A reveiw of my personal tragedy:

My reveiw is on my english class. It's been an agonizing end to the year. Don't get me wrong, I used to love english. At one time, actually just a few months ago, it was my true passion. I love to read, write and study literature. What I diddn't know, was that eventually, engilsh would posess no creativity or freedom of expressin. Last year I was in regular english 12. This year, scince I loved it so dearly, I took english 12 AP. By the end, which is now, it has significantly lowered my dedication and appreciaion of this subject. Essay after essay, expressing perceptions that don't belong to me. I lie to myself and to the poems I analyz. I cannot stand (Im sorry if Im ranting) that we are to read something and come up with not our own interpretation, but the teachers, and everybody elses. Why can't I read a piece of work and come up with a new answer that's not like everyone elses. I truly thought english was about interpreting things according to your own beliefs and experieces. My heart is broken. English and I have parted. All I want to do is write, and thats what I thought this class would do for me; I guess thats what writing class is for. How can the teacher place a poem in front of me and expect me to come up with her opinion or the same interpretation every time?