My First Day At School Essay

1.Contact with members of the lower castes always reminded him painfully of this physical inadequacy

The first year, the time to prove myself had arrived. Classes, rooms, teachers, and some students were unfamiliar. Eventually, minutes melted into hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. It didn’t take long before my schedule was routine, something of second nature. Humor and happiness were found in the form of my advisory family, where school was transformed into something more than going through the same motions of day to day activity. By the closing point of sixth grade, I was having a hard time letting go of what I’d adapted to. “What’s wrong?” my dad asked when I was getting into the car after being picked up early on the last day. I explained how distressed I was that my first year of middle school exceeded my expectations, and that it had to come to an end. Although his outlook viewed my reason for sorrow as trivial, I didn’t.

From the moment I walked into the doors of Gertrude Fellow’s Elementary School as a five-year-old kindergarten student, I fell in love. I went into each day excited and ready to learn. This passion for school continued throughout my high school and college years. It is part of what drives my love for education. School was always an environment to be myself, explore new things, and to even make a few mistakes. As a young child, I thought everybody felt the same way. I was confused when peers said they hated coming to class, or couldn’t wait to go home. I couldn’t understand why anyone would hate something I loved so much.

Wilkerson. She was such a fun teacher. She was obsessed with Dr. Seuss and would always show us videos from School House Rock. I still remember the lyrics to those songs. I remember getting some kid in trouble for something I did, that year. When we were first introduced to subtracting with a bigger number on the bottom in the ones place, better barrow a bundle, the teacher gave us a worksheet without telling us anything about the topic just too see if we knew it. I was so excited because I thought I was going to be the smartest kid in the class and get all the problems on the worksheet right, but in the end I didn’t do it right at all and there was only one kid who did it right, and he’s sitting next to me as I’m typing

My early education has been shaped by a very difficult challenge, but also many positive circumstances have formed my way of learning. I was home schooled throughout my grade school years, but due to financial and family circumstances throughout that period; I was lacking in my education. Throughout, my school years I always felt dumb, and that I could not connect with all my friends who went to “normal” school. Also, I feared how my future would turn out. “Would I be able to go to college? Could I get a decent job? What would happen to me?” This trial of education has been one of the most formative events

In the 4th grade I went to a school called Noble Academy it was a good school but I had a problem with a teacher there. He would always pick on me and write me referrals and call my parents about things that wasn’t really that serious, one time he called my mom because I didn’t have a pencil so he wanted to meet with my mom almost every other day about nothing. Eventually my mom and dad got fed up and took me out of that school I was happy but sad at the same time, I was happy because I was leaving that antagonising teacher but I was sad because I was gonna miss my friends and the teachers I actually liked. So my new school was Glenbrook elementary school I started going there

I wish I could say that my childhood was halcyon, but it filled with challenges. I was born and raised in a medically deserted community had only one part-time physician. Even today, the residents in my hometown face difficulty in search of quality medical treatment. In addition to the scant amount of medical attention given, this place also faced with educational difficulty. I have no memory of my father succumbed to liver cancer when I was only two. My mom never told me whether they went to school or not. Regardless of her educational background, she considered education is prior in life. Therefore, she did the best she could to ensure that I got a quality education. However, I had to walk 10 miles to school and it was harsh for me. Moreover, I remember the classroom activity was also hard, having a toll and a grip-comfortable pencil was not an option, and students shared few antiquated school supplies.

Learning that school is something to be glad about was one aspect I will never forget. School helps spark and form the character of discovery in one’s mind. To find problems in the world’s society and attempt to fix them so future generations will not be forced to make that same mistake. Other than social media, education is the most powerful tool to train an adolescent’s mind. Coming from the Nobleboro Central School I have this story. The first trimester was a long one, I had never presented a project before and didn’t know the first thing about talking out loud in front of a class. Also, my English was considerably bad with papers handed in, in rough draft form. My English is still a little rusty, although my past teachers have guided me past the few trimesters preparing me for an average High School paper. Concludingly, the first trimester of public school was a real learning experience with mostly a C average in most of my classes which left room for improvement. The second trimester I had an understanding of school and was trying more and more on improving how I could understand teachers. This time of education at public school was the aha moment wherein I could explore the true reasons of presentations, tests and open book exams. The third and final trimester was a matter of consistency in grades. Because of this, most of my trimester average grades were in the B+/A range. Thankfully, because of this I had finished the 8th grade with most subjects having a yearly average of a

