December 11, 2019

Dear Professor Williams,

I will be the first to admit that my writing skills are not strong, especially before taking

ENG 111. Before this class, many of the essays and writing prompts had strict guidelines, and

for every teacher, there was a different set of rules. I would say that having such instructions

restricted me from my full potential because my writing style did not fit into the previous

teacher’s standards. I dreaded taking this class in fear that I would fail, but I knew at least my

writing skills will have strengthened. Prior to this class, my goal for an essay was how quickly I

could finish the assignment, prioritizing the guidelines than the intricacy.

I debated on choosing between The Stranger In That Photo Is Me and the interview essay

since they were my favorite essays I wrote for ENG 111. I decided on The Stranger In That

Photo Is Me, because I wanted to rewrite some of the parts that I felt were not well executed.

Like any other essay, the first step is to write out an outline. This outline required a

picture, so before I wrote the outline, I looked through my picture books to find a photo that

could be used. I knew I wanted to mention the decline of my mental health, but I did not know

what to write about the past. After choosing a photo, all the pieces started to come together, and I

could create an outline. In the draft, I focused on getting my thoughts across, so grammar and

correct punctuation was disregarded. The first draft is always peer-reviewed by one of our

classmates, and I have taken advantage of this process. Being able to read someone else’s

comments and what they thought of my essay was an eye-opener. The peer editor noticed things

I may have skimmed over, and after an edit, it would help strengthen the overall essay.
 Aside from small grammatical changes, for the revision of Money Is Happiness, my most

prominent change was rewriting my last paragraph. The ending paragraph for all of our essays is

a reflection, including this one. I decided to rewrite it because I felt that it wasn’t honest since I

am still struggling with mental health issues, and I have recently been re-diagnosed. Another

weak point in my essay was the repetitiveness, for example, the word “I” was used eighty times,

and many of my sentences were repeating the same thing.

After completing a thorough revision of my final draft, I feel confident about my last two

paragraphs. It is where I am the most honest and open up about myself now. I am able to reflect

on my past and see how it’s affected me. If there were more time, I would further revise and add

more to my introduction paragraph.

This class has taught me to be confident in my style. I have also learned that the professor

won’t hold your hand or dictate every small detail. If there were more time in the semester, I

would like to learn the other writing formats other than MLA, and when to use those other

formats. Though I was hesitant on taking ENG 111, I am glad I did because I have learned many

different types of genres and practiced in each.

Fannie Xia

Professor Williams

English 111

29 September 2019

Money Is Happiness

“When you learn, teach. When you get, give” (Angelou). Not everyone is fortunate to

have many opportunities, and it is essential for those who were given a step up to help others. I

have gone through experiences that have taught me for the better, but it was made possible by the

help of others. I feel it is right to give back for all the opportunities and lessons. My past

priorities have led to who I am today and my current priorities. I am lucky to have a life that has

been comfortable, at least money-wise.

As a kid, I believed that money brought happiness. In my point of view, more money

meant more toys, but most children do not fully understand the concept of money. Toys and the

television filled up most of my day, and much like other children, I was not worried too much

about anything. I stayed home with my grandmother, watched Chinese dramas, and even picked
up Mandarin from the shows. I have never thought about the absence of my parents because I

knew they were at work and grew up with them being consistently absent. As a result, there

lacked a relationship, and asking for things gave me stress. On the rare occasion, I would have to

repeat to myself the question mentally, take a deep breath, and then finally ask. Aside from the

anxiety-ridden process for asking for a toy, the only other things that came close to giving me

stress was pleasing everyone and protecting who I could. In public areas, I strayed behind the

group in the case of a shooter that shot from behind, I would get hit, and it would allow everyone

in front of me some time to run for safety.

