Words, words, words
I have always has a passion for teaching. From the time I was a kid, I would fight to be the teacher when I played school with my friends. I wanted to be the one to write on the chalkboard and give my friends assignments. My love for English, too, has been unwavering: I’m still proud to say I hold the record for longest summer reading list at my middle school – one hundred and twenty-one books. It’s something that defines me, something that makes me who I am: the words, the books, the poems. The best teachers I’ve ever had were English teachers. They didn’t just stand up in front of us and lecture. They inspired us; they were students too.
Last April I went to Ireland as an extension of my sophomore year Irish Literature class. In visiting the W. B. Yeats exhibit at Ireland’s National Library, I was profoundly moved by the simplicity of the objects on display: his eyeglasses, a lock of hair, a portrait of him sketched by a friend.
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