For my third literacy moment, I will take you back with me to my sophomore year of high school. I was in one of the two required humanities courses, The American Dream, was the generic version of the course. Being that I was enrolled in the honors version of the course, I was going to have much more expected out of me than in the past. I can with confidence say, this class was one of, if not the most unenjoyable , yet helpful undertakings simultaneously that I have ever done. This course taught me more about my abilities to write, and how to improve them, than any other type of class or program to this very day. It was so challenging for me at a point, that I had seriously considered dropping into the easier version of the class.

The class was located in room one thirty seven, the primary humanities room on the first floor. it was a large class, being a humanities room, it was in essence , two rooms combined to form a single large room. The seating was rows of hexagon shaped tables, three deep, two chairs to a table. When it comes to those involved in this moment, most are entirely irrelevant. All except on, my teacher who was the primary handler of the English and literature portion of this course. These humanities classes are typically so large, that two teachers were needed to handle and manage them. This is easily the most important literacy moment for me. If this were a general narrative, that was not bonded by word count restrictions, I could get into more in depth detail of why this moment was so important for me. I can say though, with the utmost sincerity, that I can attribute any and all of my intelligible writing abilities to this moment, one that happens to extend for the entirety of my sophomore schooling.