The Year that Changed My Perspective of School
It all started a week before the new school year. The year of the sneezing, coughing and nonstop runny nose was preparing its over throw of summer. I wasn't too excited about it. In fact I dreaded it. Advertisements came flying through the mail. Every one of them had printed boldly "Back To School" and "Back to School" again. It made me sick to my stomach. I threw every ad in the garbage. I never knew it but this school year was to change my view of school and the people in it completely.
The first hour of school was a disaster. Mainly because of Mrs. Laurel my new history teacher. At the sound of the bell she carried a pile (2ft. high it seemed) of papers from her desk to all the students. "Welcome to the wonderful world of history," she announced, "My name is Mrs. Laurel and these here few papers are the requirements and rules of my class." She passed out what amounted to be forty papers for each student. Then she smiled and said, "We will start with you." She pointed directly at me. "You start reading for us and then we'll circle all around the room so everyone can get their chance." My face flushed red, my heart pounded through my chest. I was sitting way in the back but some how or another she picked me. She noticed me. This was the worst first day of school in my life.
Well, I read. I read and I read and I read. I read the whole entire thirty minutes because Mrs. Laurel never stopped me and I was too afraid to stop. So I jumbled and mumbled over words. My face turned oven red and my voice sounded hoarser and hoarser. Some of the students began to giggle. I felt terrible. It was the bell that saved me. "Young lady!" Mrs. Laurel called to me as the class shuffled out the door. "You will start on the 'Student Expectations' paragraph tomorrow okay!"
"Yes Mrs. Laurel," I said quietly. Then I ran quickly out the door.
The next morning I didn't go to class. I hid in the bathroom stall.
Stowe Debate: Rhetorical Strategies in Uncle Tom's Cabin. Eds. Mason I. Lowance, Jr., Ellen Westbrook, and R. C. Prospo. University of Massachusetts Press: Amherst, 1994.
Four years of my life drained away at this place called Troy High School. After this year I will be walking away from Troy, worn and torn from the hours of anticipation for grades to be posted, the next weekend to arrive, the answer to whether that special someone will say yes to the next dance, or the unbearable wait for that painstaking bell to ring. Troy is a place of education, a very good one at that, with its Blue Ribbon Award and national recognition, you’d think I would be walking away with knowledge that will serve me well for decades to come, but no. I could have learned the same things I learned at Troy anywhere, it is the insight I picked up that will take me far. “What insight?” you ask. Its priceless wisdom really, it’s a shame too many people overlook it or take it for granted. You see there are some basic classes every Troy student takes, that in the long run prove to be very useful beyond their educational platforms. Take the Troy Tech classes, they offer more than just facts about 1s and 0s and codes of programming. Looking deeper into what is learned in these classes one can pick up the Zen like teachings. Bases, the fact that a ‘10’ can be any number, depending on its base, touches upon the idea how in the real world people seem to be the utmost characters of greatness but the more you get to know them, and their base, they can turn to be someone better or more often then not, something worse than what you first anticipated. In the course of programming we learn that there are several ways to solving a problem, just some are shorter than others and some easier to find the bugs, it depends on the commands you use. Such as how in life when using the right commands, or truths, will get you far, while some just tak...
I walked in and my stomach made a flip-flop like riding “The Scream” at Six Flags. Everyone was staring at me! With their curios eyes and anxious to know who I was. I froze like ice and felt the heat rise through my face. My parents talked to my teacher, Ms.Piansky. Then my mom whispered “It’s ti...
The novel Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life, by James Patterson follows a troublemaker named Rafe Kachadorian. When he gets to school although for him it’s more like prison and so far he’s not very fond of his new school. Rafe only has one friend, Leo but his full name is Leonardo the Silent. The only person Leo speaks to is Rafe because Leo is imjainary. Rafe’s first day of school is a difficult day a bully named Miller who chose for his victim of the year. However, it’s there was some good when he found a cute a girl who's name is Jeanne.
I have been patiently waiting for my first day of school and it's finally here. I walk through the doors and see all of the kids. All with their own incongruities. Some kids are big, some are small, some are clean, and some are dirty. I finally get to my classroom and my teacher, Miss Caroline Fisher, looks at me with a stern look. I could tell then I was excited to be in school for nothing, but I knew that when she found out how smart I am she'd like me. As class went on I found out that I was wrong.
