The ins and outs of in-class essays

There are many things I am afraid of, things like the cancellation

of my favorite TV shows, getting into college, and clowns. But

perhaps I am most afraid of the dreaded in-class essay.

The very phrase “in-class essay” sends chills down the spines of

most high school students. You break into a cold sweat and forget

everything you knew about whatever was assigned.

You must give up your beloved Microsoft Word and comfortable desk

chair for the torture of using college-ruled paper on your undersized

desk. You have to write without the luxury of a thesaurus, a snack in

between paragraphs and, of course, the lack of distractions to help

you procrastinate as long as you possibly can. But above all you have

to write an essay sans spell-check.

I don’t know if I had an epiphany in class or was just putting off

writing my essay, but once you think about it, life is a lot like

in-class essays. You are never prepared even when you think you are.

Everyone thinks getting started is the hardest part, but you

quickly realize it is all pretty hard. When we start our essays, we

think we have a lot of time, but before you know it the bell rings

and it is over. Of course, in-class essays are best spent with

friends, even if it is just exchanging sarcastic comments or funny

looks with each other. And, like life, in-class essays introduce you

to a broad array of different people.

There is the group of students who actually look like they enjoy

what they’re doing. These are the same people who think math is

“exciting” and believe the SATs have nothing to do with your

test-taking ability, it’s all about your intelligence.

More power to them. I wish I could glide through essays with their

figure-skating ease.

The manic writers are the kids who, the minute the prompt is given

out, make a mad dash for their pencil and write at a fever-pitched

pace. They barely have time to think, let alone breath; they are what

I like to call ... call ... exhausting. Just thinking about them

gives me a hand cramp and the need for a nap.

Another very particular group are the ones who need complete

silence. Don’t get me wrong, a quiet environment during tests is a

must, but these pesky pupils get mad and go into a shhhhhhuuushhing

fit when someone just whispers a question to the teacher.

Imagine the reaction I got when I choked on my gum and made quite

a commotion. While I was turning blue, the “silent” writers were

glaring at me and putting their index fingers to their lips. Thank

goodness for the girl next to me, who smacked my back. If it weren’t

for her, I’d have been a goner, but at least I would have been quiet.

Other types are the boy who writes extremely huge, to fill as many

pages up as possible, and the girl who writes on the floor because it

is more comfortable.

But perhaps the best way to approach an in-class essay is, of

course, my way. Well, actually, it is not “my” way. It isn’t called

the Tierney Technique, but my friends and I have mastered it.

When the teacher says, “in-class essay,” we groan as a group and

try to get out of it, yelling out excuses right and left: “I’m sick,”

“How about tomorrow?” or (my favorite) “It’s against my religion.”

These attempts haven’t worked yet, but you never know. When the

prompt is passed out, we roll our eyes and give looks of pure

exasperation.

After the essay, we reminisce about the questions asked, our

thesis and supporting points, saying how poorly we did, but all

secretly knowing our friends did great and we didn’t do half bad

ourselves. We might have a sore hand and a few paper cuts, but hey,

that’s life.

* TIERNEY SMITH is a junior at Costa Mesa High School, where she

is co-editor-in-chief of the Hitching Post.