As part of the various distribution requirements that one is expected to fulfill before graduating from Princeton, there is a mandatory course that all Princeton students must take: Writing Seminar—or colloquially called "Writing Sem." Even before I stepped onto Princeton's campus as a bona fide student, this course haunted me. Given that so much of a Princeton student's academic work relies on independent research and writing, the University kindly allows students to foster those skills in a classroom setting during either their first-year fall or spring semester. While most of the Princeton I spoke to before coming to the University lauded the independence of choosing classes and exploring niche topics in these classes, the conversation often got menacing when we reached the subject of the Writing Seminar. I'd quickly become intimidated as these students spoke of the hours of writing they had to do, the harsh grading, and the (sometimes) strict professors. Princeton writing seminars, at the time, required three papers: one 5-6 page paper, one 7-8 page paper, and one 10-12 page paper. On top of that, there are many other smaller assignments, readings, and feedback sessions that one has to complete during the 12-week semester. Thus, while I was lucky enough to take a Writing Seminar during the spring semester of my first year—after having some rigorous Princeton courses under my belt—by the time January rolled around and it was time to brave this beast of a course; I was very anxious.
However, upon arriving at my Writing Seminar classroom for WRI 129: Disrupting Nature, I was immediately assuaged by my professor's kind smile and warm welcome. Our class session immediately started with icebreaker questions—favorite TV shows, recommended books, etc.—and it was clear that this seminar would be more than just a class that the university required us to take; it would be a community. I won't lie; I had no idea what I was doing when I arrived at the seminar's first graded paper. I scribbled out six pages of (what I like to call) nonsense about climate change and human sacrifice, but I'm not sure what the seminar expected of me. And when I received my professor's feedback, I was pretty disheartened. I felt like I had written a failure of a paper. However, the hidden beauty of Princeton writing seminars is that you always get a second chance:
You turn in drafts of your graded papers.
Your professor returns these drafts with meticulous feedback.
You revise.
The revision is what's graded. So, I rallied. I engaged with my professor's feedback, asked numerous questions in class, pored over my materials, and revised. And even in the end, I did not get the grade I had hoped for on this first paper. But, for what seemed like the first time in my academic journey, that didn't matter as much to me. What mattered more was a comment my professor left on my revision. "I can see the improvement from the draft to the revision." She could see my progress, and so could I! I was learning. I was growing. It felt good.
For the rest of the semester, I committed myself to caring more about progress than grades: engaging with reading materials that I typically would avoid, spending more time brainstorming essay subjects than I'd ever done in the past, and asking questions that I usually would keep to myself. All for the sake of growth. When the second paper came around, I was genuinely excited about writing it. I felt like I knew what I was doing, and I was excited to learn more while writing it. My grade on this paper improved from the prior, but so did my motivation. The task of academic writing was no longer intimidating; it was kind of fun.
For our final paper in Writing Seminar, we were allowed to write about a topic of our choice. Given my interest in literature and what it says about us as human beings, I chose to write about the importance of nature-related children's literature during the pandemic. With the help of my professor and classmates (who I'd become so comfortable with in a matter of months), I was able to find intriguing sources and go down intriguing rabbit holes. Although I spent most of my spring finals season tucked into Firestone library, analyzing depictions of talking rabbits and bears, I was enjoying myself. The tools that I had learned in Writing Seminar allowed me to approach writing this 10-12 page paper with some ease. There were moments when I got stuck and felt unsure of where to go next while writing, but the resources of my professor, my classmates, and the Princeton Writing Center enabled me to brainstorm and move forward. By Dean's Date (the date at the end of the semester when all written academic work is due), I was beyond proud and excited to turn my paper in. I had completed Princeton's daunting Writing Seminar. And I was a little sad to leave it behind.
There are many academic beasts that Princeton students must brave on the path to obtaining their degree. However, braving this specific beast of the First-Year Writing Seminar has taught me that difficult academic obstacles are a part of the beauty of higher academia. Facing these obstacles, struggling, getting past them, and learning new things in the meantime are all part of academic growth and success. Moreover, looking back and seeing the hills you climbed to reach the next steps of your academic career makes the process all the more fulfilling. So, I'll get excited the next time I feel daunted by a step in my academic journey. I'm ready to grow.