It was a long time ago when I was a child, playful and full of energy. My classmates just entered the room after coming back from lunch recess. We were all yelling and laughing, each child was talking to their friends as they did every day. Everyone was energetic, with no one sitting in their seats. On a daily basis the teacher would enter the classroom and we would all quiet down, then scatter to our seats. However, it was on this normal day that my first grade teacher came into the room who was met by a horrific surprise.
My first grade classroom was the only room that had its own private bathrooms; one for the boys and the other for the girls. They were kept very clean and were more appealing then the shared germy bathrooms in the school. Most of my classmates and I would line up to use the toilets after coming back from recess. I entered the classroom in a rush towards the bathroom, where I just made it in time to use it before everyone else. My thoughts were only on empting my bladder, so when it came to flushing the toilet and washing my hands, I had realized to la...
My youth pastor pulled out of our church parking lot at three am in the morning loaded down with a bus full of twenty four teenagers including me. We were off at last head to Colorado Spring Colorado, little did I know, our bus was going to fall apart this very day.
The sun is making its way up the horizon, but has not yet filled the sky with its cheerful rays. We exit the bus and immediately turned into statues. We stood next the flag pole staring at the school entrance. “This is going to be okay. This is going to be okay” I mumbled to myself. I wanted to enter, nonetheless, gravity glued my feet down to the cold concrete ground. My hands started sweating through my thin-knitted pink sweater and tears were about to roll off my eyes. Shortly after, I saw a shadow of a tall woman approaching us from the school’s front door. My heart beats like a drum as she carefully making her way toward us like you would when you proceed a scared puppy. She stood about four feet away from us making sure she’s not invading our comfort zone. She knelt down and shows us her school staff ID card while holding her buzzing walkie talkie on the other hand. She then ask for our names and walked us one by one to our classrooms. I remember it was so early that I had to sit in front of my class waiting for my teacher to
In the story Gryphon, by Charles Baxter, a boy named Tommy who goes to Five Oaks elementary meets an interesting new teacher. As the story begins, Tommy’s teacher, Mr.Hibler, tells his class that he has been feeling sick today and won’t be coming to class tomorrow. The next day, someone amazing comes in the classroom and turns out to be no ordinary substitute teacher. As the day goes on, she tells her students unusual stories and everyone loved the stories/facts. In the story it says “There was not a sound in the classroom, except for Miss Ferenczi’s voice, and Donna DeShano’s coughing. No one even went to the bathroom.“ The next time Miss Ferenczi came to their classroom was early December. This time Miss Ferenczi brought tarot cards so that she can determine her students future and unfortunately she got in trouble. Later that day Miss Ferenczi was fired and left the school. Tommy defended Miss Ferenczi because she made school interesting, was different than other teachers, and really cared for her students.
I walked in and my stomach made a flip-flop like riding “The Scream” at Six Flags. Everyone was staring at me! With their curios eyes and anxious to know who I was. I froze like ice and felt the heat rise through my face. My parents talked to my teacher, Ms.Piansky. Then my mom whispered “It’s ti...
It is a common occurrence that people have some sort of experience that they can not explain, and these experiences make for a great story likely to be told to everyone around them. Some experiences could be very minor, but in s...
No one else was around. After watching the umpteenth Law and Order rerun, I got bored and started channel surfing. A couple minutes later, I stumbled onto this shitty public access channel where, bizarrely enough, my old high school Latin teacher was reciting a poem while wearing this dorky three-cornered hat. I watched for a few minutes and had a good laugh—I remembered him as a pretty serious guy, not the sort of person who’d embarrass himself in public like this—when suddenly there was this static-y crackle and the screen cut to this multi-colored test
During the school year of 2005, I was in second grade and I remember sitting in the classroom during our math lesson when I felt an eraser hit my head. I turned around the see what caused the eraser to strike my head and my eyes led me to the table behind me where six of my classmates sat and giggled. I quickly turned back around and began doing my math problems again. Thats when another eraser hit my head. I turned around immediately with a annoyed look on my face to the table behind me. They laughed again. That's when my second grade teacher Mrs. Gardner yelled my name and said " I have been watching you turn around for the past five minutes. Pay attention to your work before I make you sit out during recess!" The class chuckled , and I turned
I expected to receive a variety of reactions anywhere from hostility and uncomfortability to acceptance and respect. But I had predicted the major reaction would be discomfort. As previously stated the place where this took place was South Western High School during a school day. I observed the reactions of students as well as teachers as I walked through
A scream echoed through the empty hallways of County High School as we heard the news. How did that happen to me?" I thought to myself. This had to have been planned out previously by someone. This event was the Student Government elections held last year, my sophomore year.
