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There was once this girl I knew in first grade. She wasn’t what you would call the perfect child. She used to talk all through class, not do her homework, and lie ALL THE TIME. She knew her parents would kill her if they knew what her life was like in school so she told them lies. She told them she has been getting excellent grades, she was the class and hall monitor, and even her teacher’s favorite student.
It’s not like she was this bad ALL the time, it was just at school. What she didn't know at the time was because her parents weren’t at school to watch her every move she felt like she could act out. Also in India, they don’t call or email your parents about bad behavior. Her parents had no idea what was happening. She was getting away with it so she thought, why not?
Then came that dreaded friday; Parent- Teacher Conference. It was a half that day and her Mom came to pick her up. As they talked inside, she played outside with her friends, not a
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Her mother took her out onto the blazing terrace and beat her with a belt. It wasn’t a serious beating, like abuse, it was just hard enough to knock some sense into her. At the time, she hated her mother for embarrassing her and for hitting her. But now that she is older, she is so thankful to her mother for doing that and for raising her right. That first grader was me, if you haven’t guessed already. It made me into what I am today. If I had been grounded or gotten away with a warning, I would have not understood that impact of what I did. Because of that (and many other incidents), I can say I am pretty close to the “perfect student”. You might be thinking that “Wow that was harsh for a first grader, but think like this. That first grader could have grown up to be a pathological liar, failed her studies, never gotten into a collage or get a job and eventually lose all of her friends and family. Do you really want that to be your
She’s just so weak. If she would stand up for herself, no one would bother her. It’s her own fault that people pick on her, she needs to toughen up. “Shape of a Girl” by Joan MacLeod, introduces us to a group of girls trying to “fit in” in their own culture, “school.” This story goes into detail about what girls will do to feel accepted and powerful, and the way they deal with everyday occurrences in their “world.” Most of the story is through the eyes of one particular character, we learn about her inner struggles and how she deals with her own morals. This story uses verisimilitude, and irony to help us understand the strife of children just wanting to fit in and feel normal in schools today.
The hard part was getting the note inside her desk. When she found it she waited outside the school for nothing. When she came back to school the next day she was really mad.
Classmates even said that Katherine was a loner that bullied to the smaller kids at school. She attended Muswellbrook high school up to the age of 15 and dropped out. During her years in school, she assaulted one boy and got injured by a teacher that said to be using self-defense. On the other side when she was not in rage she was seen as a model student and received rewards for her good behavior. She never learned how to read and write in school, but she still managed to gain a job as a cutter in a clothing factory. Several months after this job she went to her dream job at an abattoir where she ended owning her own butcher knives. When at home she would hang knives all around her bed in case they were ever needed, she continued to do this until she was put in
exercise when she was in third grade, had changed her life at all. She is the
She got really homesick and missed her mother and her sister. Going to many schools made her
She took the lessons that her father had given her and ran with them. From not having her own opinion, and using others without knowing, to making independent judgements by looking at it from someone else's shoes. This is a lesson anyone from any age group can use, especially in high school. Kids are often too judgemental of others, making their own assumptions of others based off rumors. They don’t think that there could be another side, or a different view of the situation or the person. Many people are not as they seem, but it just takes some walking in their shoes to truly
She helped me understand some of the things I had problems on, but not all of them. The next test I made a slightly better grade, but not what I needed it to be. I kept going to toutoring but the math just kept getting arduous. My grades kept getting worse and worse. The rest of the school year I knew just enough to pass. I was finally out of eighth grade.
To begin with, Mrs. McAllister was as compassionate as one could be. She always went out of her way to get to know each and everyone of her students. In the fourth grade, all 14 of us were put into a class for the “gifted and talented”. None of us had ever been in a real class like this before. She did her best to help us adapt to the different and more challenging environment. Mrs. McAllister understood that we were not like the other classes and knew exactly how to treat us. When you had a problem as an individual in her class, it was in her best interest to make sure you were on the right path. Even with all the so called ‘drama’ us fourth
I was extra early to class, at lunch I would tell everyone about the books I was reading, and then during recess I would sit and write everything I saw. By the end of the year, I was reading, speaking, and writing English, and I was only getting better. In the summer, I practiced reading, speaking and writing in fear that I’d fall behind, but to my surprise, I worked so hard, I was asked to skip the second grade. My principle told me that my reading and writing levels were so high, I could be taking third-grade classes, but I decided not to. I decided to stay in second grade and work even harder so I could keep improving and I definitely have, but aside from helping me get better at writing, Mrs. Bogan has really influenced what I
I woke up Tuesday morning excited for the day I was going to spend with my mom. I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking fresh coffee listening to my mom and aunt tease and joke around about how paranoid my mom was about doing well in her classes, my aunt was telling her that maybe now that I was there, she would relax a little bit and have some fun. Our plan was to go to one of mom's classes with her, and then on a tour of UNC and then we were going to go to dinner and a movie.
With the help of her crutches and me we would play on the play ground going down the slides or just siting up there and talking. One of our favorite things to do was race around the playground as fast a s we could. One day I was pushing her around the play ground as fast as I could and around the corner the wheels slipped on wood chips and we both fell thankfully she had her seatbelt on and she was still in the wheelchair. She was laughing and she told me to help back up quickly so the counselors wouldn't see us. Once I got her back up we continued the race laughing about what just happened. As we got into second grade the school began to build an elevator for her and other students because the third, fourth, fifth and sixth grade classes were on the second level and I remember we were both very excited about using it , but sadly she never saw the elevator completed and we never got to use it like we
On that fateful day in March, I was a couple months shy of my third birthday. My family and I lived in New Mexico at the time and were renting a house with an outdoor in-ground pool. The day was beautiful. I was outside with my oldest sister Rachel and my father. Rachel was diligently reading curled up on a bench that sat against the house, and my father was mowing the backyard. My mother and my other sister were in the house. Off to one side of the house there was a group of large bushes. I was playing over there with one of her large cooking pots, off in my own little world. At one point while amusing and en...
When I was four years old mom taught me how to read. This made going to school easier because in kindergarten I already knew how to read. Kindergarden was my very first year of school. On the first day dad took so many pictures and videos of me. I thought I was going to hate school, but I didn’t, yay! So now I love school.
The first day of school started and Kandy was in 10th grade. Her new clothes got her a lot of attention, everyone complimented her about how they loved what she was wearing. That was the only thing she was confident about, her clothes. She knew that her style was awesome. Her best friend, Ang, was in two of her classes. Kandy thought that this would be the best year of school because she never had any friends in any of her classes before. Turns out they both had the same lunch. They would talk up by the road, on the sidewalk, to Speedway everyday for lunch. For some reason people would always honk at them and one day a girl yelled out the window and called them sluts. Obviously because she was jealous. The first few days of school went by fast, then kept getting slower and slower.
My eagerness to embrace life in high school squashed when I came face to face with extreme mean behavior at the hands of kids my own age. My grades started falling, from an honors student I had turned into someone who just hated school. From sulking, to rebelling to being remorseful, had become my permanent demeanor.