At the start of the year, my writing habits were poor. I had terrible punctuation,  horrendous grammar, and comma splices that would put a shiver down Mr Fitz’s spine. Throughout the course of the year, I was molded into the writer I am today through persistent work in Mr Fitz’s 8th grade English class. Mr Fitz has taught me the great power of visual rhetoric, and now, I don’t post a single entry without it. He has crammed his top ten comma rules into my brain with tedious microworx assignments, and now, I can recite them all. However, the most important thing that I learned in Fitz’s English class was not grammar, nor was it vocabulary. It was the flow of the words on the page. The similes and metaphors that enhance your piece and give it a little flare. The parallel structure that adds repetition for affect. It was rhythm and cadence that all great writing has, and through a year of hard work, I have strengthened this skill. 

I’ve made many memories with this class. Like the infamous unproductive podcast room with me and a group of boys that I think everyone in my class knows already. So much went on in that room, and it was by far my best and worst decision to remain in that room for almost every working class period. At times, the absolute chaos made me go a little insane, to the point where I couldn’t work. It was at times like those where I removed myself from that room; however, a majority of my belly laughs, and I mean hard belly laughs, came from that room. In a weird way, I think that the unproductive podcast room was sort of beneficial because, while we were reeking havoc a majority of the time, when we did decide to work, we worked. There were no fun and games during work time in that room. Whenever I think back at the podcast room shenanigans, a certain picture pops in my mind:  Everyone is productive and working per usual; however, in the unproductive podcast room, all hell breaks loose. Guitars are strummed vigorously, voices are raised to the maximum decibel, and in no way is there any classroom behavior. I’ll remember that room for a long time.

Thank you, Mr Fitz. I don’t say it enough. You gave me a new perspective on writing, rather than just looking at it as words on a page. It never felt like a class during English class with you, Mr Fitz. I always saw it as a wholesome bonding experience with learning as an added bonus. And I now see the importance of those nights where I stayed up restless completing your assignments. I didn’t see it then, but I do now. You have suited as up for the battle that comes next. The battle that is high school. 

Thanks, Mr Fitz. I really appreciate all that you have done.