Mr essay writing in english my best teacher B taught me the Aristotelian rhetorical method: logos (be right ethos (be decent pathos (be charming) and in that order. There were other tricks, too.He taught me that its easier to make an argument when you dont know anything about the subject. He taught me that its easier to make an argument that you disagree with. Its easier to write when the business of writing is a question of technique alone.I have always remembered these lessons. These practical matters would have been enough, but of course like every powerful teacher whether good or evil he imbued me with his example. Mr B was the first case in my life of a grown-up man who believed in literature.
My education in middle school was not significantly different from the education pioneer schoolchildren received 100 years earlier in one-room log essay writer life hacks cabin schools, both in its moral underpinning and in its content. We learned the components of sentences: subjects, verbs, objects, which always went in that order. Sentences could contain subjective clauses, objective clauses and adjectival clauses.By using or refraining from using these elements, we wrote simple sentences or compound sentences or compound-complex sentences. Simple sentences were always best. In grade seven, we worked only on individual sentences, in grade eight on single paragraphs, and then finally in grade nine on arguments. It was all mechanical.Each argument worked exactly the same way, beginning with the inverted triangle approach to the introductory paragraph, moving from the general to the particular and concluding with a thesis statement. (If you want an example, look at the opening paragraph of this essay.) The introductory paragraph was to be followed by supporting examples and concluding with a restatement of the thesis and a concluding paragraph moving from the particular back out to the general. There was only ever one correct way to write the clearest and most economical way. There was no room for expression; there was only writing correctly or incorrectly.
He distorted me into the person. I suppose a school in suburban Edmonton, Alberta, in western Canada in the 1980s, is as good a place as any to encounter a presiding spirit.The location could not have been less remarkable. The school itself, set down on an enormous field overlooking a freeway, looked like an abandoned strip mall with only one chegg homework help unsubscribe door. It was a private school in the sense that my parents paid for me to attend but it should by no means be confused with British private schools. We wore uniforms, but mainly because it was cheaper for our parents.It possessed the opposite of glamour. The school was a stark somewhat Calvinist throwback, with an educational philosophy that can be summed up as it was better the way it was. We did logarithms rather than the new math. We read from The Canadian Readers, collections of imperialist tidbits published in the 1920s, rather than the new nationalist, multicultural anthologies that emerged in the wake of the signing of the Canadian constitution in 1982.Even by the standards of this environment, Mr B was eccentrically antiquated. We would stand at our desks when any teacher entered the room, but Mr B insisted we stand at attention when he entered, and then at ease, before we sat. He wore tight white shirts, often sleeveless, and narrow ties, like a 1960s junior executive at the Rand Corporation. He insisted we all sit still or stand still when we were not engaged in productive effort.
Stephen Marche as a child, in his uniform. The relationship that changed me was the relationship that made me a common enough paradox. Between the ages of 11 and 14, I make my essay sound smart had an English teacher whom, for everybodys sake, I will call.During those crucial years, he dominated my intellectual development, and today he is the little man in my head. Mr B taught he how to read and how to write. He was the man who taught me how to do the things that have become myself.