Expert answer:What have you learned during the term?, reflective
Answer & Explanation:Here is a description of what I need. I will provide the two
essays that I wrote so you can use that in this paper along with two journals
that I wrote and two discussion questions. They need to be incorporated into
this paper, not necessarily word per word but an example. It only needs to be
2-3 pages.
The final essay should reflect on your thought process,
assess your experience, and provide evidence from your own writing and unique
point of view on composing to clearly communicate to your audience what you
have learned during the term.
In this essay, you need to cite examples from your own work
to illustrate points you make. Provide an in-text reference for each example to
identify the essay draft, journal, or possibly even a discussion post that you
mention. Acknowledge feedback from your instructor and peers with in-text
references as well.
Specifically the following critical
elements must be addressed:
1. Reread the first and final drafts of your essays and your
journals; then, reflect on the writing process and how it has impacted your own
writing and thought processes this term. Form your own conclusions about how
the writing process impacts student writing in general.
2. Explain the writing process by identifying each component
and its direct impact in improving student writing.
3. Analyze the writing process’s value and how it improves student
writing.
4. Ensure that the essay contains a clear point of view and
uses a voice and perspective that is required in a formal final essay.
5. Cite specific examples from your own works (between your
narrative essay draft and final narrative essay draft, or your persuasive essay
draft and final persuasive essay draft, or both essays) to support the main
points of your reflection.
6. Ensure that the essay is organized in a way that creates
a seamless flow between different sections.
7. Ensure that there are no errors related to grammar,
spelling, citations, or syntax.
8. What skills grew
with the exercises? What did you discover about the writing process as you
worked on the exercises?
9. What
useful feedback did the instructor offer during this process? How did you apply
it to improve the essay(s) or build skills with writing, or both?
Here is a way you can organize it if this helps. •Introduction – Brief overview
of where you started in terms of writing skills, what you struggled with and
what you have learned.
•Body Section 1 – Discuss things
you struggled with, including specific assignments and examples (quotes) from
those assignments. You could include grades and any specific feedback (quotes)
you received. This section can be 1-3 paragraphs.
•Body Section 2 – Discuss the
specific things you have learned from the e-learning materials, including a
description of the writing process. Be sure to give specific examples (quotes)
from several Modules. This section can be 1-3 paragraphs.
•Body Section 3 – Discuss what
you think you did well with in the course, and/or discuss the most important
lesson you have learned about yourself as a writer. This section can be
1-3 paragraphs.
•Conclusion – How will you use
what you have learned, and what do you still need to work on?journals.docxnarrative_draft_and_finished.docxnarrative_draft_and_finished.docx
journals.docx
narrative_draft_and_finished.docx
narrative_draft_and_finished.docx
Unformatted Attachment Preview
Here are my Journals.
As a child, I could remember writing in my Lisa Frank spiral notebook and feeling
a sense of inspiration and comfort. I remember my head full of ideas, so much I
could not write fast enough. I found writing was a way to let out my emotions and
was therapeutic. In elementary school, my favorite time was our writing time
where the classroom would remain quiet, and we would write about our day.
Journaling was done on a daily basis, and at the end of the year we were able to
take our journals home. The best part of this process was the ability to read back on
our days.
As an adult, my greatest challenge of the writing process is if my grammar is
correct and if I make sense. I feel challenged when I have to write about a topic I
have no interest, or there is not much to write about a particular subject. One of my
greatest challenges is finding out whether I grab the reader’s attention, and if I
keep it. I keep two journals, a faux Boch Ni and a regular journal where I write
daily. I feel confident in my journaling, however, Academically, I feel nervous and
at times feel anxiety because of my fear not doing well. I struggle with finding the
right vocabulary, grammar, and topics.
The tools I need to be a better writing is to practice. The more I write, the better
my writing will get. I can also seek more help and support from my peers and get
my work edited. One great option would be to join a writing group; it is an
excellent way to meet other writers and gain feedback on my writing. One great
tool that many writers have used is to write in different forms to see what best suits
you. I admire constructive criticism.
Journal 2
The feedback I received was good. Talking about personal life is much easier than
talking about anything else for me. I think the feedback was helpful in knowing
that most of us wrote about our personal things however it is good to write about
other things. It seems like most of us take the easy way out because we can express
ourselves much more when writing about something we love and know very well.
At first I was going to speak about failures in school but I felt I would not have
enough to write about that I quickly changed it to something much more personal. I
felt I did take the easy way out because I am writing about something much more
passionate and real to me. I love reality.
