Also having no recess will make middle schoolers feel even worse. To explain more middle schoolers friendships can be hurt because they can 't talk. One example of that is when I was in 5th grade one of my best friends and I got to talk a lot during recess but when they took that away in middle school I could not talk to him that much
After a week of school, I realized what people saw when I talked. Everyone though I didn’t know anything. People made fun of some word I did not pronounce correctly, I was scared to open my mouth or even asked a question in class, because I though the teachers would ask me to repeat it again. I cried almost every night. One day I finished my history essay and the teacher told me to wait after class,
I remerber the first time I learned how to read. That was the hardest things I’ve ever learned. Because, when I was in kindergarden, I wasn’t a smart boy. I just wanted to play and play so, when my teacher asked me to read, I couldn’t do that because I never review my lesson at home. After that, my teacher told my mother to take me to a private class and also have to pay more to my school.
It took a lot of work the week of tryouts every day after practice I would show her what we had learned that day. She would give me pointers on how my arms should be. Then tryout day came, I was so nervous at first but then I told myself I could do it so I went out there and did my best. We had to wait in a room so the judges could get all the scores in. When they were done they put a poster up that had people 's numbers that had made it.
Bulling in schools seems to be a touchy subject these days. It was as well when I was in high school. I can recall one brief time in school when I was bullied, because of what I had or did not have. There was this boy his name was Paul and he was my tormentor for that brief time. At that time growing up my family did not have much money so we could not afford nice things in particular new clothes.
During my last year of Middle School I was diagnosed with depression. This illness caused me to discourage my abilities and it deeply affected my social skills. At the same time I was also being bullied by other kids at school. I remember silently crying every day as I walked home from the bus stop. When I was first diagnosed, the doctors told me that isolating the problem was a good thing.
I even calculated exactly how much time I 'd spent at the school for my graduation speech. I was leaving people whom I had known for anywhere between five months and nine years. Saying goodbye was very hard. As I sat listening to the speeches of my fellow former-students, it dawned on me that there were people whom I knew very well in the room whom I would never see again. This was my first true realization of the reality of my departure.
Growing up I was the only student of Indian descent in my grade level until the 8th grade. It was due to this I was viciously bullied and assaulted growing up. The bullying negatively mentally and emotionally affected me and it was due to this bullying I had fallen into a bad group of "friends" during my sophomore year. These "friends" kept the bullies at bay and I started to accept them. One day they had convinced and pressured me to shoplift, or face being hurt, two packs of cards, which I unwisely did because I did not want to return to being bullied and feared being hurt.
Two months had gone by before I was able to fully return to school. Overwhelmed with all the material I had missed, I simply struggled in returning. Test, quizzes, and homework from various classes began to conquer my confidence in a successful year. I soon accepted the false thoughts that consumed my determination, I had given up on the year not even half way through it. My grades began to dropping, all the hard work I had put in, over my high school career, for the sake of my GPA didn 't matter to me anymore.
At the age of five years old, my parents enrolled me in an at-risk preschool program and I was taught how to speak and communicate with my peers in the classroom. I believed that was the only time I would experience speech therapy, but it was not. My second experience arose from truly unfortunate circumstances, and differed as I was 18 years of age, within a month of starting college at a prestigious university and intending to move out of my parent’s house. In the summer of 2011, I was diagnosed with viral meningitis after I complained of arduous migraines for a week.The infection left me wheelchair-bound and unable to speak. I knew what I wanted to say, yet all I was capable of producing was gurgled frustration.