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In “The Professor is a Dropout,” Beth Johnson tells the story of Guadalupe Quintanilla. When Lupe was a child she had to face trials and tribulations as she was growing up and even as a woman. As a child she was tested to be retarded, she had an IQ of sixty-four. As a result, her teachers treated her differently and had to drop out of first grade. Later on, she married when she was sixteen and had three children in the years to come. When her children started going to school, all three of them were tested retarded and were into a program called yellow birds for kids that were slow learners. Lupe blamed herself at first but later became tired of feeling sorry for herself. She became determined, persistent and did everything she could to further …show more content…
In the morning after eating breakfast, I would get this feeling in my gut that something bad was going to happen to me in school. Sometimes nothing happened. Other times I would just get bullied and get into fights but I would always be blamed for starting it. I couldn’t defend myself because I didn’t know English and my mom as well, so I didn’t tell her anything about what was going on or anyone. I kept my mouth shut like the bully told me to. Throughout the years’ I felt so alone, depressed, things a child shouldn’t experience or feel. When the school year was done, I had failed 3rd grade. One day I was going to the park and I got jumped by the same bullies from my school they had taken my money my mom gave me and beat me up. I woke up laying on the ground and night was nearing. I was filled with anger and I screamed “NO! MORE!” repeatedly. During the summer I thought if learning English even if it’s a little bit, can get me a chance to move on from this depressing time, I would grab that chance. Every day after summer school, I would go to the public library and see if there were any books that taught basic English. Good thing the librarian’s assistant knew Spanish. During that time, I learned that I didn’t need any ones’ help, I had me and only …show more content…
Like Lupe, I wanted to learn English and be more determine to learn new things, but bullying got in the way of that. Which made me think that I could do everything by myself and not need anyone to help me. It took time for me to learn that there are people out there that do care and can trust. A day or two later, Mr. Robles convinced me to go to the after school program so he could help me improve my grades. Since that day I’ve never stop working hard in school or stopped thinking about of what he said. After elementary school, I never stopped visiting him or asking him for advice. When I finished High School, I wanted to show him proof of what I had accomplished but… he had passed away. I just hope that he sees me now today from above, writing this essay of how grateful I am to have met
Often the change and transition to middle is a difficult one for students, so it is no surprise that a student of Juanita’s caliber would be having trouble as well. Her regular middle school teachers were not going above and beyond to make sure Juanita succeed, if anything it seemed as if Juanita was a burden to them. If it was not for the Ms. Issabelle’s effort, Juanita would have failed the 6th grade, and possibly fell through the cracks of the education system.
Their style and actions were deemed inappropriate because it did not adhere to the school standard of conduct. Thus, they were left on their own, without support or comprehension from the school staff. Because of this belief held by the school personnel, las chicas would be placed on a vocational tracking system. Once placed on this track, las chicas were essentially denied any chance of escaping their current socio-economic class. Las chicas and other hard-living girls were often told that college courses would be too difficult for them. Many of las chicas actually had high grades in their classes, but the grades didn’t matter because the courses they took wouldn’t qualify them for a four-year college. For many, the prospect of college dwindled, and with it, any hope for escaping their class in the future. They would head either to community college or straight to work in low-wage jobs. They were systematically excluded from any chance of improving their
Beth Johnson’s “The Professor is a Dropout” recounts the story of Guadalupe Quintanilla, a Mexican-American immigrant who moved to America with her grandparents at the age of 12. There she was enrolled in school where she had to take an IQ test that was entirely in English. Not knowing the language, she did poorly. She was labeled ‘Retarded’ and put into the first grade, forced to learn with children half her age. After a humiliating incident involving her being scolded for speaking in her native language, Lupe dropped out of school and instead helped out her Grandparents around the house, continuing to read and learn in Spanish at home. At 16, she married, and in five years’ time had three children. When her children started school they
When I first came to this country, I wasn’t thinking about the language, how to learn it, use it, write, how I’m going to speak with people who are next to you and you want to talk to them. My first experience was in Veterans School, it was my first year in school here in United States, and I was in eight grades. The first day of school you were suppose to go with your parent, especially if you were new in the school, like me. What happened was that I didn’t bring my dad whit me, a woman was asking me a lot of questions and I was completely loss, I didn’t have any idea of what she was telling me and I was scare. One funny thing, I started cry because I fell like frustrate, I didn’t know no one from there. Someone seat next to me, and ask me in Spanish what was wrong and I just say in my mind thanks God for send me this person, then I answered her that I didn’t know Engl...