Here is the Narrative Essay Draft
Failing my family was the hardest thing to endure; the worst part is failing yourself. In Hispanic
cultures many of us dream of graduating high school then off to college to them pursue a career and take
care of our families. Unfortunately many of us do not have the ability to do so. In my family my father
never went past the 3rd grade and my mother never got to graduate high school due to being married and
having me. Since I could remember it was instilled in my brain that getting my education was the only
way to make it in this world. My mother and father were examples of the stereotype of a working class
Latino family, enduring hardships and struggles.
Being the eldest of 7 girls has been very difficult because I did not always lead by example, nor
did I make good decisions my whole life. My sisters and I had a strong bond that nobody could break. I
was their mother, teacher, cook, and disciplinarian while my parents worked to provide for our large
family. One can imagine how hard it is to do well in school with so many responsibilities. By the time I
completed all of my housework and put my siblings to sleep my day had gone by and all I wanted to do
was sleep. At the age of 13 I was a high school freshman and ready to conquer the world. My education
was not something I was focused on. My focus was becoming one of the popular kids who would hang
out by the cafeteria with the awesome high school jackets.
As time went on I became one of those popular kids without really understanding the role. I was
always a very mature young lady with morals, and I knew there would be a consequence for every action.
It started by skipping classes to skipping full days of school to go to afternoon parties where there was
sex, drugs, and alcohol. While my parents went off to work in the mornings I would hide at my friends
house until I knew they were gone and go back home and do things that I was not proud of. I would sit
back and think of what my parents would say and quickly have many regrets.
Everything took a turn for the worst, I skipped school to be with my boyfriend who was 18 at the
time and I was only 13, he took me up to his apartment and raped me. It was one of the most devastating
moments of my life because where his bed was positioned I could look out the window and see my
parents leaving our home. After this despicable act I quickly ran home and took a shower with the feeling
that my life was over. Virginity was something vital in my culture and it should be saved for marriage. I
didn’t tell anyone about what happened but somehow everyone knew, the rumor was it was concentual
and that is what I agreed with. I didn’t want to battle this against what I felt was the whole world.
A week had passed and a friend wrote me a note stating that my abuser wanted to “do it again”. I
put this note in my bag and went home. I went home and my mother was cooking dinner and as I was
checking the mail she called me by my actual name “Margarita!” she screamed. I quickly ran upstairs to
see what was wrong and she was holding the letter in her hand with tears running down her eyes. I just
said sorry and ran outside and just kept running until I could not run anymore. I finally came back home
and my stepfather was home, both were crying and asked me to sit. I thought I was going to get beat
because that is something common that happened in my family. My stepfather said “Come sit, lets talk”. I
sat and my mother said “Why didn’t you come talk to me?” all I could do is just cry and say I was sorry.
“What happened to all of our talks? You dreamt of getting married in a white dress like I did. What
happened? Did he force you?” cried my mother. I just froze and did not know what to say, I was lost in
words and nodded my head no. I feared that if I told the police I would be looked at as if it was all my
fault and at the time that is what I felt. My stepfather sat me on his lap and said “ You are still my little
girl.” I then went upstairs and cried myself to sleep.
A few months had passed and my abuser went back to his home country and we had moved to a
different city to see if things can change a bit. I was heaving into drugs and drinking, I wanted to numb
the pain. Sadly my parents knew what was going on and didn’t know how to handle the situation. My
parents tried counseling, group sessions, and even the pastor from church couldn’t do anything. My
grades were failing, I had lost all of my friends due to several incidents. I was in numerous physical fights
and this was affecting my family. My parents saw me as a disappointment. My mother out of anger and
frustration would call me names and said I was worth nothing. This took a toll on my sisters as well and I
felt like a failure to them and to myself. This lasted about 2 years, my mother had it and kicked me out of
the house. I had no education, no job, and nowhere to go so I went to live with my grandmother.
My grandmother was a religious woman who believed in a higher power and felt that through
prayer anything is possible. She cared for me and kept me on track. Another year had passed I was back
with my mother and sisters. At the age of 16 my mother put me in an Adult High School because she felt
High School was too much for me, she felt if I was around more mature people I would prosper. My
mother was right, I graduated high school with honors and I was so proud of what I had become. Today I
am proud to say that I am a Rape survivor who is happily married and pursuing my Bachelors in
Psychology and soon to be pursuing my Masters in Social Work. This goes to show we all fall down and
hit rock bottom, we must think the only way to get out is to go back up. I hope with my career to help
others who have gone through similar situations and be an example to women and men.
Finished copy.