It was August and school was just around the corner. I was going to be a freshman that year. It wouldn’t be too bad if I hadn’t just moved to the west side of Cleveland. Once again, I was going to be a new kid, but I guess we all were because we were freshmen. Later I found out that the school I would be attending, John Marshall High School, was a 9th grade academy. They separated us from the upperclassmen because the High School wasn’t big enough. Construction workers were in the process of building the new high school that year, so that grades 9-12 could be together. We were placed in an old middle school, it sucked! I wanted the real high school experience, but in this situation, I still felt like a child.

At the start of the third grade things started to go downhill and I started to have not many good teachers. Then things with my classmates started not to go well. Some kids weren’t nice to me and made fun of me for my skin color and my middle name. Sometimes they’d steal my stuff from me like my school supplies or my lunch. When I came home from school everyday, I would be in a bad mood. There were many things going on instead of trying to learn. Everyday I came home and my mom or dad taught me how to do my math and language arts homework. I learned from that experience that even with other things going on you still have to do your best and not let others drag you down with them. Fifth grade was my last year at the school and I was ready to

I loved going to school. But when I started third grade all of that changed. As I came home one afternoon I walk into an awkwardly silent room. My mom sat there on the couch. She patted the couch and told me to sit down. After I sat down she explained to me that my teacher had called and informed her that I would need to be tutored because I just wasn't learning as fast as the other kids in my class. I was devastated. Every Tuesday and Thursday I would stay after school in a dull, plain room with another teacher. On that Tuesday I watched out the window as all my friends were able to go into the perfect weather and start their bus ride home. My tutor ,who was a fourth grade teacher at my school, walked in with joy, excitement and eagerness. Every Tuesday and Thursday she’d help me improve. In just a short

I spent three years crying everyday and begging my Mom to let me stay home. My mom was sad because I was always upset. My parents worked so hard to make it better and then my mom decided to make a change. I heard my parents talking about public school and I was so excited I thought it was the answer to my problems. I headed off to Keller Harvel with a new attitude and was ready to feel “normal.” That’s when it all began..

This school was so much smaller than I was used to. My parents walked me into my new first grade classroom introducing me to my new teacher, Mrs. Lovelace. At first she seemed nice, but I later came to realize that I did not care for her, and this made school miserable for me. She just wasn’t the same teacher I had at Apple Glen. I would come home crying because I missed my old school and I wanted to go back. I didn’t understand how I could go from having the best teacher in one school to having one of the meanest in the other. I wanted to move back to Bentonville, but that wasn’t an

The first day of school is nerve-wracking for most people, for me, the first day was especially terrifying. The first day of a college class is probably more crazy than all others. My mom and younger sister, Michaela, were busy taking pictures as I attempted to run out of the door. After being homeschooled for the last six years, I knew it would be a much different experience. I had been in my room alone doing school; I was content with where I was. The morning of the first day of class, I was so busy that I didn’t have time to be nervous. However, as I ran out the door, my heart rate elevated to a pace of 138 bpm. I felt older, nervous, excited, and anxious as I left for Pellissippi. Although it had been six years since I had been in a classroom, I realized that all of my worry was for nothing once I walked into Ms. Brown’s class.

It was a good day, I stood in front of the door so I could be picked up by my mom. There was a kid, James, he was much taller than me at the time, most people were taller than me, but I didn’t mind. James came down the hallway and was staring straight at me with a devilish look in his eyes and a smirk on his face. I was holding a couple of picture books that we had to bring that day, I really enjoyed reading them. He was approaching me, I didn’t think anything of it, all I was doing was minding my own business. He stood in front of me with his back straight and he was staring into me, like he was establishing dominance, like a lion in the jungle. In one quick motion he snatched all of my picture books straight out of my hands, I stood there speechless, I hated confrontation. Then he held those books over me to the point where I couldn't reach them. I jumped and jumped but I couldn’t reach those books, I repeatedly said “Give them back!” and he responded with “Just take them then”, he knew I couldn’t.. By then a teacher saw us and reclaimed my books from James, but I was already in tears. I spent the rest of the day sobbing and trying to understand how someone could be so heartless.