

Narrative Essay代写案例
Narrative Essay(叙述文章)和Narrative Writing(叙述性写作)是我们在高中和本科的英文写作课,ENGL课in general中会遇到的一种写作类型。我们的代写老师在接到这次narrative essay的任务后非常激动和高兴,不仅仅是因为narrative essay通常较容易,打分也不严格,还因为narrative essay相比于其他的essay文体更加自由,能充分利用第一人称,情绪心理描写等因素来leverage自己的文章质量,最后产出精彩的文学作品!
本次的要求因为遗失的原因,小编简单叙述一下。这节课的主题是justice和culture,教授规定了同学们可以极大程度上自由发挥选定主题,只要主题跟教育,文化,linguistic justice(语言正义/公平)有关即可。考虑到同学在美国TOP100本科就读,代写老师也是美国大学毕业,这次叙述文的主题选为了一个中国国际学生到美国上学的文化冲击,英语教育历程,和一些心态转变。废话不多说,让我们直接来看看这篇narrative essay吧!
Narrative Essay代写正文
“XXX, please step forward, pick your card, and pronounce it,” my kindergarten English teacher said to me with a mesmerizing smile. I panicked, thinking to myself: this isn’t what I signed up for kindergarten. It was during one of the English classes at the beginning of my kindergarten. My English teacher had a bunch of flashcards turned upside down with English names on them and told each student to pick one. Although I do not know if all the kids still remember what their English names were, mine has stayed with me to this day. It was Sam, plain and old, an English name that I had trouble pronouncing when I got it. It stayed with me, is what I have been known as since I came to the States, and serves as a constant reminder of “this isn’t what I signed up for”.
English learning is a large part of my life, a part that has been growing more and more substantial day by day. During my childhood, I listened to and watched all kinds of western music and movies. It planted a seed in my mind, which was that learning English is essentially enlightenment. As many people would know or assume, Chinese culture promotes collectivity and uniformity. Every boy in my school back in China had the same crew cut as part of the school’s requirement and abided by whatever other rules that were imposed on them. It stands in stark contrast to western culture where individuality, pursuit of freedom, and challenging authority are cherished and encouraged. At least that is how media portrayal comes across to me. I was a rebel. I saw the rules imposed on me by the school as unreasonable, rigid, evil, and every other word you can think of to describe totalitarianism.
At the age of 17, my parents decided to send me to the States for secondary education because of the incompatibility between Chinese education and my personality. With the help of a Chinese agency specialized in providing services for Chinese students studying abroad, I arrived in Newark, New Jersey and started my last year of high school. I spoke broken English and lived with my homestay mom and dad. While I was not too concerned about integrating myself into American culture, I strived to attain a relatively proficient level of English, as I had to take the SAT to enter a decent university and survive by speaking the language. The first couple weeks of school were a mixture of thrill and hell. I could hardly understand anything during the class, and nobody went out of their way to accommodate my shortcomings. So I was left with no choice but to study English on my own and try to communicate with my homestay as much as possible. I started reading American literature, constantly practicing sample tests from the thick blue SAT book, initiating awkward conversations with my homestay during dinner, and imitating how American people speak by listening to rap songs and watching youtube videos.
Gradually, I attained some literacy as well as confidence. I began to understand 40% of what my teachers said during class, then 50%, and finally 70%. Understanding English was no longer an issue for me, at least not as much as when I first came. However, it quickly dawned on me that I was yet to face another daunting challenge, which to this day I am still having difficulty with. During lunch at school one day, I was going about my business, eating at my table alone. A white kid approached me and expressed that he wanted to make friends with me. Nervous but excited, I said yes and readied myself for a genuine conversation, the first conversation I am about to have with an American peer. The nervousness and excitement quickly turned into embarrassment because I could not pronounce some of the words right, and the conversation was getting increasingly harder by minutes passing by. The white kid gave up eventually because he could not understand what I was saying; he left without us exchanging contact information, which I assumed was something that teenagers always do.
After school, I beat myself up over what happened during lunch. I thought about the words I could not get right over and over again. I reflected on my rhythm, my flow, the way I struggled to bite my tongue to pronounce the “TH” sound, how I messed up the intonation and pronunciation of word really by saying “REI-LY” with a Mandarin accent, and so forth, all of which made me feel even more like a failure. I gave up all the thinking and covered my head with the pillow, and that familiar inner thought came again: this isn’t what I signed up for. That night, I shared my embarrassment with my homestay. They told me that it is perfectly normal. “You’re more understandable than my grandfather from Ireland and technically he’s an American!” my homestay dad said. They encouraged me to speak more with them and said that I was doing well for someone who has been in an English-speaking country for just over four months, which tremendously helped my speaking, confidence, and motivation to learn later on.
