The cold tingles up and down my spine as I stare into the monitor in front of me. I can only hear the humming of the air-conditioner until a voice shatters the silence. “Log in to your multiply and you will see that I have posted a blog entry with instruction on what to do today. You will have ten minutes to finish the activity.” The incessant sound of fingers tapping the keyboard fills the room accompanied by groans, sighs, gasps and whispers. A tension arises in the area as each individual is stretched to the limit, pressured and challenged by the only one with straight, calm face... a normal day in H2 English Advanced.

I got better at many things but when humorous essays were set on the table and even though I’ve tried and I’ve tried, some people aren’t just meant to be funny. 

Though not part of my top 3, I still like this tabblo because it sort of made me feel that I can attempt to be funny, even just an attempt would do.

The man sitting on the table says his last words with a smile on his face.  Everyone, like by instinct, stands up on their tables and gives the man the warmest round of applause they have ever given to someone they would refer to as "Teacher". 

No matter how hard this student tries, not even his new found written word could ever fully encompass all that has happened.

I cannot believe the school year has finally ended. All those compositions, tabblos, tests, they're all done! I can certainly say all those sleep-deprived nights (like this one) were really worth this English class.  As a student, I am sure I really put a lot into this class but I could have certainly done better.  To the class, I just want to give them the thanks they deserve for such a fun year. We've shared moments of suffering, euphoria, torment and victory. You guys have kept me hanging on to not only settle for what I could do, but what I can truly do.  I know we came from different sections but I felt home whenever I'm with you guys. To the one and only Sir Nicolay, I just want you to know that this year would never have been as challenging and truly self-fulfulling if it were not for your constant encouragement and dilligence to teach each and every one of us to the best of your abilities. Though it is cliche, I just have to say, this class is the best I've ever had!

Wave after wave, I was flooded with requirements forcing me to write even though I did not have the perfect disposition and inspiration to make a work I myself can call art.  There were times I felt moved to write what I feel given the topic of the activity but unfortunately for me, this was flipping a coin. I guess this is why sometimes I have to honestly say, it’s like I wrote just for the heck of submitting something.  I was surprised though when one day, our teacher, Sir Nicolay, gave us another workshop this time about writing stories and he gave us only ten minutes to write an entirely fictional story about any of the three topics he gave us to indulge.  I wrote on a person winning raffle that in the end lost his life for it.  Everything seemed to just pop up in my head as I was typing away and I finally understood the stream of consciousness.  In the next activities that came, I would do the same thing and just let the words flow giving me a chance to just release all that I had inside.

These would be my top two favorite tabblos because for some reason, I felt proud that I was able to write about a topic oh so used up as love. I was even still able to add something a little bit different from the normal idea of a love tabblo.

The Solitaire Mystery is a book that depicts philosophical concepts and ideas about life and how people are naive to see the beauty and wonder of life.  This is done through a fictional story with the main character, Hans Thomas, as one who finds a sticky-bun book and unravels the story of his great grandfather and his adventure in an uncharted island.  Here, he faces his own fantasies as the playing cards he once played with burst into breathing people.  There is a Joker that stands out from the rest of the cards as Hans Thomas and his line of fathers have stood out from the rest of the world with their theories of life.  No other book discusses topics like this in a form of a fictional story first thought of as a children’s story so well and in ways that would make anyone think.  This book would have to be the book that opens all eyes to look, observe and be aware that we are actually living though we do not know why.  It is not only insightful but a very intriguing book that gives an impact to ask the question, “Do you know why you’re living?”

I will never lose that image imprinted in my mind of how each class always left me hanging, thinking, and desiring to be more than what I am as a person with a gift of the English language.  With that feeling now embedded in me, I was somehow able to go out of my comfort zone from a person who simply talked, to a person who can convey his thoughts through words.  With each experience, I was better at explaining what my five senses have captured with descriptive writing.  My vocabulary has increased and I could now stray from the typical descriptions everyone is already too used to and thus, has given me a chance to express my individuality.

News article writing would at first seem pretty dull and boring but I guess it depends on what the topic is.  If you were really there to experience it all, it's actually pretty interesting and a lot of fun so I would make this my favorite composition.  My thoughts coincided with my words and I will never forget this very interesting event in my high school life as part of the class 2B.

With ten minutes that turned into ten months as the tick of the clock strikes 12, the day is done and I have had a good run.  I found out that through my classes, I am a person fond of that last-minute pressure pretty much subconsciously though many times I really plan ahead to avoid cramming.  I end up wasting my time if I know that the requirement’s deadline is still far from the time being.  Besides that, my first encounter with poetry was so dreadful that my view of myself as a reader was shrunken to an innocent ten year-old boy’s level of understanding.  It could be because of the constant hammering of the thought that “Poetry is hard. I can’t do it.”, that kept me trapped in that pit of insecurity.  I am happy to say that even though I started out pretty bad, I had the encouragement of my fellow classmates and the constructive criticism of my teacher to keep me going and form a path for improvement.