There I was craving for ink, waiting for school to start. After that long summer vacation. My father dropped me off at school, I went straight for the Bibliotheca. When I entered the Bibliotheca I looked diligently for the biggest book, and hoped that nobody would see me try to drink the ink. Then, my best friend Bradley came towards my way. Then I closed the book and put the book back. “What are you doing with that book there, Bradley asked I thought you hated books?” “ I do, but I was just checking it out because I had nothing else to do.” I thought to myself, I can’t tell him the truth about my ink drinking problem. Then the bell rang and we went to class. As soon as I went into my reading class I could smell the scrumptious ink of the books in her class. When the …show more content…
So all day I sojourned away from people as far as I could because I didn’t want anybody to see the ink stain on my shirt, then all of a sudden, my best friends showed up and said,”why do you have that ink stain on that shirt.” I didn’t know what to do, so I said,“my pen busted and it got on my shirt.” They responded and said,“Oh, I understand, do you need a new shirt?” I told them I didn’t need one because I’ll probably spill something else on it today too. After the long day of school had completely ended, I decided to head to my father's bookstore because I was dehydrated. When I got there my father was still in there, so I started hammering on the door, so he would notice me, then he let me in. I was staring at the large inventory of books on the shelves to see which one looked the best. There I saw it the dictionary I thought that could be perfect. I grasped it in a cursory because I was parched all day. When I reached in my pocket for my straw, I kept on looking for it and then I finally succumbed. Then in an electrifying way I evoked that I had an extra straw hidden in one of the
One day everything changed. My new teacher told everyone to line up. I followed at the end of the line to a place right down the hallway where I discovered my lifeline for third grade. The library. I had always loved reading little books and getting read to ,but I had never gotten to check out a book in my own name. I was ecstatic. I found a book that interested me. “Junie B. Jones and the Stupid Smelly Bus.” I immediately checked it out and took it home I couldn’t wait to read it. Little did I know I would have trouble and it was a lot harder than I thought.
The unpolished floors and graffitied lockers with pictures of the Beatles glued to them indicated to me that no summer cleaning had been done at school, for what seemed like several years. As I walked, a neatly folded piece of paper, which I placed in my pocket earlier this morning, grazed my outer thigh was not letting me forget its purpose. My palms were sweaty and all I could think of was that on the first day of school, I had decided to tell my crush that I liked her. What a stupid decision. I decided to wash my hands and then put my plan into action. My walk across the hallway continued till I reached the guy’s bathrooms. Just as I was about to push the door, it opened and out ran a blonde and petite girl. My crush. Her face was surprised and her hazel eyes were
My earliest memories can be found at the hands of paperback novels. Books were my escape from the world around me. The thrill of being able to leave behind the world and it’s baggage and enter another that books provided captivated me, and left an impact on me. The emotion I experienced solely from taking a small step into another person’s story was unlike any I had felt before. I desperately wanted others to feel what I had felt, and love whatever I had become entranced by with the same passion as I did.
She waited until the next morning and went to prison with the special shoes and socks he wore. She begged them to let my father have these things. They only laughed at her! “He doesn’t need anything where he’s going, lady. Go home and take that with you.” Six weeks later the postman brought a letter. My father’s name was Martin and it said the following: “Martin Wolf, age 47, died of unknown causes.” Then they sent a little urn, where you put ashes when someone dies. My father had died! My mother wrote to me, “Our father is no longer with us. What am I going to do? How am I going to exist?”
No one could ever comprehend the hatred I had for reading- no one. Reading to me was just like being deathly ill, stuck inside, watching the neighbors play and know you couldn't join. On Monday morning I sat down in my teacher Mrs. Daniels class. I had a strange feeling reading would be an assignment coming up soon. I was dreading what I knew she was going to say next. “Class you will have 4 weeks to complete this book.” As I heard these words come out of her mouth I lowered myself into my seat like a turtle slowly going into its shell. I felt as if I was drowning and no one could save me until my life was over. Not only did I hate reading but I hated it even more when I was forced to. I thought in my head, “Why. Why make us read a dumb book that will do nothing but take away my social life.” Never did I know the book I was about to read would have such an impact
I woke up to the sound of my mom calling my name. ‘’Just five more minutes,’’ I said as I pulled the covers over my head. ‘’We’re going to Yosemite.’’ my mom said. My mom finally dragged me out of bed. I trudged into the bathroom and then brushed my teeth and got dressed. ‘’Well look who got up.’’ my grandma yelled. My sister ruffled my hair. ‘’Hey bro.’’ my sister said sitting down for breakfast. I went and joined her. “Do you want cereal or french toast?” asked my grandma. “I’ll have cereal please.” I said. We all ate breakfast and packed some backpacks with waters and got on the road by 8:30. My sister sang a song I didn’t recognize. “What song is that?” I asked. “Heart of gold” she replied. “Never heard of it” I said. We pulled up to the
When I was entering into High School, I tried to join as many clubs as I can, since I wanted not only to be superior in grades, but also extracurricular activities. So as usual, I joined Key Club. At first volunteering at the events was fun, but as I went to more events, it felt as if it was a chore. I did not feel any passion; it was rather tiresome.
