School bus

Since 2003 there have been 1,353 deaths related to bus accidents. One of the problems are that there are no safety restraints, or seatbelts on our school buses.  We need the students of sylvania community schools to be safe. Seatbelts if used propertly would insure the safety for the students while traveling back and forth to school. The Sylvania Community should require  seatbelts to be installed on buses  to ensure students safety. My three reasons for Sylvania Community to have seatbelts

Elementary Lesson Planning Template Your name(s): Shannon Brasher & Felicia Lemons Grade level and school: 1st, Riverside Elementary Title of lesson/activity: What is a Habitat? Teaching date(s) and time(s): TBD Estimated time for lesson/activity: 1 hour. Overview and Context Lesson Overview: Using the book, The Magic School Bus Hops Home, by Patricia Relf, students will learn to identify the five aspects of all habitats that make them suitable for sustaining life. Sources/References: Lesson Plan:

heroism is shown through her deceiving characteristic. She first starts by winning over the terrorist named Miro. Kate achieves this by Miro having to keeping an eye on her. Miro introduces himself: “We are going to be together for a while on this bus. You should call me Miro and I should call you Kate” (Cormier 44). Miro has never introduced himself to one of his victims, but through Kate’s “American girl” charm, she gets him to do so. Miro thinks he has Kate where he wants her, but it is the total

6:30AM As the night winds to daytime, the sun’s rays met my eyes through my window. I finished sewing one of my latest creations. Not to brag, but the hand sewing job is one of the best I’ve done so far, matching thread color to the color of the poly fleece’s fabric color. What is this creation you might ask? Ha-ha, well it’s none other than a toy duck. A guy in his late teens making a toy duck, what’s the deal with that? Random things interest me, whether it’s designing something in Photoshop,

yellow school bus. They wore big fur jackets, boots, mittens, hats and had long double layered scarves wrapped around their small necks. The school bus speed down the one way street and pulled over. Stumbled out the bus for his morning cigarette while the children fought over the half upholstered wore out seats for the best place to sit. With a hoarse voice from years of cigarette smoking the driver screamed out, ' 'children stop running ' ', then slowly made his way back to the discolored bus and

Days all seem to go by in a blur. You abide by the same routine day after day. You get up, you do whatever is required from you, and then you go home and eat dinner. Maybe you sit down and relax with a good book, watch television, or even check your Facebook for what is probably the thirtieth time that day. No matter what it is, there is a good chance you see some harrowing news story that just breaks your heart, a story that you think is unfathomable. You dwell on it for a few moments, but then

tell. It was after school when the life changing call came. It was from there on that I started to slowly grow up. It’s 3:50 the end of school. I pack my things into my checkered purple and black bag and wait for my sister at the back of the school were the busses are parked. Our bus was either early or late. I look for our bus to see if it was at the end of the line just in case, but no sign yet. I walk to the front of the parked school busses and their it is. I walk on to the bus. It’s like walking

into my coffee, flashbacks ran through my head. The old, yellow school bus rocked back and forth over the worn, dirt path on its way to the orphanage that would be my home for the next week. The scolding Central American sun beat down on the bus as I began to question why I chose to spend my service requirement here. I tried to imagine the following week which would be internet-less, family-less, and aircondition-less. After a two-hour bus ride, my team of 20 people and I arrived at Orphanage Emmanuel

The bus jolts and splutters down the narrow street, sun beaming in from scratched windows only serves to further emphasise the box of sweat and BO that is the afternoon ride home. Small children sit up the front- staring out the window in wonder or chattering to their 'bus bestie', drawstring of their hats pulled tight on their chins. The 'big kids' or high schoolers sit in the back two rows, laughing at the expense of others, throwing insults and the occasional spit ball, such and such is a fat

day. The sun’s rays were bursting out, small wavy clouds rolled by. I looked over my shoulder and saw Anish running towards the school bus, panting and whaling his arms. “Hurry up before you miss the bus!” I said as he came in running like a sweaty bull. “Sorry, my brother was annoying me the entire way down here!” Anish replied. We both walked carefully into the school bus looking down at our feet, making sure we didn’t accidently trip on one of the tall steps. “Come on, get on! We don’t want to