Everyone says the first day of high school is the worst, but it's not, teachers are extra nice, no one hates you and you don't get in trouble. The school shows you a fairy tale, but as soon as you step into the gates on day two, all hell breaks loose. I'm standing in front of the gates deciding if I should enter the world of horror. I'm late, I have no time to stand here and contemplate about my existence. The school looks like a ghost town, except the occasional lost new kid. Everyone is in class right know, but I have no idea what class I'm suppose to be in. I rush to my small locker, shuffling through all the blank books not knowing which is for what class."Victoria!" yells my savour, Linh. "Hurry we're late for industrial!". "Industrial?" I question. We walk into the class, all eyes are staring at us. I'm nervous, I feel the shivers climbing up my back. I quickly scan the faces in the room, but all I get are blank stares. I shake the feeling off and sit in the closet seat. Oh, wait there's no seats, I'm standing in the …show more content…
It just kept getting worst and worst. I felt the pain all over my body, like a numbing biting feeling then I look at Linh and realise she is itchy everywhere too. It was that damn caterpillar!! I knew something fishy was going on when it fell. We rush to the teacher and ask if we would go to the health room. At this point the pain was unbearable and my stomach, neck and arm are swollen. We rush to the toilet, to see if the itchy caterpillar is still on us. We take off our tie off, as we panic in the small quiet stalls. We both prove clear of any bugs and leave. Seconds later I realise my tie is missing. I race back to find no sign of it. We're supposed to be in class, but instead I'm running around the whole school trying to find it. We discover it abandoned on the cold toilet
It didn’t sound like another Tootsie Pop. Swiftly, I felt something grasp me and then I heard the rip of the sheet. Luckily, I could see again. I was staring up at a Double Stick! I realized all my pain was now worth it. I started to say, “Hi,” but I was cut off as she licked me. That’s strange, I thought. Maybe it wasn’t rude for them to lick us but I found it rude. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my upper pop and my skin felt like it had been removed, I was mortified. Then I felt another lick, my vision started blurring. Lick, lick, bite, suck, lick. My vision went black and the pain started progressively getting worse. It felt as if millions of needles were getting stuck inside me. Then, it all
The previous week they had performed the spell successfully. After contacting Mordred, Merlin and Morgana had arranged to meet him and Aglain, the leader of the druid camp, in the woods near a small waterfall, halfway between Camelot and the grave of Gorlois. Morgana always went on her annual pilgrimage to her father's tomb at this time of the year, at the end of spring.
8th grade, 8th grade from the opening day to the signing of the yearbooks. This is the year of memories, goodbyes, and regrets. 8th grade and I’m still realizing that there are people in the world that would die to go to a school like this. A school where every body knows everyone’s name, respects everyone, and where violence and fighting are about as common as the Yankees missing the playoffs. When I’m done with my homework and go to bed, as the days of 8th grade wind down, summer will come and go, and I will find myself in one of those giant, scary places called high school.
Freshman year of high school careened past my very eyes before I had the maturity to fully comprehend the knowledge and life experience that was being imparted to my young impressionable intellect. The somewhat nebulous idea of high school loomed before me, acting as both a mirage and a reality. The atmosphere itself was cramped. Every detail about the school was small, building size, classrooms, the student population. Yet in a broader sense I was overwhelmed by the enormousness of the task that lay before me. I was more concerned with surviving the first year than with anything else.
The first memory I had of the Internet was during the second grade when I started playing games on the Disney Channel, Nickelodeon, and Cartoon Network. I heard about the websites from commercials that played during commercials. My parents weren’t very strict about my Internet use as long as it wasn’t while someone else was trying to talk on the home phone (90’s kid problems), but for some reason, I wasn’t really interested in exploring the web beyond playing games to avoid boredom.
I didn’t know what to expect of high school as I sauntered in the doors as an incoming high school freshman. In my first couple of weeks of school, I learned that it was basically like middle school, just a little stricter with different teachers and a different locker. I asked myself “how bad could it be?” Turns out,
College writing professors teach writing in a variety of ways around the United States and the world. The reason for this is that some professors are trying to teach their students a different aspect of writing an essay or a paper. Two views on this particular subject that I found interesting were Maxine Hairston’s essay "Diversity, Ideology, and Teaching Writing" and also Thomas Bray’s newspaper article "Memorial Day and Multiculturalism". These essays are two totally different views on how diversity and multiculturalism is to be applied in America or taught in the college writing classroom.
“Ready to go in?” Mr. Mansfield is grinning with amusement while Kinsey and our class mates start to walk to the door. The students are in awe as they walk through the lobby of Able Projects; which is a T-shirt screen printing shop.
As I frantically ran around the school looking for the 400 hall, I thought to myself, I need books from my locker. I went to my locker. I went to my locker and tried over and over again but my locker would not open. I soon realized that I had lost the schedule that had been printed off for me. All of my high school nightmares had come true.
For my first piece of original writing I intend to create a piece primarily written for entertainment however, I also want to portray an interest into historical and political persuasions. I aim to write this piece for an audience of teenagers to young adult who are aged from around fifteen to twenty-five and are male, I also wish to identify with those interested in political thrillers within this age range. The genre of which shall be a short fiction story consisting chiefly of narrative and written in the third person. I picture this piece as being one of a collection of short stories concerned with the political-thriller fiction sub-genre. Despite being a fiction text I aim to tie in real world non-fiction.
so I knew what we had to do or did I? I put Mr Toad on my shoulder and started to run to the old abandon NASA workstation. When we were halfway there the toad pissed on my shoulder so I had to stop in Walmart to get new sweater and T-shirt. Mr Toad and I walked into Walmart and I felt like I was forgetting something but I still continued searching for some clothes.
Teen Girl- Constant swaying the boat is always swaying it never stops. I miss my family I don’t know where I am and it smells. Men are constantly staring at me watching with their eyes as if they were undressing me. It causes shivers to go down my spine. The other night I woke up in a pool of sweat and started gagging uncontrollably. It’s because the food here is disgusting. I feel that Hope is the worse thing anyone could give to you. I heard whispering in other languages and then my own about how some groups had been formed and planned to take over the ship. There are so many whispers and strange voices I hear throughout the night. I hear screaming and coughing. One of my friend’s mom is on the ship. She is the captain’s favorite. If I am
No words could express the shock I was experiencing or the doctors as
Imagine it is one’s first day in high school. Standing in front befalls the entrance way to your new future, thinking of what lies ahead from the perspective of a middle school grad. One would perhaps have mixed emotions as to what to expect. Observing the new students around the corridors, it transpires as if they are dragging their feet to progress inside, for the reason that they are fresh from the blissful summer days; they are in exchange, yet again, to the reality of school homework, projects, reports and tests. Some have queries and doubts in their minds; what does one expect of themselves getting into a high school life such as this? “What remains in store for me, I wonder…” “This school year is going to be subsequently much tougher
“You know we are suppose to be in English class right now”, said the guy with the blond hair name Sunil.