Fifth Grade Narrative

Senior year of high school after jam packing my schedule with advanced core classes. I decide take a class where I didn't come into class and immediately start counting down the minutes. That first day of senior year came, and I found

It was a bright hot summer day here in Little Pine First Nation, where the events took place. The chief and councillor’s had organized a fun filled day with family and friends spending it with one another. As the hot dreadful heat of the day goes by slowly the community is together as one enjoying the music blasted. The bass was pounding on my concession booth the good old country music that everyone likes. Kids are screaming, parents are cheering, cars and trucks are ramming, horses are stomping as they too are getting excited for the big day to start.

It's the last day of 5th grade. Today we’ll find out who our new teacher would be next year, and then it happened! Our teacher handed out our report cards and supply list and right on the bottom in big, bold letters, said the name. It was our 6th grade teacher, Mr. Persampire.

I remember the first day of Kindergarden very clearly; I walked into a facility covered with white walls, white tiling, and white children, but I looked a little different from the other children. I was the only Chinese American male in a predominantly white schooling created me to become an easy target for other children. Persecution, stereotypes, and identity was placed on me each day, and I resorted to my parents for comfort. I would cry into my mother’s arm and ask her “how do I make my eyes bigger?” or “Can you just buy me some blue eyes?”. My mother would cry along with me, but it wasn’t until after multiple attempts of begging that I understood the burden and pain I was putting on her heart, and I stopped asking. Each day when I was asked how my day went, I would lie and tell her how “amazing” it was, but I was truly hurting inside. This started my

One thing I will never forget is my fifth grade year, it was one of my best moments. My class made ROVs, had a real life job, owned fake money and owned our own stores. The fifth grade really was the opposite of ennui and had new things right around the corner. 5th grade was by far the best school year of my life. And it all started with ROVs.

It was second grade,I remember it like it was yesterday. The worst day of second grade. The day started out just fine with me eating breakfast,starting with oatmeal and a glass of milk. I rode the bus and my stomach started to rumble and I was feeling weird. It went away after a little while. When lunch rolled around things started to change.

The two and a half months of summer ended and I was ready to start 8th grade. I was excited and I found out I was in the same pod with my best friend. I felt confident as I walked into room B5 and greeted Mr. Gill. The year started great and I knew my way to all my classes. I studied a lot more in 8th grade. Nearly every test I studied. And by the end of the marking period I had all A’s and B’s. I brought my lunch from home more often and I participate more in class.

So, far sixth grade has been quite interesting for me. First, I will tell you about my personality. Next, I will tell you special learning traits I have. Last, I will tell you my goals for sixth grade. You are going to know a lot about me when you are done reading my essay.

One day in seventh grade me and my friend, Madison almost got into a fight. This girl named Jasmine, wanted to fight us. She wanted to fight us because we were mad at her. We were mad at her because she would always talk about us. One day we went into gym and everyone was coming up to me and saying,

It was only the third month into fifth grade when my mom had informed me that my little brother and I were traveling with her back to our relatives in Morocco. I was beyond angry due to the timing of this trip and how much school i’d miss. Being in fifth grade was a really big deal to me at the time and of course my mom didn’t understand that at all. I hated the thought of all my friends having fun without me so that night when I came back from school, I tried to convince my mom that we shouldn’t go.

It was a regular day at Prairie Ridge Elementary school. I was sitting, mind-numbingly, in my fourth-grade class, waiting for the school day to end so I could go home and accomplish whatever. All of a sudden, out of the blue, my teacher, answered the

It was my first year in the “big house” aka the high school. I was very nervous to start here with a new atmosphere. I was terrified of all the older students and the impenetrable classes plus the homework to add on top of that.

I was little walking with my mom to my first day of school excited and nervous at the same time not ready to leave my mom's side, no one was it's safer right next to her. Finally time came to say goodbye, and hello 13 years of school. Many things happened to me within those years, but let me tell you a time where things weren't so happy at school; wait it's never a happy at school...lol. Its all started in the 4th grade the

I was sitting in my classroom waiting for my number to get called. It's was fourth grade and we had just gotten back from the holidays and everyone was turning in their homework. My teacher was as mad as a bull with all the excuses. “My dog ate my homework” “I dropped it in the pool”. Then I remembered my story…my homework caught on fire! I thought back to that day when I was in first grade. I was as little as a mouse. I was at home doing my homework while my mom was cooking and put my homework by her purse which happens to be by the burners. My mom being the greatest cook ever turned on the wrong burner. Then the corner of my homework caught on fire! I screeched and my mom put it out. The next day my teacher asked me what happened to my homework.

It was in the first semester in 11th grade. The day started just like any other with my classmates slowly filing in to the classroom. Those students already in their seats were chatting when suddenly a silence spread through them as something caught their attention.