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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the time I ripped my pants in the 2nd grade.
My class, 2C, had just completed our hour of reflection in the atrium and we were rewarded with a few blissful minutes of leisure on the luxurious playground of Our Lady of the Assumption Catholic School. We traded our self-induced indolence for carefree play and merrymaking. As I frolicked around with my comrades I paused for an ephemeral glance at my kingdom. I owned the playground and ruled with a heavy hand. My dominion encompassed the territory as far as the eye could see which, to my keen eyes, ended at the corner of Shamrock Drive and North Sharon Amity Road.
During my solemn reflection on the implications of queenship I saw my
teacher beckon to my class while she exclaimed, “Playtime is over! It’s time to come in!” My heart sank into a bottomless pit of despair as I considered the work in store for me once I crossed the threshold of the school. I had to come up with an idea to prolong my playtime. I consulted my friends about a possible plan of action but our deliberation was quickly interrupted by my teacher who threatened, “If you don’t come in now, I will send you all to speak with Mrs. Leva.” Mrs. Leva was our principal at the time and everyone was afraid of her, so we sprinted to the door.
Everything was great, every day was the same except that particular day when your life
It was my senior year of high school, I was sixteen, getting ready to turn seventeen. It was my senior year of high school. I was not your typical girl wearing makeup everyday and worrying about getting dolled up for school. I did not play sports. Don’t get me wrong, I would get all dolled up if I had something special to do like go to a school dance. I had a part time job at Olive garden because my parents motto was “if you do not play a sport you need to work!” My mom used to say to me “you know Alana back in my time I was not able to work so you are very lucky you're able to work.
8th ed. of the book. Boston: Wadsworth, 2013. 505 - 16. Print.
Valued educators have become enforcers of colonial ways; some don’t even know that they portray that function, the content within textbooks have become common knowledge as the truth and the truth in turn must be spoken o...
6th grade was not all that bad. That is before the incident however. Going to school was fun for the most part, the classes were difficult, friends were plenteous, and the food was good. Life at Lancaster Country Day School was swell, again, before the incident. Now, said issue somewhat killed my image at the school and saved it at the same time; it also made me question others. Were my friends really my friends? Or did they use me to as a sick and twisted way to formulate drama? I had a friend. I had many friends really, I was friends with the whole 50 people in my grade. But this friend, this friend was different. Her name Mady Gosselin. Yes, the Mady Gosselin from Kate Plus 8. We had been close, I talked to her almost every day. However,
It seems as if the actions of the history teacher have backfired. While one expects the students to play idyllically together, just the opposite is true. They torment the other children, “messing up their hair and breaking their glasses” (Collins 17). It is ironic that the teacher wants to protect his students’ innocence because they are the bullies of the school, while the teacher is the one who is sheltered. By lying to his students, downplaying tragic events and creating an unrealistic rosy picture of the world, the teacher has created an ironic situation. The students have become opposite of what he was trying to accomplish, rotten human beings who torture the other children because they have not learned right from wrong and what the consequences are. Collins’ message in “The History Teacher,” of those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, comes through loud and
2nd ed. of the book. Ed. Ann Charters and Samuel Charters. Boston: Bedford, 2001.
The discussion of children and school also gives well meaning of an organized and well-balanced village the people have put together, one the average parent would want their children raised in. “They tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play, and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands (p.445).” The thought of children playing also illustrates of a positive outlook for the rest of the story, a sense of happiness.
On October 29th Saturday, I participated in a volunteer opportunity with the democratic campaign. The office had more than 20 people, some of them were making phone calls. I received a package with a map, a list of people’s name, address, and other basic information about the person. My duty was knocking those people’s doors and ask them “who are you going to vote?” “Do you have any things that you want to say about the society?” I do not have a car so they assigned me to the place which is located in walking distance from Beloit College. A married couple who were at the office offered me a ride to Campus. Both of them are in their 50’s. They told me that they have a friend who is now teaching at a university in Tokyo, Japan. The lady also had been to Japan in 1980 as a student. Her husband did not talk much.
I’ve been very interested in attending Brebeuf Jesuit for about a year now. I was also eager to shadow the school and see my possible feature. When i shadowed Brebeuf I really loved how the scheduling worked and how friendly everyone was to make me feel welcomed, Including the school times. Brebeuf Jesuit high school is a good fit for me because my faith, my academic experience, and my extracurricular interests.
From sixth grade to sophomore year, I attended Pinecrest institute, a catholic private school. Can you predict where this is going? After a few years I grew used to the persona I’d created for myself, I was on top of the social food chain with my friends, in this way, I was in power. Nevertheless, all who rise must fall to learn to lead with compassion in their awareness.
During fourth and fifth grade, I was among the group of kids that were at the top of the school. All of the younger children looked up to us and copied the actions that they saw us doing. These we the last years for the fun and games for me. My work would later get more difficult since I made the transition from easy work to the more difficult. These were the last years that we had recess after lunch. We would no longer have one teacher teaching us every subject. For all of elementary school I was at Upson which is now known as Shoreview Elementary. I think that every year someone looked out for me because I was always blessed enough to have the good teachers for each particular grade. These teachers always saw potential in me and from a young age they always told me that they knew that I would do great
My life got stressful on first day of second grade. I remember getting off the bus, eager to tell my parents all about what it felt like to be in second grade. As I walked in the door, I could feel that something was wrong. It was something in the air, a depressing mood. Instead of being greeted by a house of warm response, it was silent. I shouted for my parents and searched around, finally finding them in their bedroom.
On April 1, 2010, I was welcomed into Mrs. Smith’s all day kindergarten class at the O’Dea Core Knowledge Elementary School in Fort Collins Colorado to observe and note the classroom conditions, interactions of the children among themselves, the teachers or other authority figures and the manner in which learning takes place.