This writing will back off a little bit, as I was at the first six month in USA. I had a chance to take an English training, which consisted of Reading, Speaking, Writing, and Listening classes. The classes were really intense because they were like a time school-schedule, where I had to be in the class at 8 am and off the class around 4 or 5 pm in every day. The gap between classes was only 10 minutes. Occasionally, from one class to another class, I must have walked across the campus, which took 10 minutes away. Ultimately, I realized my calves were becoming bigger due of the intensity of walking all day long.

Reading comprehension was a class that I took at that time. It was completely and totally boring class. Reading and answer the questions were the activities that we usually did every meeting. And the end of the class, the lecturer gave us homework to do, which was usually due on next week. The homework became a very boring activity throughout the weekends. I just realized other classmates started doodling when they were in the class.

One day the lecturer gave us homework, and he gave us to paraphrase the article. I did very confidently, and I thought I would have gotten a good score on it.

That day, when he gave us back of the homework, I was completely shocked towards what I got. I got big zero “O”, and  he wrote on the top of the paper with “plagiarism”, which meant I was considered as a person took somebody’s work without citation. It broke my heart so badly. It completely sucked. I worked so hard to do that; he could not even give any appreciation of my work. I was not taking a chance to meet with him afterward. That day as if the sadness came down to the earth, I was really feeling so  blue and could not think clearly. The weather seems to agree with my condition with gloomy and outcast along with a tiny drizzle.

I came down the stair because my class was in the second floor. I bumped into some of classmates like no emotion and expression at all. In a way home, I still saw that paper, and my heart like bit me so bad, I could feel it like real. The more I saw, the more I hated the lecturer. How could he never appreciate my work? It did not happen one time I got bad grades from him. But this time was the worst in my life. I did not want to make that zero grade drag me in the hell. I did not want to remember that again, and eventually I torn that paper up and I threw it away in the dustbin.

Still, I walked down like a monster who run out of the blood.


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