My First English Assignment

I have an English professor, who has a Master's degree in English and apparently cannot spell or figure out the function of the auto correct feature in Word. This is the man who is going to be grading my papers for the next semester. Thank God I only have one semester with him because I cannot handle disorganized nonsense when it comes to my online classes. I just don't have the patience for anything other than what is expected of ME. Just tell me what you want to see and what you want us to read and I will get it done, is that too much to ask? Whew...I'm done ranting now...so sorry!

My first assignment was a "getting to know you" type assignment. We had to pick a quote from a list that he had already given us and decide what it meant to Shakespeare and what it meant to us and our lives. So here it is. I tried to be funny, but that didn't work out as well as I had though because it seemed like I was just bitching about things again. I tried to be sad or moving and that didn't work either, so finally I just wrote about my kids. Funny how my kids are always my default to go to when I have nothing else I can do.

Here it is, exactly as it appears in MLA format, which I have NEVER learned since I learned in APA format for most of my college courses. With the exception of removing my professors name (to protect his privacy and anonymity) nothing else has been changed. Enjoy...or don't...whatever!

Nichole Hill

ENGL 111 WC3

(Bad speller name goes here)

22 August 2011

Getting to Know You: ENG 111, 114 Writing Diagnostic

I chose, "love looks not with the eyes but with the mind” as the quote I would write my interpretations about. I am pretty sure that Shakespeare was trying to explain the absurdity of love and why, when someone is being treated horribly or someone does an ugly and despicable thing, that there seems to always be someone else who still loves that person. That brief explanation is not why I chose the quote. It is the perfect explanation as to why I continue to love my children so unconditionally.

I have three daughters, all under the age of eight, who I think are possessed by some sort of hyperactive entity that refuses to let them sit quietly and be the little angels I used to have. While they can be annoying, loud, hyper, and just plain evil to each other and others, I still love them. It will never matter what sort of trouble they may get in or how much grey hair they force onto my head, I will always love them.

 I loved them when they lost my diamond earrings that their father gave me when he returned home safely from Iraq for the second time. I loved them when they broke my handmade porcelain doll my grandmother gave to me before she died. I loved them when they spilled so much paint on my brand new carpets that they had to be replaced, again. I loved them when they told on me to my sister-in-law about hating her meatloaf.  I especially love them now as they tell me goodnight and give me sweet kisses and toddle off to bed. I love my kids, all of them, no matter what evil may reside in their hearts or minds or bodies, they are still MY kids and I love them. When they finally put me in a nursing home I hope it was enough love for them to choose an expensive resort instead!