Personal Narrative: Sarah Porter's Schoolhouse

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Sarah Porter’s first students were taught in a one-room schoolhouse on Mountain Road. Every afternoon at 5:00 p.m., her past meets my present, and today that building still stands as The Sarah Porter Schoolhouse, which serves as a daycare facility and preschool for faculty children. This building set the foundation for my high school, fulfilling and enforcing the values of unity, ethics and above all, education.

When I enter Schoolhouse, the toddlers peer curiously out the door from their foam letter mat, waiting impatiently for a new face to enter after hours of seeing the same ones. I am met with tiny running feet and arms that reach to the sky in their desire to be lifted. I do. I greet each kid with tight hugs and smiles and questions about their day. “What did you learn?” “Did you draw
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To me, it is a dream to be able to spend my afternoons with them. For me, it is more than caring for children. It is a time of the day to reflect on my own history, to expand on the parts of my past that fuel my passions, to accept an identity that paves the paths I walk every day. Sometimes they get frustrated. Being away from home and Mommy and Daddy all day drains them and they cry. This is the hardest part of my job. When they stare out the window with wide, hopeful eyes, I think back to the hardest nights I had as a kid.

Back then, I drowned out my parents’ arguing by increasing the TV’s volume so my younger brother and sister would keep their eyes and minds glued there. Back then, I shielded them from my father’s intoxicated hands and the hateful bullies that targeted their tiny statures. Back then and now, I wipe away tears, sniffling noses and fear with the hope of restoring happiness, comfort and tranquility. “Mommy is coming soon. She’s rushing here. She misses you so
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