Failing my family was the hardest thing to endure; the worst part was failing myself. In Hispanic
cultures, many of us dream of graduating high school then off to college to them pursue a career and take
care of our families. Unfortunately, many of us do not have the ability to do so. In my family, my father
never went past the 3rd grade and my mother never got to graduate high school due to being married and
having me. Since I could remember it was instilled in my brain that getting my education was the only
way to make it in this world. My mother and father were examples of the stereotype of a working class
Latino family, enduring hardships, and struggles.
Being the eldest of 7 girls has been tough because I did not always lead by example, nor did I
make right decisions my whole life. My sisters and I had a strong bond that nobody could break. I was
their mother, teacher, cook, and disciplinarian while my parents worked to provide for our large family.
One can imagine how hard it is to do well in school with so many responsibilities. By the time, I
completed all of my housework and put my siblings to sleep my day had gone by, and all I wanted to do
was sleep. At the age of 13, I was a high school freshman and ready to conquer the world. My education
was not something I was focused on. My focus was becoming one of the popular kids who would hang
out in the cafeteria with the impressive high school jackets.
As time went on I became one of those popular kids without really understanding the role. I was
always a very mature young lady brought up with morals and values. I was taught from an early age that
there would be a consequence of every action. As far as my home life and taking care of my siblings,
cooking, and cleaning was something that was forced on me. At one point, I felt like a mother and a maid,
so I rebelled. It started by skipping classes to skipping full days of school to go to afternoon parties where
there was sex, drugs, and alcohol. While my parents went off to work in the morning, I would hide at my
friends house until I knew they were gone and go back home and do strip teases for the boys and drink
until it was time for my siblings to get home. I would sit back and think of what my parents would say
and quickly have many regrets.
Everything took a turn for the worst, I skipped school to be with my boyfriend who was 18 at the
time, and I was only 13, he took me up to his apartment and raped me. It was one of the most devastating
moments of my life because where his bed was positioned, I could look out the window and see my
parents leaving our home. After this despicable act, I quickly ran home and took a shower with the feeling
that my life was over. Virginity was something vital in my culture, and it should be saved for marriage. I
didn’t tell anyone about what happened, but somehow everyone knew, the rumor was it was consensual,
and that is what I agreed with. I didn’t want to battle this against what I felt was the whole world.
A week had passed, and a friend wrote me a note stating that my abuser wanted to “do it again.” I
put this note in my bag and went home. I went home, and my mother was cooking dinner and as I was
checking the mail she called me by my actual name “Margarita!” she screamed. I quickly ran upstairs to
see what was wrong, and she was holding the letter in her hand with tears streaming down her eyes. I just
said sorry and ran outside and just kept running until I could not run anymore. I finally came back home,
and my stepfather was home, both were crying and asked me to sit. I thought I was going to get beat
because that is something common that happened in my family. My stepfather said
“Sit, let us talk.”
I sat, and my mother said
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” all I could do is just cry and say I was sorry.
“What happened to all of our talks? You dreamt of getting married in a white dress like I did.
What happened? Did he force you?” cried my mother.
I just froze and did not know what to say, I was lost in words and nodded my head no. I feared
that if I told the police, I would be looked at as if it was all my fault and at the time that is what I felt.
My stepfather sat me on his lap and said, “ You are still my little girl.”
I then went upstairs and cried myself to sleep.
A few months had passed, and my abuser went back to his home country, and we had moved to a
different city to see if things can change a bit. I was heavily into drugs and drinking; I wanted to numb the
pain. Sadly my parents knew what was going on and didn’t know how to handle the situation. My parents
tried counseling, group sessions, and even the pastor from the church couldn’t do anything. My grades
were failing, I had lost all of my friends due to several incidents. I was in numerous physical fights, and
this was affecting my family. My parents saw me as a disappointment. My mother out of anger and
frustration would call me names and said I was worth nothing. This took a toll on my sisters as well, and I
felt like a failure to them and myself. This lasted about two years, my mother had it and kicked me out of
the house. I had no education, no job, and nowhere to go so I went to live with my grandmother.
My grandmother was a religious woman who believed in a higher power and felt that through
prayer anything is possible. She cared for me and kept me on track. Another year had passed I was back
with my mother and sisters. At the age of 16 my mother put me in an Adult High School because she felt
High School was too much for me, she felt if I was around more mature people I would prosper. My
mother was right, I graduated high school with honors, and I was so proud of what I had become. Today I
am proud to say that I am a Rape survivor who is happily married and pursuing my Bachelors in
Psychology and soon to be pursuing my Masters in Social Work. This goes to show we all fall and hit
rock bottom; we must think the only way to get out is to go back up. I hope with my career to help others
who have gone through similar situations and were an example to women and men.
