Seventh grade felt like a vast ocean of tides and waves, and one the most meaningful ripples was my improvement in English.
I was already good at English before that year—I scored 93 marks in sixth grade, the highest in my class.
But in seventh grade, I felt a strange kind of passion to improve—particularly in creative writing. One day, my teacher assigned us to write about the precious days of our lives, and present it to the class.
I wrote my piece and felt satisfied, but when I listened to the impressive work of my classmates, I began to feel behind everyone else. I had never realized that my creative writing was a bit too childish for my grade, but this assignment made me notice it.
From that day, I was committed.
Every day after school, I practiced writing. I began to read novels more actively and focusing on the writers' styles. I tried to find my own unique rhythm. At the start, I felt discouraged, but my consistency eventually led to some improvement. Even then, I continued.
And that was when I felt as if I had gone from the bottom of the ground to the the top of the sky. But I will never forget how difficult the path was.
And aside form creative writing, I worked on English passionately this time—focusing on it as much as I worked for math.
And then after the midterm exam, I sat expectantly as the teacher was about to announce the highest score.
This is honestly a little embarrassing to admit, but I actually expected myself the score the highest.
But the teacher named someone else, and I felt.... a bit numb. I can't really describe the feeling.
And then she announced the top three—and I wasn't even one of them. I had scored 94, which was an improvement from last year.
But it just didn't land the same way.
But later, I reflected and realized that my love for the subject and my dedication to improve had not changed at all.
That was when I first decided that I would persue my passion and write a novel one day.
I worked just as hard as before this term, when the time for the final exam arrived.
I sat in the exam room, feeling calm but a bit uncertain as I began to write.
But the exam was not the simple garden I expected it to be.
I was a whole forest.
I still don't know what score I got, but I'll be satisfied no matter what.
Because marks do not measure potential or our love for a subject. 33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtnaM5icw6J
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