Cense the cold times in January little Cassi had been helping me with books and being like my best friend and it was nice. I told her stuff that I hadn't told anyone. Then one day she told me that she had a real nice surprise for me. She also said that she found it in the woods but I didn’t mind. I was just so happy that Cassie was so sweet and got me something. As I watched Cassi step into the dry gully then to the bank I was getting tired of walking. “It ain’t far. You need to see this.” So I ran as fast as I could loosing my balance. As we started walking again I felt lost. “You sure it's this way, little Cassie?” “Not to much farther. There it is.” We walked into a dark little spot with vines every where in the
If one were to look at my varied reading habits, they would be struck by the diversity and over all unusualness of my mind’s library. I hardly remember the plot of the first book I read, but it was called Lonesome Dove. It wasn’t the actual first book I read, but I don’t really count the McGregor Readers from kindergarten. I read it in first grade because of my Grandmother’s fascination in the T.V. mini-series that was playing during the time. I wanted to be able to talk to her about it so I went to the public library that weekend and picked up a copy. Well, I actually didn’t pick it up, it was too heavy. It took me over two and a half months to read, but with the help of a dictionary and my grandma, I finally read it from cover to cover. I can’t really say that I understood it, because I don’t recall what it was about. But I do remember that it was quite an ordeal. Since then I have read many books. I enjoy fiction the best, especially those that are based on society, but have a small twist that leads to an interesting story. Some of the stories that I remember best from that early time in my life are Tales from Wayside Elementary School, Hatchet, The Godfather, and The Giver. I think that Hatchet, by Gary Paulsen, is the only book that I’ve read more than once. I liked the situation that Brian was put into, lost in the wilderness, with nothing more to fend for himself with than his mind and a trusty hatchet. The adversity he faces and his undying drive are what fascinated me most. Since that time my reading habits have grown into a different style. I have usually only read what was assigned to me during the school year because that was all I had time to do, but I have always strived to put forth extra effort. For example: last year for English 3 AP we had to read an excerpt from Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography. Although that we only had to read a small bit, I checked the entire book from the college library and read it all. Although the way that Franklin rambled on and on about his “Franklin Planner” was somewhat boring, the way he describe his life was pure poetry.
“Because I can’t figure out this stupid question or maybe just like teacher said I am just not smart enough to figure it out. I think I just can’t do it” I replied and threw my pen away. The pen dropped on the ground, rolled slowly and stopped beside my bed. Grandma sighed, walked down to the pen, and picked it up. It seemed that she already got used to my recent
At the start of the new year at Options I just couldn't get it right. I was off task because I was using a computer;therefore I had a somewhat slow start.
Life is made up of choices. We chose to go to school, choose to be brave and most importantly we choose to smile. I've never been the person to be open emotionally, when it comes to opening up I find the quickest way to change the subject. Middle school was like going through the Mean Girls movie, without the miraculous happy ending. I was lost, an outcast. Have you ever smiled for the wrong reason? Smiling has always been easier than explaining why I'm sad, sometimes all I could do was smile and hold back my tears. I had smiled for so long I didn't know if it was real or not, I thought if I smiled long enough I would forget about being sad, but it only worked for a little while. I came to a new school trying to start a new life by changing the girl people thought was annoying.
I was sitting in my third grade classroom. Everything was quiet. It was kind of dark, because we used the sunlight more than the room lights. I wasn’t paying too much attention, for I had already done the math work, when the teacher said “Okay, class. Everyone get out a piece of paper, and write down whatever you are thinking while writing.” I panicked. I had no idea how to write a good essay on what I was thinking. I honestly wanted to keep what I was thinking to myself. I started to write down words that were randomly popping in and out of my head. I would pause every now and then because I would’ve stopped thinking words, and pulled out pictures. I was terrified that what I was doing wasn’t enough. Then, I heard a dreadful sentence.
Aaqila is walking unusually slowly, as her mind is consumed with thoughts of her parents fighting wanting anything to distract her from her displeasing thoughts. Not looking where she was going she trips on a rectangle shaped cardboard, Aaqila gets her clothes stained with mud automatically picturing her mother criticizing her. She stands up carefully and picks up the cardboard, however on further inspection is bound by leather, cracked and dried from age as she ran her fingers on the leather. Aaqila opens the leather cover and the white as snow pages was the most prominent feature with black ink sprawled on it that represented letters lots and lots of it. She hid it under her direh knowing that if her mother saw it she will take it away from her forbidding her to ever find out what the combination of letters mean, or to feel the hard and old leather cover of the object.
Frost, the only thing I saw out my bedroom window, kept me focused on my homework. Temperatures dropping so rapidly, it dropped twenty- five degrees in an hour. The temperatures, frigid, plumbing to negative fifteen by the time it was over. Sunday nights are for the procrastinators to do their homework, surprisingly, one is me. Suddenly cellphone vibrations filled the room, it was from one of my classmates. The picture message downloaded for a few minutes, and it stated, “If you think this girl is a w****, s***, and a b**** forward this on.” I sat there in a moment of silence, mice scurrying up and down the walls. Being a junior high student, I really didn’t put much though into it. You don’t think for your future you think for the time now. The message referred to one of my ex girlfriends, so that made me forward it on with out any thought. Making that decision shocked me for what awaited me at school the next day.