It is extremely difficult for the modern reader to understand and appreciate Uncle Tom’s Cabin because Harriet Beecher Stowe was writing for an audience very different from us. We don’t share the cultural values and myths of Stowe’s time, so her novel doesn’t affect us the way it affected its original readers. For this reason, Uncle Tom’s Cabin has been heavily scrutinized by the modern critic. However, the aspects of the novel that are criticized now are the same aspects that held so much appeal for its original audience.
So here you are you are on the last day of school, eager to be off for almost 12 weeks but then you remember the school changed and now you only have a 5 week break. I know it feels sort of a disappointment right? That is how many kids across the U.S feel as they are talking to their buddies about what they could do over a 12 week break. This is only one of the many things that are wrong with year round school, and why it should be stopped. Students should not attend year round school for educational, and vocational and stress relieving reasons.
As this school year went on, I can honestly say my feeling towards school changed drastically. Yes it is still hard and yes some classes can be boring but
Jim Crow began as a black character in musical shows that evolved into cruel laws. “Jim Crow was more than a series of rigid anti-black laws. It was a way of life. Under Jim Crow, African Americans were relegated to the status of second class citizens” (“The Origins of Jim Crow”). Jim Crow laws were harsh and degrading to the African Americans. Jim
My senior year is very important and that is why I must use it efficiently. There are many things I hope to accomplish during my senior year. Graduation is my top priority because if I do not graduate my future will be in jeopardy. Clubs and extra activities are very important for college acceptance. I hope to get certified in the areas in which I have been training for. Getting into college so that I can be successful is the main goal in my life is. I hope to get accepted to a college or university by the end of my senior year. My schedule will be busy but I will
Stowe, Harriet B, and Ann Douglas. Uncle Tom's Cabin: Or, Life Among the Lowly. New York, N.Y:
“So this is the little lady who made this big war.” Abraham Lincoln’s legendary comment upon meeting Harriet Beecher Stowe demonstrates the significant place her novel, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, holds in American history. Published in book form in 1852, the novel quickly became a national bestseller and stirred up strong emotions in both the North and South. The context in which Uncle Tom’s Cabin was written, therefore, is just as significant as the actual content. Among other things, Stowe’s publication of her novel was stimulated by the increasing tensions among the nation’s citizens and by her fervent belief that slavery was brutally immoral.
It seemed like a normal day when I entered Mrs. A’s AP Language and Composition class, but little did I know that she was going to assign a very important project that was going to take forever. I took my seat and wrote down what was on the board. Then I sat patiently and waited for Mrs. A to come explain what we were doing today. When the tardy bell rang, Mrs. A glided into the room and gave us all a stack of papers. She then proceeded to discuss our upcoming assignment, a memoir. As she explained the very important assignment, I wondered whom I would write about. No one really came to mind to write about and I thought for sure I would never be able to get this thing done on time. I finally decided that I would write in on my mother, Kari Jenson. I knew I would probably put the project off until the very end and do it the weekend before even though it would get on my mom’s nerves. Putting work off was just how I did everything, it worked for me. When I arrived home from school that day, I told mom about the project. I told her I would most likely write it about her and she was overjoyed.
Seven thirty in the morning, confused, and gazing at my first experience of college I had no idea what this semester would have in store for me. Within the second story of Vawter Hall about fifty to a hundred students are crowding the hall awaiting the arrival of their professors. I was no different; unlike these other chatty energetic individuals I was alone, and desperate to get this first day over with. At eight o’clock bells chime through the building and the students have now dwindled down to those who I will later come to know as classmates and those few who had overslept on the first day. Eight fifteen, the little crowd starts to stir; the professor has still yet to arrive. Around eight twenty a woman with short cut hair arrives in a hurried manner, clearly upset to have arrived after her students. However, to her surprise, and those of her students, the door was
Bonnie the secretary introduced me to my new teacher. As Mrs. Bonnie was leaving the room, my new teacher Mrs. Evaheart introduced me to the class. As I stared at the class I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. I wanted to go back to my old school where I had friends, knew almost everyone, a place where I didn’t feel lonesome, a place anywhere but here. As I saw each and every one of my new classmates faces the utter dread that I felt slowly began to fade as I saw a familiar face. Seeing one of my former friends give me a renewed hope that maybe being in this school won’t be so bad after