The Bonnell Hurdle

I didn't always like writing. When I was in Jr. High, I felt the same about writing as did every other kid; it was just something that came along with school. Sure, I wrote stories when I was a little kid, but those died out as I got older. When I was in school at that age, I wrote in the same manner as I did any other homework assignment; uncaringly. This made for quite the shock when I reached high school and I ran into the entity known only as "Mr. Bonnell."

Mr. Bonnell was his own man. He wore a bow tie, rode a cruiser bike to school, rang a bell to signify the start of class, and addressed everyone by Mr. and Miss. He was, to put it lightly, old fashioned. During the summer going into my Freshman year of High School, Mr. Bonnell required all incoming students to write a paper on a book of their choice from a small list. I chose "The Hobbit" because I had already read it, and thus, didn't have to do any extra work. My paper was what I had assumed a paper was supposed to be; grammatically correct in most ways. I didn't really care about what the content was, because my 8th grade teacher cared only about proper grammar. It didn't matter to me that the entirety of my paper was just a rough summary of the book in two pages, as I thought I had done a fine job. Mr. Bonnell politely disagreed.

After I read my paper to him in private as all students did, he explained to me that my paper wasn't quite up to standards. To sum up; I got a D-. It was quite the shocker as my first grade of my High School career wasn't one to write home about, so clearly I had work to do. I spent the rest of the first semester trying to figure out what to do, and mostly failing, though occasionally I gained slight progress. Up until the last paper of the quarter the highest grade I had received on a paper was a C-. The last paper of the semester was on George Orwell's classic, 1984. I had to try something new. I told my Mom (God bless her for putting up with all my writing nonsense) that I would go a different route. I was going to throw style out the window completely and be totally structured with my paper. My essay would consist of quotes and explanation. I would have a short introduction, a short conclusion, and one sentence at the bookends of each paragraph. Other than that, I would have nothing but quotes and explanation to prove my point. "Winston did this" and it meant that. It was bold, but I had no option left other than the hail mary. When I had finished reading that essay to Mr. Bonnell, he sat there staring at it blankly. He carefully pondered how to break the news to me. I knew I had done something wrong.

"This is exactly what I've been looking for, Mr. Patrick."

The clouds parted. Light shined down through the atrium and onto me, straight from the heavens. The wisdom and mysteries of the stars were being revealed to me as all happiness flowed through me. Mr. Bonnell was finally pleased with my work. He went on to tell me...I don't know. I don't even remember the particularities of that conversation beyond "you did it." All I knew was that I had somehow figured out how to write a paper, and I did it by breaking it down to its most basic elements, shrugging, and hoping I got there. That day was a turning point for me; I would strive to be as terse as possible in my academic writing, and it hasn't failed me since. Sure, I don't follow that model in blog-format ramblings, but that's why nobody reads this blog but me, and those who love me an inexplicable amount.