Thesis Statement: The library is a good place for relaxation at Limestone College. When I was my first day of classes at Limestone College, I went to do some homework, which Miss Stubblefield sent me about a descriptive essay, Moreover, I was so confused because in my room would be extremely weird to write this essay because I did not have a desk to study. However, I started thinking, and the first place to think was the famous ¨Library¨. Even though was my first day of classes, I was so embarrassed to go alone to the library, I thought that everyone was going to say, that I am a nerd. Before going to the library, I took a deep breath and I moved my legs as fast as I could and I went upstairs to the second floor to stud.
Ideas such as women working daily jobs or women in positions of power would have been completely laughed away when this story came out, which I believe goes to show just how far we have come as a society in breaking down those gender roles and norms. That being said, these gender expectations are what made the narrator ill in the first place. Over the course of The Yellow Wallpaper, the narrator’s mental health is in a consistent downward spiral. At the start of the story, she already has an illness called “Nervous Prostration” which she has as a result of these extreme expectations put on her simply because she is a woman. This condition is then worsened considerably by what was considered to be a cure for her illness at the time.
He had been in the hospital for weeks, and I didn’t see him once. I never had the chance to go see him because I had school, sports, and other activities that always kept getting in the way. I never thought that my opportunity would never come. I didn’t realize how bad he was. He was gone, and all I could do was cry.
There was a bad story about lipsticks as well. When I was a little kid, I though lipsticks were the most beautiful crayons in the world, the designs were all different, so my mother’s lipsticks got my interest. I used these pretty lipsticks to draw on the paper. When my mother needed to use lipsticks, she would know that I used her cosmetics again, so she would call my name loudly and started stamping her feet. The end of this story is that I stood on the corner of the room and cried alone.
“How’s school today, honey?” My mom asks. “Great, I guess,” I answer back. I went back to my room and start writing my homework. I write it slowly since I want my writing to be legible. I love school and everything, I can’t wait for tomorrow.
I went to class the following Monday forgetting we had the appointments. I started on my draft, but I had not finished editing. I rushed to the writing and literature building asking many people to direct me to Professor Wilson. I went in all sorts of directions to finally find the office. I walked in the dark office building, peaking in the already opened door.
I glared at him. He nodded and said, “I want to put your daughter on a different medication to prevent the attacks.” I’m sure he said a lot more, but I was tired of listening. I just wanted this tube out of the throat. I could smell something weird, but I think it was just the smell of hospitals. I could feel a discomfort in my chest, but I couldn’t tell what it was.
For the first half hour, Mrs. Phipps was quickly discussed today’s agenda: math subtraction, CNN, Civil War books, SEL activity, and art class. When the students came back from lunch, Mrs. Phipps wanted me to teach the two male students how to subtract three digit numbers with borrowing twice, or double zero (e.g. 900-150). I forgot to ask Mrs. Phipps what is the way she taught double borrowing, because the way I learned is not the same way the students in her classroom learn the process. Mrs. Phipps, took over the rest of the lesson, and I assisted Student J. when he wanted me to check his answers.