I don't think you really need worry. I don't see how any self respecting English teacher could set that as an exercise without knowing it to be pretty awful. My guess is that he's given you something you can shred into tatters and then laugh at the individual snippets of stupidity. No doubt the next piece you get will be far more difficult to fault. Maybe a bit like this: Sunlight glittered off the falling dust, as it streamed through the moth-nibbled holes in the heavy curtains of the old farmhouse. She awoke besides him in bed, it was the first time they had shared a bed for a quarter of a century. Sharing a bed with any man had been unusual to her over that time and now she found herself back besides her first lover. She looked at the back of his head, now more grey than blond, on the pillow and she recalled how he had turned hers when she was a young girl, how dashing he looked in his officer’s uniform, the polished boots, the medals and braid, even the silver insignia on his lapel like two bolts of lightening. She thought back to the officers’ balls in the château and the gifts of chocolate, real chocolate- not the wartime version, perfume and ration tokens. The sorts of things that made her friends envious and made the local boys recognise that she was out of their league. He was still oblivious to the world. She slowly swung her legs out from under the white cotton sheets and padded across the floor boards and rugs to the darkly varnished wooden door, and from there down to the kitchen to make breakfast. She decided that she’d wake him once it was ready. The kitchen was bright, the light pouring through the un-shuttered windows and bouncing between the white walls. She tore some slabs of brioche and put them besides strawberry jam blobs on two plates, then while waiting for the water to boil she started lazily picking bits of brioche and dipping the edge into the jam as she thought back through the month up to last night.