Mrs. Plot, one of the hardest English teachers in Murray County High School, was my teacher that year. She was a very determined and driven teacher that did not tolerate her students to fail her class, even if they were lazy. I had heard horror stories from her former students, but she was nothing like they said she was. She was the only teacher that I have connected with all throughout school. I looked forward to her class every morning because she always made learning fun. Mrs. Plot gave out good advice about English, but she also gave me personal advice and was more of a friend to me. She always knew what to say to me when I had problems. She motivated me to do better with my writing; we went to a journalism class together every week that year. Mrs. Plot deepened my love for reading and writing. Without her, I would not be the kind of student I am today. On every assignment in her class, I got the most feedback and it helped me out a lot. It took me a long time to become a decent writer, but with her help she sped up the process. I put all of my effort in every single paper I have written, especially for her
Life in the middle school and high school was not easy for me. I had become an introvert, I still didn’t know how to be social, and I had very few friends. I was teased for being very quiet, and some people insinuated that I’m scared of fellow people. On the other hand life at home was difficult. My mother had become so bitter and pleased her was next to impossible. She became very harsh with my brother and me, and we were always scolded for even the smallest mistakes. Once in a while, my father would come for us and take us to the city he lived. I would look out of the windows as we drove out of town and would imagine how life in another city would feel like. I looked at the skies, and all I saw were promises of a better future. All my life I had lived in San
As we arrived, my stomach started to turn inside out, and I wasn’t sure why, but I knew when that happens I turn into a nervous wreck. They sat me in the hallway as they chattered about me I was assuming. On our bumpy car ride home, my parents stopped through an ice cream shop, knowing that’s a way to cheer their little boy. They sat me down and told me about how the teacher is concerned with my low-level reading and writing skills. It bothered me very much, that the teacher had never said anything to me one on one. My parents told me that I might be held back, and to stay positive and don’t let this bring you down. This caused so much confusion and discouragement for a seven year old boy. I was still in discomfort after the day reading because of how the kids laughed when I read my
I went to school and worked diligently to keep my grades up so my parents wouldn’t need to worry about my future. My father’s health declined. He became explosively angry, lost part of his hearing, speech, and sense of touch and couldn’t remember everyday things. I remember being yelled at when we were working on the old blue Chevy truck together and I put a wrench in his left hand. He thought I was being slow to get it from the toolbox, but he couldn’t feel it resting in his palm. When things became increasingly serious with my father’s situation, my mother informed the school and I strongly remember their support in and out of the classroom from my peers and teachers. I missed the last two weeks of school due to my father’s death. I was 10 and my mother was 29. The school sent flowers and froze my grades.
Hi, I’m Nathalia Thompson. I am a workaholic who lives in Calabasas, California on her own. Why you say? Well my mother and sister live back in Spain, where the president is keeping Spain’s citizens hostage, so that gives me no way to see them or for them to come and visit me. But anyways, it had only been about a month since I moved here to America and surprisingly, I know most of the English language, I’d been taking some English courses anyways. It was hard for me to adapt to my environment and all of these changes but somehow I did, I had been used to being around my mother and my younger sister my entire life and now I was on my own. It sounded a little scary to think about but I
Soon, after I had settled into my house in Sterling Heights, elementary school started. When school started I didn’t know how to speak English so I was put in ESL, English Second language, where I would go for a half a day. This process was not easy, because I was so young. Everywhere I went there was someone new around me. My first year I was the quiet girl that didn’t talk to anyone. During fourth grade, I stopped going to the English Second Language school and just attended my regular public school. During the transition from third grade to fourth grade, I started to become more comfortable with the people and started to participate
...ents, and my English problem. I didn’t even have control of my own identity at that point. In the bilingual classroom my education depended upon the teachers and the system. I couldn’t express my viewpoints to faculty members like I do now in college. For instance, in college when I need help in a certain class, I can just go and talk to the professor or even to my counselor. Unfortunately, in grammar school, I didn’t know how to talk about the situation. As a result, in college I have been determined to change my study habits and take back control of my identity because I see how a student cannot survive with inefficient study habits. I realize now that, as a child, I was disadvantaged in many ways. Today, I have to be prepared to do extra to make up for a poor educational background by spending more time studying, focusing on school, and controlling my life.
I was anxious to start my journey as an improved reader. My sister and I walked home together from school. I kicked some pine cones and started to ponder on Mrs. Wright's words. Unexpectedly, I felt discouraged. I knew I wanted to improve, but I didn’t know how. At that time, my parents worked so much so I wouldn't see them very often after school. Rushing up to my room, I began to cry. Frustration had taken over my soul and it wouldn't let up. My tears blurred my vision and warmed my small face. The more I thought about it, the more I cried. I had broke down because I felt helpless and trapped. In the midst of my despair, I felt something tell me "You have my love and you can overcome any obstacle." I believe it was God who reminded me that He has not abandon me, even through that tough time, He was faithful to me. These words built up my courage and faith. No longer would I feel helpless and trapped. I got out my notebook and wrote what was my objective for the next day. In my notebook I slowly and carefully wrote " Get help." I knew I couldn’t do this alone, so I seeked for someone to point me to the right direction. That next day, I got up an hour early just so I can accomplish my first goal. My mother was up and said, " You are kind of early today aren't you?" I answered, " Yes, I am. I need some help with school so I decided to go early." She smiled and gave me a kiss on my forehead. Her kisses always made my days better. I
My father was always there for me, whether I wanted him to be or not. Most of the time, as an adolescent trying to claim my independence, I saw this as a problem. Looking back I now realize it was a problem every child needs, having a loving father. As hard as I tried to fight it, my dad instilled in me the good values and work ethic to be an honest and responsible member of society. He taught me how to be a good husband. He taught me how to be a good father. He taught me how to be a man. It has been 18 years since my father’s death, and I am still learning from the memories I have of him.
...e of the fact that he did not get to receive the higher education, he motivated me to go to college and become a better person. His life story not only inspires me to work harder towards obtaining my educational goal, but also to work in helping other people.
He was my favorite english teacher I have had out of all the ones he's the one who helped me the most. When I moved onto High school I had started writing stories seriously I made an account online where that is about writing stories for others to see, they were an outlet, I couldn't stop doing I loved looking at others then going from what they had an writing down storylines and thinking of how I could make it better, or taking a book I liked, then going online and writing the story sequel but in my perspective with people I believed would play the person or who I believed the character reminded me of and I would use them in the storyline and just sorta make it up from there. Or even taking little day dreams I had and writing short stories or as I called them Imagines. Where I would take a day dream and use a person I pictured portrayed the imagine well and write them and publish them. As I got a little older around sophomore year I stopped over the summer because I kinda forgot, but once I came back and logged onto my old profile I saw how many people had read my stories and commented and liked and were waiting for a new update or new stuff was amazing and made me extremely proud of my