She was telling me to clean my room before I leave which was not less than a lecture for me in the early morning. I get frustrated and not only said her some rude words but was quite loud to her. I left the house in anger therefore I didn’t attend the first lecture. Meanwhile to spend some time I went to cafeteria. I was enjoying my cup of tea with my favorite
Too often I say things to a child that hurt him—that he could read if he just paid attention or simply tried harder. As a teacher I try hard to monitor the feelings of my students. Are they afraid of me? Are they scared to come to school? How are they handling the pressure that I am putting on them?
But she wasn’t home. She was out job hunting, and one of her cousins called her phone. I felt really scared, and like I was performing a huge act of betrayal against my mom. Which, in a way, I was. She arrived, and she was surprised to see a cop with me.
It was at this age I started to see a slight contrast in how my parents spoke to each other, and treated each other. I would always ask to myself, Why are Mommy and Daddy so angry at each other at this point? Is it something I did? Nothing had even happened yet, and I had just started to take the blame for why things are the way they are now between my parents, I took the strain in the family household as hatred towards me. The battling proceeded and I just felt more regrettable and more hopeless as the year went on.
After talking for a while my mom got off the phone and started talking to me, I remember one distinct thing she said to me. She said that she wished my grandparents were alive and that if they were alive we would not go back. I questioned what she meant, but then it came to me. She did not want to go back to our home and have to deal with my dad. My mom did not want to listen to my dad anymore, she was tired of him and want to be some where he was not.
I didn’t want to learn how to read and risk mispronouncing a word I should have known. This fear followed me all the way through high school and to be perfectly honest, I still hate speaking in front of the class. I would do what I had to and force myself to read the assignments given to me in English class. I remember feeling different like there was something wrong with me for not wanting to read. I felt imprudent for not excelling in reading and writing, watching my
This occurred when I was 5 years old. I did not know how reading, however my grand mother did read them for me. I was insatiable. I was always requesting someone to read me something. At the beginning everyone at home were enchanted with the idea but then it became a problem, they had responsibilities to attend to instead of being reading to me all the time, so my mother
no self-confidence issues and Not a care in the world. I wish I could rewind my life to my childhood just for that sense of innocence. From when I was a child til this present day I often ask myself what it would be like to be an only child. I wonder if my life would be any different or if I would have grown up differently. My mum is an only child, so I often ask her what it was like growing up.
When she said that I knew this situation wasn’t going to get any better only worse. I got my self together and went to get my brother from school. He kept asking what was wrong because I was so quiet and wanted to hold his hand. He likes “You never quiet when we around each other” I just kept saying nothing I’m just not feeling good. When we got home we went in my mother room and
And she smiled at me and wrapped me in a warm embrace. My mother believed I was going to do great things. She’d always tell me I’m her precious baby girl. But the one day I came home after school hoping to see her waiting for me, she wasn’t. I ran top to bottom in a frantic search for her.