on my way to being a writer and broadening my vocabulary ten fold. Kudos to you Mr. Sullivan for caring enough to make us work for our creativity.