Writing Homework One Student Five
Sean N. Writing Class
1. It is his bad attitude which is his biggest problem. Regardless, you cannot judge a book by its cover.
2. Davey and I went to the football game that day, and we did not see anything there. Instead, a cop yelled at us, “Get lost before you are arrested by me!” Davey was frightened but we were not arrested.
3. Newt Gringrich referred to the media in the singular form.
- There's a bigger mistake than that: his pronoun "they" lacks a proper antecedent. Minus 1 (Also, Newt's last name is "Gingrich", not "Gringrich").
4. A good student it one who can write well and quickly.
- "is", not "it". Also, your rewrite changed the meaning. Minus 2.
5. By running inside my sweater remained mostly dry.
- No, your sweater can't run. Minus 1.
6. These three things needed to be completed Wednesday morning: call my friend, finish this homework, and jog one mile.
- OK. Total score on this editing portion: 56/60.
A Nagging Fear
There is a tale, a myth from ancient Greece, about a goddess and her love. This goddess, Eos, was the deity of dawn and one day, when about her heavenly duties, she spied a handsome young prince. Eos quickly fell in love with this prince and him with her. However, one thing made their union impossible; he would someday die but she would live forever. So Eos beseeched Zeus, king of the gods, to grant her prince immortality. Eos’ wish was granted and the prince was made immortal. [could break to a new paragraph here] But with his immortality came a price, as the years passed by he still grew old. His back bent, his hair greyed, his knees shook and his voice withered. The poor prince was cursed to live forever. He could not die, he could not rest. As the decades turned to centuries the prince slowly shrunk into a little cricket, a small shadow of what he once was. You can hear the cricket prince still chirp his love to Eos when dawn breaks.
This is my fear, not of death but of dying, of growing old. And how does this fear show itself? It rears its head every time I go to a nursing home and I am reminded of what must come. The grey and ancient ones who sit on park benches and throw seeds at squirrels and unwrap crinkly hard candy wrappers in movie theatres [British spelling here, not correct in America - use "theaters"]. I am afraid of old people ,[need a space here]I’m genuinely terrified, when I see them coming towards me my eyebrows climb my forehead, my hair stands on end, and my palms sweat. Their grip when they hold your hand is so strong, they hold on as if they’re getting sucked down into the abyss and your grasp is the only thing keeping them here. Oh! how I rue when I must help these grim reminders with their goings about.
Is it wrong to feel this way, to avoid them like the plague? I don’t think so, it would be wrong to tell them how I feel about their aged selves. But I have yet to scream “let go of me you morbid bat from hell, you’re not taking me to River Styx with you!” at some un-suspecting ["unsuspecting" - no hyphen] granny.
I still help them ["granny" is a singular antecedent] when they are in need and I am available. I just won’t go out of my way to help old people; whereas I would to help another category of needy individuals. If you think I should try to volunteer with the elderly more to confront my fear. You’re wrong. Would you tell someone who is afraid of heights to join a mountain rescue squad? Would you tell someone who is afraid of blood to become a surgeon? So why should poor frightened Sean have to help out the Witches of Endor?
- Substance: excellent, a 9.8/10. Some errors here and there result in a score of 9.5 on technical merit. Well done!--Andy Schlafly 21:03, 7 February 2012 (EST)