School, on the other hand, grew my urge to please everyone since I lacked much social

interaction with children my age before I started school. Yet, I never became close to anyone in

elementary because each year, there would be a different group of classmates, making it difficult

to build a relationship. Thankfully I only went to a public school during my elementary years. It

did allow me to meet a wide variety of people, and it opened my mind to the different struggles

many of my peers were going through. Many talked about their parents’ divorce, skipping meals

because they could not afford it, psychological and mental disorders, and so much more.

Elementary also began my urge to help others.

Moreover, the transition from playing all day to going to a place where you had to learn

was something I did not fully adjust to until later years. To me, school had no significance other

than being forced to go. I continued to prioritize having fun and rarely paid attention in my

classes. School opened the door of overwhelming stress. When report cards would come at the

end of each quarter, the feeling of dread would overwhelm me. My heart would drop whenever I

received a B in a subject and panicked over what my parents would say. Despite the
consequences of a B, I refused to change my worth ethic because I did not notice the correlation

between the lack of studying and a bad grade.

Eventually, my lack of a work ethic would end in the third grade. My parents were

immigrants, and they gave up a lot to come to the United States in hopes of a good future for

their children. At the time, I did not understand why I was expected to have all A’s when my

peers' parents praised their kids for having a B average. I remember the anger my mother would

have if I did not do well on assignments or tests, being yelled at, and put in a tutoring program to

be a better student. The pain of listening to harsh words and going through a rigorous program

did develop my work ethic, and I learned to strive to be at the top. I would beat myself mentally,

and my own words were hurting me more than my parents’. Something clicked in my head

where my expectations were set high, and I had to reach it. I prioritized school higher, but

happiness was still one of my top priorities. Elementary and middle school brought me little joy

because I did not have many friends and had no interest in the work; the only thing pushing me

through was the future. I daydreamed and played pretend of me as an adult. Books and movies

portrayed adulthood to be fun and having so much freedom. I wanted to be living by myself with

pets, eating whatever I pleased, doing anything I wanted to do, and of course, being rich. I would

imagine myself to become rich, famous, and to live a life with ease.

I quickly realized that the dream was unrealistic. I was oblivious, and I had no clue about

the harsh reality of life. At the beginning of sixth grade, I lost someone who raised me. I watched

her slowly deteriorate, cripple down into a hospital bed, and suddenly at one in the morning,

there was a phone call. Waking up from the noise of my grandmother and mother running around

the house, I sat up halfway and said out loud, “is she dead?” Then I fell right back asleep. I
would have to wake up in five hours, go to a school that I was new to, had no friends, and push

through.

I never got the time to grieve properly in fear of falling behind, but I also did not know

how to grieve. Instead of fixing the pain, I focused on my peers’ struggles. I willingly immersed

myself in a dangerous path of other’s mental illnesses. After pushing my stress and worries

aside, their problems seemed more than mine. My feelings were driven away, and then high

school came. I kept pushing my struggles away; I had to help everyone else, and my problems

should not even be considered problems. I was also pushing myself to be at the top, setting my

expectations even higher. Then I crashed, the pain that I ignored had caught up to me. Problems

from even kindergarten were keeping me up at night, and I did not know what to do or who to

tell. Hiding it became harder, and it eventually started affecting me at school and became more

apparent. Afraid of burdening people, I pushed away help. For a while, I became very

materialistic, which worked for a little bit, but even after a week of receiving an item, I felt dull

again. Finally learned it only brings short term happiness, and I continued falling. Nothing major

happened for a solution until the school administrators had to step in.

Despite the start of the fall being three years ago, I am still struggling with the same

problems. I lost myself somewhere in the past and didn’t even know what brings me happiness. I

have become a shell of a person, afraid of my own thoughts. I spent the entire year last year

chasing the idea that I might have a physical medical issue because my symptoms mirrored

something more than just a panic disorder. This year I have finally accepted it’s solely mental,

and am in the process of finding a solution. All the counseling sessions, doctor appointments,

psychiatrist appointments, and medication are costly, so in a way, money can buy happiness.
Materialism, however, can not buy long term happiness. Once I am better, I plan on giving back

to my community and everyone who has helped me.