I Loath Writing

I want to use that phrase in an upcoming post. I disdain placing myself in these threads other than providing context, but to use those words, more context is required. This is especially true because I intend to provide greater context for the last post.

This loathing starts early in my first grade career when I was kicked out of school.¹Queen of Peace School, North Arlington, NJ. I had jumped out of the open window of the second story classroom, ran away, and hid on the second story porch of a derelict house adjacent to the apartment were we lived. According to family legend, I hit a nun with a yardstick in retribution for using that same yardstick to reprimand a cute, blond girl who lived across the street.²Tactically a bad move, since I never saw Barbara again.  Of that day’s experiences, I only remember hiding on the porch and watching police cars drive by, resolved to stay there forever.³Human biology tends to intervene in such plans. :- ) The next day my mother and I sat in the office of Mother Superior for an interview. I remember nothing of that meeting, other than it was the last time I ever entered the school.

Soon after at the same boarding school⁴Crow Hill School in Rhinebeck, NY, my older brother attended. My teacher was a wonderful human being who spoke English as a second language. I don’t remember much conversation or even teaching during those three years. I remember fondly having a close relationship and brushing her beautiful, waist length, black hair during class. You probably get the picture.

By the time I arrived at Nyack Boy’s School⁵A bording school in Nyack, NY for fifth grade, I was already three years behind my classmates. I couldn’t even read at a second grade level. I couldn’t spell even the simplest of words more than four letters long. They brought in a private tutor to help me with reading. It didn’t take. My ADHD⁶I don’t know if I was ever so diagnosed, but they did attempt to medicate me. That also didn’t take. must have made me a bit unmanageable, as I spent almost all of my free time on Saturdays in detention. During detention, I was given a ream of paper and wrote the alphabet repeatedly on one page in lower case, then on another page in upper case, then lower and then upper case script. My dexterity and handwriting were excellent. My fondness for writing prose was a bit lacking.

As you might imagine, junior high and high school didn’t improve things very much. I still couldn’t spell. I couldn’t even look up words in a dictionary. While I don’t remember my actual ACT/SAT scores, the language part was so impressive⁷Smirk. Eyes rolling. that my high school counselor recommended and sent me on field trips to push me in the direction of being a phlebotomist, or a medical lab tech. The scores were so bad that I was unable to qualify for any liberal arts college at the University of Minnesota. Oddly, the science and engineering college took those scores, and then added in the science and math scores a second time. This pushed me slightly over the minimum threshold for that school.

Nevertheless, I was ill prepared for college. I attended per my mother’s encouragement in order to continue to qualify for social security payments.⁸My father died when I was very young, which initiated the payments. In my first two years, I flunked out of every class but one.⁹ I seem to have accidentally passed art history by simply showing up to class. I left school. Subsequently, I was a a short order cook, a baker’s assistant, a warehouse worker, etc. I joined the LDS church. College was encouraged. That was something new.

In preparation for a mission, I took the “Language Aptitude Test.” Miraculously, they lost the results. So, I had to take it again. Naturally, I scored extremely well given that second-attempt advantage. I was called to Taiwan. Learning Mandarin was the first time I ever applied myself to anything. I quite literally had to learn the basics of the language three times before I could be understood.

Returning home, I went to the university to start anew. Once they pulled my transcript, they wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Fortunately, a member of the stake presidency was a department chair and made a deal that got me in if I completed all classes with at least a B. But, continuing my excellent history with my native language, I had to drop out early from Freshman English many more times before finally meeting that requirement. It wasn’t until my senior year¹⁰Specifically my 5th year as I was studying at a graduate school level in both Electrical Engineering and Mandarin Chinese. that I finally checked off that requirement.

A good engineer (true also for a scientist) assiduously keeps lab notes¹¹You may correctly assume that I never kept notes. Even when writing code, the required notations and explanations were grossly inadequate.. A good LDS member keeps a journal. I tried a bit on my mission, but when I later read those entries and the few letters home¹²I was counseled by my mission president for failure to write to my mother for long periods of time. I wonder why that was., it further discouraged me from continuing to do so.

There is much more along this same line I could share, but that would require that I write about it. So, while still not adequate, this will have to be enough.

Bottom line: I loath writing. Each word is like birthing a baby.¹³Apologies to all mothers for this rather rash hyberbole. I equally loath reading anything that I write. This causes me to edit, and repeat the cycle. Wash, rinse, repeat. Never good enough.¹⁴Even this post has been revised multiple times. Set your logic and reason aside; this is an emotional hatred at the most primal level; it breaks Maslow’s “Hierarchy of Needs.” Self flagellation is preferred. I loath writing.

Footnotes:

• 1
  Queen of Peace School, North Arlington, NJ.
• 2
  Tactically a bad move, since I never saw Barbara again.
• 3
  Human biology tends to intervene in such plans. :- )
• 4
  Crow Hill School in Rhinebeck, NY
• 5
  A bording school in Nyack, NY
• 6
  I don’t know if I was ever so diagnosed, but they did attempt to medicate me. That also didn’t take.
• 7
  Smirk. Eyes rolling.
• 8
  My father died when I was very young, which initiated the payments.
• 9
  I seem to have accidentally passed art history by simply showing up to class.
• 10
  Specifically my 5th year as I was studying at a graduate school level in both Electrical Engineering and Mandarin Chinese.
• 11
  You may correctly assume that I never kept notes. Even when writing code, the required notations and explanations were grossly inadequate.
• 12
  I was counseled by my mission president for failure to write to my mother for long periods of time. I wonder why that was.
• 13
  Apologies to all mothers for this rather rash hyberbole.
• 14
  Even this post has been revised multiple times.