Here is the Narrative Essay Draft – Here I Have
highlighted what my instructor wanted me to change and
in the finished copy I will highlight what I changed, so you
can use that in the paper as feedback I received.
So the way you can utilize this is by stating in the paper
that I made the necessary changes such as grammar, not
speaking in second person, and provide more details.
Failing my family was the hardest thing to endure; the worst part is failing yourself. In Hispanic
cultures many of us dream of graduating high school then off to college to them pursue a career and take
care of our families. Unfortunately many of us do not have the ability to do so. In my family my father
never went past the 3rd grade and my mother never got to graduate high school due to being married and
having me. Since I could remember it was instilled in my brain that getting my education was the only
way to make it in this world. My mother and father were examples of the stereotype of a working class
Latino family, enduring hardships and struggles.
Being the eldest of 7 girls has been very difficult because I did not always lead by example, nor
did I make good decisions my whole life. My sisters and I had a strong bond that nobody could break. I
was their mother, teacher, cook, and disciplinarian while my parents worked to provide for our large
family. One can imagine how hard it is to do well in school with so many responsibilities. By the time I
completed all of my housework and put my siblings to sleep my day had gone by and all I wanted to do
was sleep. At the age of 13 I was a high school freshman and ready to conquer the world. My education
was not something I was focused on. My focus was becoming one of the popular kids who would hang
out by the cafeteria with the awesome high school jackets.
As time went on I became one of those popular kids without really understanding the role. I was
always a very mature young lady with morals, and I knew there would be a consequence for every action.
It started by skipping classes to skipping full days of school to go to afternoon parties where there was
sex, drugs, and alcohol. While my parents went off to work in the mornings I would hide at my friends
house until I knew they were gone and go back home and do things that I was not proud of. I would sit
back and think of what my parents would say and quickly have many regrets.
Everything took a turn for the worst, I skipped school to be with my boyfriend who was 18 at the
time and I was only 13, he took me up to his apartment and raped me. It was one of the most devastating
moments of my life because where his bed was positioned I could look out the window and see my
parents leaving our home. After this despicable act I quickly ran home and took a shower with the feeling
that my life was over. Virginity was something vital in my culture and it should be saved for marriage. I
didn’t tell anyone about what happened but somehow everyone knew, the rumor was it was concentual
and that is what I agreed with. I didn’t want to battle this against what I felt was the whole world.
A week had passed and a friend wrote me a note stating that my abuser wanted to “do it again”. I
put this note in my bag and went home. I went home and my mother was cooking dinner and as I was
checking the mail she called me by my actual name “Margarita!” she screamed. I quickly ran upstairs to
see what was wrong and she was holding the letter in her hand with tears running down her eyes. I just
said sorry and ran outside and just kept running until I could not run anymore. I finally came back home
and my stepfather was home, both were crying and asked me to sit. I thought I was going to get beat
because that is something common that happened in my family. My stepfather said “Come sit, lets talk”. I
sat and my mother said “Why didn’t you come talk to me?” all I could do is just cry and say I was sorry.
“What happened to all of our talks? You dreamt of getting married in a white dress like I did. What
happened? Did he force you?” cried my mother. I just froze and did not know what to say, I was lost in
words and nodded my head no. I feared that if I told the police I would be looked at as if it was all my
fault and at the time that is what I felt. My stepfather sat me on his lap and said “ You are still my little
girl.” I then went upstairs and cried myself to sleep.
A few months had passed and my abuser went back to his home country and we had moved to a
different city to see if things can change a bit. I was heaving into drugs and drinking, I wanted to numb
the pain. Sadly my parents knew what was going on and didn’t know how to handle the situation. My
parents tried counseling, group sessions, and even the pastor from church couldn’t do anything. My
grades were failing, I had lost all of my friends due to several incidents. I was in numerous physical fights
and this was affecting my family. My parents saw me as a disappointment. My mother out of anger and
frustration would call me names and said I was worth nothing. This took a toll on my sisters as well and I
felt like a failure to them and to myself. This lasted about 2 years, my mother had it and kicked me out of
the house. I had no education, no job, and nowhere to go so I went to live with my grandmother.
My grandmother was a religious woman who believed in a higher power and felt that through
prayer anything is possible. She cared for me and kept me on track. Another year had passed I was back
with my mother and sisters. At the age of 16 my mother put me in an Adul …
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