As the summer of 2022 came to an end, it was time for me to leave Newark and come to Long Island for college. My drive was high, and I was determined more than ever. Little did I know that I was about to get carried away by a wave of trepidation and self-loathing on a whole other level. While I can perfectly understand my homestay mom and dad who were born in the 50s, it is difficult for me to understand my peers living in the same dormitory because they use slang all the time. One time during last semester, I woke up to a pungent smell in the middle of the night in my room, only realizing that people were using my bathroom to smoke weed. On the weekends, the sole goal for my roommate and neighbors is to get absolutely obliterated from alcohol. It seems like there is a whole new world about the U.S. that I have not discovered yet, both in terms of culture and language. Last semester, I tried to fit in by following suit, drinking beer with my roommate. After two cans, I lay on my bed with my head spinning, thinking “this isn’t what I signed up for”. But I am glad that I know now what beer pong and shotgunning mean. After all, I am getting better at English, right?
The more slang I know and the more fluent I speak, the more belongingness I feel in this country. I was doing everything I could to fit in, by imitating the American accent, gestures, and immersing myself in American culture. Yet, I did not know the difference between cultural competency and assimilation. So I was in one of my classes, and the instructor did an ice-breaking activity wherein I was to introduce myself to my partner, who is from Bangladesh with a thick accent. He told me his name, and I told him my English name.
“That’s not your real name, is it?” he asked.
“It’s my English name,” I replied.
“Why don’t you say your real name?” he continued asking.
“Well, I thought it might be hard for people to pronounce, but it’s actually XXX” I said, getting a little nervous because people might be overhearing us.
“It’s not hard to pronounce at all! You shouldn’t let people call you what you’re not,” my partner proceeded to say.
I was left speechless. I felt that I was an imposter of some sort who tries so hard to be American, yet I am far from it. It is not that I have been disavowing my heritage all this time. Deep down, I know where I am from and I cherish my background. It is just that someone made me feel it was unnecessary to assimilate myself with American culture, and that people should always be willing to accept who you are, even if it meant that your name is hard to pronounce for them. And then, I read Tan’s Mother Tongue in this class, which again reminded me of the detriments that a broken English or foreign features can bring to someone. I guess having an on-off switch that allows you to American or unamerican is the best thing.
…
Essay点评
这里,这篇narrative essay就结束了。不知通读后的同学有没有跟小编一样发现以下一些有趣的地方?
代写老师在文中穿插了几次“this isn’t what I signed up for”,这句话中文意思可以理解为:这根本不是我期望的/想要的。sign up本身为注册的意思,老师在文中考虑到同学到美国上学下了很大决心,投入了很多精力和资源,将sign up一词很好地与commitment,这份到美国的decision应和起来,用sign up这一个很民俗,不正式,casual的短语替换了相对来说更老套的decision这些词,读起来非常有趣味感。再加上这句话在文中所处的context,例如文章开头处(作者被幼儿园老师要求读英语名字,感到焦虑紧张,从而内心打退堂鼓,告诉自己这种幼儿园不是我signed up for的)和文章中间(作者到美国大学宿舍居住,跟风与室友一起party,喝啤酒,结果喝醉头晕,心想:这种美国大学环境也不是我signed up for的)。简单一句话映射出了作者作为儿童的害羞胆怯,作为在美国上学的中国留学生的文化冲击,无奈。
还有一个让小编捧腹大笑的地方,就是第六段:Last semester, I tried to fit in by following suit, drinking beer with my roommate. After two cans, I lay on my bed with my head spinning, thinking “this isn’t what I signed up for”. But I am glad that I know now what beer pong and shotgunning mean. After all, I am getting better at English, right?
学习英语作为一个本文章的次主题,被幽默讽刺的方式呈现出来。作者说到,虽然我party喝了啤酒头晕目眩,但是还是很高兴,因为至少现在知道了beer pong和shotgunning是什么意思。不管怎么说,我的英语水平在提升,不是吗?小编捧腹大笑,也幽默地回答:“是滴!你现在是一个合格的,糟糕的,有drinking problem的,周末getting f*cked up的美国大学生了!“
至于narrative essay的必须要求和建议,比如5 Ws(What, who, where, when, why),thesis,一个有flow的结构(intro,climax,conclusion),老师也都有满足。实在是一篇很不错的narrative essay,虽然有些许赘述的片段和不那么native speaker的syntactic use。
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