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Effects homework has on students
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Effect of homework for students essay
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I gloomily start to do my endless mountain of homework. It takes me a few hours to finally finish everything. There is way too much homework for only being a month into school, I bitterly think.Right after we eat dinner, my parents are already leaving for the bus. I’m finally alone, just like every other night. With a lack or any other source of entertainment, I start watching the sky go darker when suddenly, I get an idea. It’s so fast, it’s almost like a switch goes off in my head. As soon as I think of this, I run up the stairs, race to my room, and get changed as quickly as possible. I put on my good sneakers, a pair of shorts, and I take off my sweatshirt. Even though the area I live isn’t the safest, I walk right out my front door and …show more content…
I started to become one of the first picked for all the indoor gym games. As for the outside games, they let me stay in the gym and do laps all class. I’ve also been running longer and harder, sometimes until almost midnight. It feels like forever by the time winter break arrives. For the week I have off, I decided to take a break from running.
The first day back from school is as boring as any day can get. At least I’ll be able to run tonight, I optimistically think as the day drones on. When I get home, I quickly do my homework in hopes I can get to running soon. After I complete all my homework, and we eat dinner, my parents leave, and I race to get changed. It feels way too long since I ran.
“Shoot”, I muttered to myself after clumsily knocking over a trashcan in the darkness. Why do these have to be so loud, I wonder, The sound of the metal clang against the cracked sidewalk suddenly filled me with a strange and uncontrollable anxiety. I felt like my doom was approaching, but why. I’ve been running this route so many times and never had any
“The house is settling,” my Italian carer would say as the lights dimmed and glowed in her ghostly presence… but this wasn’t all the house did. I slept in my room. Well, not really slept. Sleep was never something I did much of, especially early on. My worries at seven pm far outweighed my need for sleep. Awake. Forever awake. My father had left me. My mother…
So I slept great and I feel great. Its an away game at Saint Francis so that means it 's dress up day. I dress up nice so I look sharp, and go to school. School felt like an eternity my classes felt like they went from an hour to two hours long. I could not pay attention no matter how hard I tried. Finally lunch time comes around and that
AK is an ELL student in Mrs. Tobin’s fourth grade classroom. AK is nine years old. He was five years old and entering Kindergarten when his family moved to the United States of America from Macedonia. This means he’s been in the country for four years and he has received all of his formal schooling here in the United States. According to his teacher, AK’s parents are very involved in his education and they seem to be very intelligent, well-educated individuals. AK’s mother only speaks English to AK at home, but she has a very distinct accent, which does affect some of her pronunciation of English words. AK’s grandmother also live with him, and she only speaks Macedonian. This allows AK to maintain his native language, while still learning and using the English language at home. I believe his family has found a balance between the languages used in his home that will greatly benefit AK in the long run.
11:14 p.m.-I slowly ascend from my small wooden chair, and throw another blank sheet of paper on the already covered desk as I make my way to the door. Almost instantaneously I feel wiped of all energy and for a brief second that small bed, which I often complain of, looks homey and very welcoming. I shrug off the tiredness and sluggishly drag my feet behind me those few brief steps. Eyes blurry from weariness, I focus on a now bare area of my door which had previously been covered by a picture of something that was once funny or memorable, but now I can't seem to remember what it was. Either way, it's gone now and with pathetic intentions of finishing my homework I go to close the door. I take a peek down the hall just to assure myself one final time that there is nothing I would rather be doing and when there is nothing worth investigating, aside from a few laughs a couple rooms down, I continue to shut the door.
I was all lined up and ready to run. I couldn't be afraid. It was time for my hard work to pay off. I was going to give it my all, but would it be enough? The second the stopwatch started, I was off.
Stories are constructed by humans as a narrative to make sense of situations in everyday life. On the simplest level, stories are how we understand the world around us and learn how to grow. They are also how information is transported from one generation to the next. Conflict stories are powerful because they allow us to reconstruct our perceived reality and the events that occurred during the conflict. Doing so allows us to justify our actions and rationalize the steps we took during times of turbulence. They are also powerful because the way we mold our stories to ourselves and others can impact our perception of the situation. The story we choose to believe can shape whether we see ourselves as the hero or the villian in the story. Stories
My parents stayed in a hotel so I didn’t hear anything from them. I wanted to know what happened, but I would have to wait. The day seemed to take forever, were all days as long as this one? I checked the gray army clock in our classroom closely, waiting and waiting. When school finally ended, I was glad to see that my mom picked me up, but there wasn’t a moment to spare.
The darkness loomed above me, the few remaining stars twinkling sporatically, as if the emptiness was snuffing them out. I waved goodbye to my friends at the comic store, my usual stop on Thursday nights. I grabbed my bike and began pedaling, pushing myself up for the arduous journey home. After a short time, I entered the maze-like development aptly named "Fireside. " I rode my bike at a carefree pace, after all I had taken this route at least once a week.
The morning goes by drearily. As Mama stays in her room to do some work, Daitane and I are sneaking around, silently packing things we might need into backpacks. Neither of us feel like attending school. There's no point anyways.
Once Alina got to school, she decided that she needed some time to ponder. She wandered around the school as if she didn’t have any spirit. “RING,” the school bell rang. Although Alina was a diligent student, she didn’t want to listen to anyone or anything right this moment. She headed towards the cafeteria and sat down at a solitary chair in the corner.
I scarcely snoozed at all, the day before; incidentally, I felt insecure regarding the fact of what the unfamiliar tomorrow may bring and that was rather unnerving. After awakening from a practically restless slumber, I had a hefty breakfast expecting that by the conclusion of the day, all I wanted to do is go back home and sleep. Finally, after it was over, my dad gladly drove me to school; there, stood the place where I would spend my next four years of my life.
The eve of summer vacation was unexceptional. I spent the day the way I would any other Thursday; I had a class early in the afternoon, spent time with my classmates afterwards, and eventually said goodbye for the last time. It was bittersweet as I walked out the door and crossed the parking lot to my truck, my younger sister trailing behind. The door groaned as I pulled it open, tossing my enormous backpack carelessly into the tiny space behind the driver’s seat with a heavy thud.
The sun began to rise as I stepped onto a straight, wide road that needed repaving. I wasn't really sure why I was walking on it or where I was going. All I knew was I had gotten up this morning and decided to go for a run. My usual morning run started out normally. I was jamming out to my playlist as thoughts raced through my mind about how the day would play out, and then I felt this urge to change the direction I was going.
At the beginning of the semester, I knew that I was going to be out of shape. I did play a spring sport that helped me stay in shape for a while, but then I was on my own. I’ve biked and ran during the summer, and that’s something I enjoy doing. I enjoy getting physical and workingout all by myself out of school. The point is, it doesn’t matter where you are in life,
Grabbing my set of keys to the house from my pocket, I unlock the door and step inside. The house is dark, which tells me that Mom hasn't returned from work yet. She'll probably be at work until at least five, and its four-thirty now. Flicking on the light, I throw my keys on the table and grab a quick snack from the cupboard. While I munch on the granola bar, I think about the day's events.