Once Upon a Time blah blah blah.
That’s how I feel right now while reflecting on my time here as a senior studying English at The College of Charleston. Now don’t get me wrong, I love it here – but it has been no fairytale. There have been countless tears, sleepless nights fueled by Monster Energy drinks, humbling class discussions, and a plethora of impossible assignments. This school has pushed me to limits I didn’t even know I had.
So then why have I stayed? The answer to such a question requires a lengthy answer that I will instead try to put simply…
The students and professors here are no joke. I have been challenged time and time again by each and every person here – both academically and socially. The College of Charleston population has pushed me to develop an awareness and desire for success.
Now that might sound rather cheesy, and that’s because it is. But it is also true. I transferred to this school as a former biology student who had never written a paper over three pages (That’s not actually true but I can count on one hand how many were college-level, and on one finger how many had a thesis). I found myself in classes where the students were shamelessly curious and had no issue voicing their opinions. It took a solid few months before I found my own voice and was able to do the same.
That part of me was unlocked when I sat down in ENGL 202 (British Literature) after reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and realized I could not keep my feminist mouth shut. Something about Shelley’s novel felt personal. Perhaps it is the way she violates the notion of maternity through Victor… Or maybe how proceeds to introduce a female monster – only then to destroy her. While I could put my literary critic hat on write about this all day (and I have), I honestly believe that it’s because I simply enjoyed reading it. In Karen Prior’s article that intertwines reading with humanity, she writes, “What good literature can do and does do — far greater than any importation of morality — is touch the human soul.” Frankenstein taught me what good literature felt like, and from that point on I realized I was surrounded by not only good, but great literature.
By my junior year, my list of favorite novels and writers had grown exponentially, as had my skills as an English scholar. Gone were the five paragraph essays and chapter books. I entered an upper-level film course with the knowledge that I would have to produce an essay of 12 pages (minimum) that was entirely fueled by my own curiosity. The prompt was that there was no prompt. I finally didn’t think twice about the length, or the amount of energy it would require to craft an original argument. I was given the freedom to showcase my knowledge within the realm of film and as such, chose to dissect my favorite childhood film – Steven Spielberg’s Hook (1991). In an argument discussing the power of narrative, Steven Mintz writes, “Human beings are not just political animals or social beings. We are storytellers who conceive of our lives in terms of narrative episodes. These stories are invariably ideologically laden, reflecting various interests that are often unexamined, unconscious and unrecognized.” In order to continue telling my own story, I decided to intertwine a vital narrative episode of my past with a narrative episode of my future.
I mean it literally when I say that Hook was my identity as a kid. I dressed as Captain Hook, spoke like Captain Hook, and watched the movie hundreds of times. I even went as far as to get a tattoo depicting a notable phrase from the film (see the title of this blog). So, when it came to analyzing it as an academic, my heart broke. I tore that movie to shreds while seeking to prove the futility of genre association. I was forced to overlook its entertainment value and instead criticize its every flaw as a piece of literature. My ability to perform research, develop claims, and question scholarly integrity proved to be a bit too good as I concocted a very convincing argument as to why Hook is actually not a good film.
In an odd way this assignment still proved to me that English is where I am meant to be. I was able to take something I love and tear it apart to create something else I am equally as proud of. Despite performing the entire task alone at a desk, I felt that I was in conversation with a number of people. In my head, I was sitting in a room with film critics, scholars old and new, and even Spielberg himself. Stanford professor Dr. Paula Moya wrote a blog defending the study of literature and cleverly said, “literary fictions typically highlight human subjectivity and the existence of multiple perspectives while also requiring readers to integrate several streams of information at once.” This is precisely the experience I am describing – not only with this project, but all the others I continue to encounter. The line between my personal and academic life has permanently been blurred. I can approach any topic with the mindset and skills of a scholar that allow me look beyond the surface to uncover deeper and hidden meanings.
As it turns out… no assignment is impossible, I still watch the movie Hook (just a bit more cynically), and my version of a Happily Ever After is out there. I just have to get past the pirates and other villains standing in my way.
I love that opening image. I appreciate the sense of challenge you describe at the start–this sense that the College introduced you to an awareness of success, a model of something (a way of addressing texts, a way of engaging in conversation, a way of writing) that you knew you wanted. You use the two key projects here very well as a way to introduce us to some key insights that relate both to your work in the classroom and broader values related to great literature and, well, growing up.
As you begin to think of this essay as a framework for your portfolio, however, you might recast it in a less confessional mode at the start. You have two moves (the opening paragraph on struggle, and the other intro paragraph that relates how unprepared you felt in many ways). Instead, you might try to begin with a new anecdote that captures a reading or writing experience that was powerful and sustaining. Then, you might include some of that confessional stuff as a transitional hinge to the rest of the essay rather that as the basis for the opening move. In the end, you might also try to give a clearer sense of the future–how the values and skills you developed as an English major will power your immediate future.