The cold breeze on Monday morning fogged the freezing cars. It was already 20 degrees at 8 a.m. A few teachers stood outside amongst the arriving students in the lot. Many people biked to school, but biking on this day wasn’t smart, but I made it. Bugbee Elementary School, where I got my first glimpse of education, started me off on a good path to success. I walked through the doors that morning, excited for the day ahead.
But, this story is not about how I was educated. Its actually about how I misbehaved.
So, all the way back to Second Grade with “mean mean Mrs. Green!” Obviously, she was not my favorite teacher. Mrs. Green was the most strict teachers I had throughout elementary school. I was happy with almost every teacher in elementary school but Mrs. Green. She is one of those teachers I have absolutely no remembrance
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In the morning, shortly before lunch, I went to the “bathroom.” Walking in, an acrid smell of a dirty, old bathroom floor filled my nostrils. My feet began to stick to the floor because of the dried substance on the ground.
Then, I heard some noise: he was already getting very excited about his new sport. It sounded like a sports event was happening or like the Oakland Raiders scored a touchdown.
Before spotting Pat in the corner of the bathroom, I took a long look around. To my left, the three, blue, rusty stalls half-open. To my right, three little sinks with knobs to dispense the water. Just past the stalls were the urinals, which reached to the ground. They had a small puddle of substance in front of them. Then there was Pat, standing next to them. Pat introduced me to a fun, exciting, new sport. The goal was to shoot paper towel balls over the stall doors into the toilets. Yeah, the activity was stupid. But in the moment, it seemed like the new big thing. Before beginning to play, I was hesitant.
“Come on, try it!” yelled
We park and enter the store. Suleiman runs straight to the restroom which is probably the only reason why we are here. I grab some waters. Ollie grabs some chips.
With their help I left John Edgar Howard elementary school with a strong head on my shoulders, and the devotion to strive for more. I had to move to a different elementary school because John Edgar Howard Elementary ended up being closed, because of the rough neighborhood. I then, attended Bradbury Heights; a school that I didn’t know existed. I was never exposed to many different neighborhoods, or opportunities. I managed to graduate and proceed to middle school where I continued my athletic career of basketball, and outstanding academic profile.
Many challenges come with being home-schooled, like not making friends and being around them all the time. Imagine being home-schooled for the first five years of your life and then being thrown into a normal school in the fifth grade. Going to school for the first time is stressful all by itself, but being way different from everyone is even more stressful. Small ears, droopy eyes, and a headset, all things we are not used to seeing on an average individual’s face. August Pullman cannot walk into a room without people turning their heads and staring at him, most people even get frightened when meeting him for the first time.
My dad picked up the bamboo bat, threw the ball up in the air, and swung the bat. The ball went sailing over my head. I ran, and ran, and ran all the way to the ball. I picked up the ball and fired it to the cutoff man. “OW!!”
Many teenagers would agree the last place that they want to be is in school. This attitude is evident in both “I Go Along”, and “I Just Wanna Be Average”. However, as much as some may defy school, it is undeniable that education opens up opportunities to those of all academic levels. For instance, after attending the accelerated English class’ field trip, Sharon encourages Gene to excel in school.
Have you finished taking a shit?" The Operator said while rolling his eye. God bursts through the bathroom dimension and raised his thumb while saying, " Yes. It was one hell of a shitty moment."
Many people think that most American schools are satisfactory. That is far from what is actually happening. The harsh reality is that schools that are unsatisfactory do exist. In Jonathan Kozol’s “Fremont High School”, he points out the flaws of a high school located somewhere in Los Angeles. This helps shine light on differences in the quality of education in various areas of the country.
It is 7:56 PM, I step out the bus, hopping over a mysterious liquid on the sidewalk. Speed walking my way home on the torn up gravel sidewalk. I walk by a group of fellow residents of my neighborhood. Questions immediately surface to the front of my mind, with apprehension: “Did I stare for too long?” “Does my walk look too flamboyant?”
Mrs. Orsillo was a very solid lady, a stereotypical gym teacher, and not many people liked her ‘tough love’ style of teaching. I liked her though, because she wasn’t like the other PE
She was always so patient with everyone and I respected her for that. The simple act of being kind and polite instead of resorting to the power of the title Librarian made me respect her that much more. She made such an impact in my life for not only really getting me into reading for fun but also showed me what a good person is and should be. She is what I consider to be the one of the best teachers at Lakeland. She was such a positive impact on my educational experience and set a ton of good habits for middle school.
In her narrative essay “The Sanctuary of School,” Lynda Barry recounts a story from her childhood that illustrates her relationships at school vs her relationships at home. She tells us how public school was her sanctuary from her unstable home life. It was a stable environment that she depended on. She tells us this when she says ,"[F]or the next six hours I was going to enjoy a thoroughly secure, warm and stable world." Unlike at home, her school was a place she was noticed and cared about.
I walked through the double doors, and down the yellow tile hallway, all
After Mary is sent to work on the East Side of Langley with white computers, she needs to use the bathroom. Being in a new area, she does not know where the nearest colored bathroom is. Mary proceeds to ask the white women where her restroom is. “They responded to Mary with giggles. How would they know where to find her restroom?
“Hey man, there’s a full cup of water right next to
Though the trail was long, the view was breathtaking. Every day, the sun rises beneath the peak, and the inflamed glow spreads all across the mountain. I volunteer down the path of McCarthy Street. I thought by registering, I could work off service hours, but at the same time, have a little fun; however, every day is just a continuous routine of doing this and that: cleaning dishes, the bathroom, and mopping the ground that is usually covered in fine mud prints.