Another male teacher and I made sure all of our “students” had evacuated the Madison Room, and we brought up the rear of the second batch of sixty kids. Suddenly, a male chaperone from a Catholic high school class that had also been staying at the Tyson’s Corner motel came running over to us, screaming the larynx out of his throat.
In 8th grade back when I was still going to a public school I went to Memorial Elementary School. Of course, the day was like any other, but this happened in my English class. My teacher Mrs. Wilt was reading a book and we were supposed to be following along. Out of nowhere I looked up from my book and stared around the classroom. Nobody stared back at me and nobody else looked up. I thought to myself questioning everything. Why was everybody following along? What made us want to follow along even when we didn’t want to? The answer to that is because somebody other than ourselves said we had too
I am a 7th grader at Marin middle school. All the smiling faces can fool everyone but me. This place isn’t a happy place. In my mind, this is prison. I walk slowly to my first class, “hey guys look, it’s the bastard” says one of my female classmates. Everyone in class starts laughing and I am the only who thinks this isn’t funny. I turn around, sit on my desk and pretend that they are not laughing at me. It is a part of my everyday routine. I am starting to set up my desk with a paper and a pencil. Suddenly, one of the kid next to me just grab my pencil and throw it out of the window. Yeah, school has
Keri B. had a teacher named Damara R. Damara was loved by all of her students. One morning, on her way from home to the school to work, she was texting on a straight area of the highway. At that moment, an eighteen wheeler was coming off the breakdown lane back onto the highway and she hit his flatbed trailer. She never knew what hit her. She has not once even hit her brakes. Keri B. and other students were depressed for a very long time because of that. Damara was Keri’s favorite teacher. She is still very missed till this day by her co-workers and students.
I remember the first time I walked into the classroom, it was unlike any classroom that used to know. Everything was unorganized, kids were out of their seats, silly posters and drawings cover most of the walls, and books, pencils, and markers were all over the place. The teacher didn’t seem to be bothered by all the ruckus happening in that room. She was a large woman who seem to be in her 40s with short white hair and unusually pale skin. She asked for my name, and so I introduced myself. Anything else that she said beyond that is but a blur to me. As she introduce me to the class, I couldn’t help but to look confused and stay silent. My eyes wander around the room and I watch as the others murmur and chatter among themselves. Immediately, I realize that I was out of place. Something about me was different from the others. It wasn’t because of the color of my skin, nor my ethical background; the class itself was very well diverse. It was something on a deeper level, a connection that they all but myself have in common. The ability to translate emotions into words that can be shared and to be understands by others. It was the language that they
I turn around and look at the school and my heart started pounding really fast. I felt like a little bug inside a mansion, the school was enormous. I took a deep breath and walked into the entrance of the school. I pulled out my schedule and headed to my first class. As I was looking for my first class I got lost and couldn’t find it so I stopped by a random teacher’s room and asked her to direct me. She looked mean and smelt like cigarettes. She got up and said with a deep voice “you’re in the junior hall, go to the other side of the school you will find the freshmen hall” I looked at her confused and walked away. I still struggled but I made it to my first class late and embarrassed. I did not know anybody in the school because I was new to the area so I had no friends. I chose a small desk in the very back and watched all the students chatter. The teacher suddenly stands up and says “Hello I’m Mr. Kennedy, Good morning” all the students reply energetically “Good morning”. The teacher insisted we introduced our self so I stood up and said “hello my name is Osama, I’m 14 and love baseball”. After the whole class went the teacher handed us a thick booklet to read and be signed by our parents. When the class was settled another student walked up to me and said “Is your name really Osama? Like Osama Bin Laden?” I quickly got up and shoved him into another desk and