Body Odour Creative Writing

“ You’re a- how shall I put it? A thorn in several teachers sides. Your presence disturbs their instruction.”. (211)

The class teacher should be referred to straightaway in the instance of a pupil swearing at other pupils or at members of staff; or if pupils have been fighting (physically) with one another.

“Holy shit!” says one of the LT’s assistants as he notices from a distance two of the medics carrying a body out on a stretcher. “What in God’s name is that stench?!!!” He’s looking in the direction of the large single-story building just off to his right.

Apparently, all high schoolers can be consumed with work, studies, and socialization events. We passed through the crowds of students as we made our way to the lunch hall, a good meal would be a pleasant solution to wake up the sluggish soul. My friend was in the middle of his conversation and I was a zombie with my eyes attracted to the lunch line, when they strayed away to movement, folders and sheets of papers compelled to gravity flew out when a girl lost her grip on her binder. My first and only reaction was to leave, I interrupted my friend with a soft groggy mutter that I was going to help her, so without his response, I

I was hopeful that the day would be a success. It was the same routine in a new environment. Fortunately, my first day at Larned High School started like every first day before. The principal, Mr. Langdon, gathered all the students and welcomed us into a new school year. His speech filled the room with excitement and optimism for the new year. After the ground rules were set we set forth for our first class. I would never have realized the challenges I would face in Biology. My instructor, Miss Moser, started off the year with a stern no-nonsense policy. Fear swept over the room. For the first two weeks, I did not dare speak, and I did not wish to cause any trouble. As long as I did not say anything I could not be wrong. To start the class, we began reviewing what the class should already know. It was difficult to figure out what I needed to know because she had such high expectations for the class. After the longest hour of my life, the class was finally over. I bolted

It was my first class, of my first day, of my first year at Sartell High School. As a freshman, everything about high school is nerve wracking. Simply just looking at an upper classman would send chills throughout your spine. Basically, school was prison at the time (metaphor). Every freshman would walk into their classes, crossing their fingers, and wishing to see one of their friend’s vibrant faces. I clearly remember that day; I trudged through the halls with some of my very best friends, and we tried to find our first classes. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies swam up my nose (personification); I then realized that I must be close to my first class, foods and nutrition. Standing outside the room, I look in and notice the room was white and vacant (Participial Phrase). My stomach dropped to the floor; I knew nobody in this class. I quickly glanced around the bare room, looking for a familiar face. The only other girl in my grade was absolutely the last person I would want to share this class with. She looked like somebody I would not normally want to associate with, conceited and stuck up. With rapid, quiet feet, I walked into the classroom, and I heard the rustling of papers (Prepositional Phrase). This could only mean one thing, a seating chart. I scurried through the chart and found my spot. Of course, I sat next to her, the cruelest girl in school,

This time the room was covered in flames burning, yet unburnt.The room smelt of Eolas’ horrid breath. The rotten stench of eggs filled the courtroom enveloping it and perfusing into every crevasse. This sulfuric fume choked Bernard Lichtträger in his dream. Eventually, Lichtträger awoke in a stark white hospital bed. The air reeked of antiseptic and formaldehyde. Justice Flagorneur and The president stood over Lichtträger. Eolas’ breath still faintly tainted the air.

I walk in and a pungent, musty odor hits me in the face like a truck. It looks like a tornado has made its way through here, for there are clothes strewn everywhere. The thickness of the air from the heat off the sun-beaten backs of the athletes covers the room. The constant groaning of the archaic washing machine rings in my ears. The taste of Clorox sits on my lips, and it’s accompanied with the sweat rolling down my

My name was called eighth and my hands trembled as I walked into the cramped room. The floor and walls were covered in light blue tile and there was a slight scent of filth and dirt, but it was concealed by the overwhelming smell of bleach. Standing in front of me was an average looking petite woman with greying brown hair in a lab coat and two hairy, burly men in light blue doctor’s scrubs, they all looked menacing, which did not help with my concerns and in that moment I knew my fears were justified.

“You cut you’re beautiful, long hair after your return. Mom thought you were in protesting the war, but I saw you two. I knew the real reason you cut the longest blond braid in the neighborhood.”

I leap, burning my palms on the concrete road, but the pain is subdued by the smell that pierces my nose. With my gun secured to my side, I enter the interrogation site that seems to reek of a metallic scent: a smell I know too well, the smell of blood.

The aroma of disinfectants fill my nostrils as I take a seat in the center of the room in a cushy yet uncomfortable chairs. Occasional coughs and wheezes break up the silence. Everyone looks sick as a tuberculosis patient, pallid faces and feeble bodies. This room is stale and lifeless, so it’s so hard to just sit and do not a thing. In the corner is a rack full children’s books, One Fish Two Fish, The Little Engine That Could, and many other beloved stories. There is a Culligan water cooler that creates a blub blub sound whenever someone draws water to the other corner. I check the typical round analog clock. I’ve only been waiting five whole minutes but it feels like it has been hours. A few informational posters about disease hang on the

Today is my first day of Freedom High School and all I hope that is going to be fun, well it is suppose to be, instead stress and anxiety fills the air. What I see on the first day of school are students already stressing about their classes, the endless amount of cliques filling the lunch area and a display case holding our famous cross country team’s medals and trophies. I wonder how I could get a medal, but then I remember being 40 pounds overweight won’t help me. Not only that, I am an elephant who is about 160 pounds and only 5’3”. The classes aren’t bad, but the walking distance in between is horrible. The teachers are nice, but the students are bullies. Everywhere I go, cliques are yelling “Fatty”, “Piggy” or “Obese”. Yeah, I like to be called piggy, isn’t school great? New experiences, zero social skill and a permanent stay. I like to thank my father for his constant job changes, making me move everywhere but this time was the last he says. Before the lunch period ends, I hear thud, thud, thud- a student’s footstep. He taps my shoulder, medium size and a well built guy.

Personal hygiene is a major part of your everyday life. It includes brushing your teeth, taking a shower, applying deodorant, wearing clean clothes, cooking your food properly, and washing your hands when necessary. There are many different types of hygiene and different ways of doing them. The types of hygiene are food and cooking hygiene, medical hygiene, and personal hygiene, there is even such a thing as excessive hygiene. Excessive hygiene may cause allergic diseases. Some parts of the body like the ear canal, or inside of the vagina are mostly better left alone for the body's own cleaning systems. Also, excessive application of soaps, creams, and ointments can adversely affect certain of the body's natural processes. For example,

During my high school years, there were several teachers that I encountered. However, there was one teacher whom I shall never forget. In fact, he would be very difficult to forget, even if he were only remembered for his size, for he was an enormous man. His name is Anthony Sweeney of “Sugar Butty” my third form math teacher. To this point, I never knew the exact reason for such name but all students referred to him in such manner. He was six feet five inches tall and towered over us like a giant and he weighed over three hundred pounds. I never discovered his exact age, but, he must have been no more than forty, even though his hair had turned grey relatively early on, and there was a smooth shiny bald patch on the crown of his head. But, it is not just for his size that I remembered him. In fact, one of the things with I remembered distinctively was his sudden change in temper. One moment he would be very jovial and pleasant to speak to in class, and the next he would shout violently at some timid student who was merely looking through the window or he would become very mean and impatient with his students. For these reason, he became my absolute worst teacher.