Carpe Diem Alternate Ending

The morning was foggy and I could see the front of my school through my window. It was a nice sight to see. I walked into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal and there she was with her head down on the table. I could tell that she arrived a couple of hours ago because the tears hadn’t dried from her cheeks yet. I got myself ready gave her a kiss on her forehead and headed off to school. I had walked into class eager to see what my teacher Mrs. Padron had in store for today. Every single day there was something new to learn and there’s something about that infinite nature of learning that really appealed to me as a child. I cherished those 7 hours I spent in class the most I could and I dreaded the mere thought of having to go home where I would have to face the

Everyone had now realised what I had done and broke out in a storm of laughter. I threatened the rest of the class with a similar fate and they exploded again, it only went quiet when the shadow of Miss Blount fell over them. Miss Blount is a native Maycombian as yet uninitiated in the mysteries of the Decimal System, appeared at the door hands on hips and announced that if she hears another sound from the room she’ll up everyone in it.’ She also told me the sixth grade couldn’t concentrate on the pyramids because of the so called racket coming from my room. I did not appreciate her coming into my classroom and telling my pupils to be quiet. The bell then went for lunch everyone filed out I just sunk in my chair and put my head in my arms. A lot had happened in just half a day and there was still the afternoon to come.

In remembering her seventh-grade class in 1965, Charlotte recalls how much she and her friends loved Miss Hancock. They were "backward" because they "had not yet embraced sophistication, boredom, cruelty, drugs, alcohol, or sex." Because of their innocence and their sheltered environments, Miss Hancock "was able to survive, even flourish" as their teacher. Charlotte recalls when Miss Hancock read poetry aloud, the class "sat bewitched, transformed," and they were "drugged by some words as some children are by electronic games." This description juxtaposes the end of the short story. Miss Hancock's teaching career no longer inspired the children because they were no longer the broad-minded, influenceable children they once were. Nostalgia eats away at Miss Hancock, especially in the case of Charlotte. Once so inspired by the composure of a metaphor, “grown up” Charlotte, when asked if she still wrote metaphors responded, “oh, I dunno.” Miss Hancock once knew the mesmerizing and transformative power of words; however, as she and her students aged the words lost their power, in turn she too lost power.

She had discovered the power of words and it felt so exhilarating! She wrote and explored her new found creative love with passion until the door flew open and Miss Muller and Miss Margot rushed in beaming, "We're heard that the war will soon be over and everyone will be freed." Willy jumped up into the air and twirled and then ran over laughing and hugged the ladies. Joseph who was still feeling rather ill sat and clapped his hands and coughed twice. And Anna smiled happily dropped her pen and paper and declared, "I can't believe that we had survived in your basement for so long. It will be such a pleasure to feel the sunshine on my shoulders again." then she stood up and began to twirl around, and around. Midway through her third twirl a violently tremor tossed her to the floor. Then there was another shake and a loud crash as a squad of German soldiers kicked in the front door. Once the soldiers were in they marched around their blacks boots making a click clock sound on the wood floors as they searching. Everyone held their breath and listened as the soldiers opened squeaky doors and then slamming them shut, door after door until finally they entered into the tiny room where the group five was huddled together. Four were on their feet and other remained seated. The tall SS officer who was in charge smiled at the them and mocked, "We're making merriment yes?" Then he pointed to them squinting his small devious blue eyes and demanded, "What's your names?" Everyone gave their name and he frowned at Joseph and through clenched teeth snickered, "You let's go." Miss Margot ran over and stood in front of Joseph and cried, "No, not him, he has hasn't done anything!" One of the soldiers yelled, "Be quiet and get out the way old lady their only being taken a labor camp. Then he knocked her to the floor with the butt of his gun. Willy gasped for air and Anna dashed over to help her up. The officer smirked with

At the end of the day, this new teacher sits down at her desk – for what seems like the first time that day and begins to reflect back on the

This year I had the prestigious honor of being in Ms. Brown’s class, and let me tell you, it was anything but normal. Ms. Brown’s cheerfulness (and maybe a bit of messiness) really helped me realize that teachers actually have lives. They’re not just some robots who are only activated to teach, and then turned off when the class leaves, as much as we might think they are.

Kelly took Will to a preschool that was hard to get into. She and other parents would sit in the classroom with their kids as a teacher taught their children. It was a little community where the parents could interact with others and same with their children. Kelly could notice a difference between Will and the other children at this preschool. One day she watched other children eat candy from a place they did not know.

“You’re insatiable and I’m hungry,” she remarked while jumping out of bed before Ray had time to grab her. Heading for the bathroom, she turned her head to see him drop back down on the pillows putting his hands behind his head with a satisfied smile.

The setting is Meadowlane Elementary and a bashful nine-year-old Lilibeth Martinez was sitting in Ms. Moss’s class preparing for the FCAT Writes. My earliest memories of writing are about when I was in the fourth grade and everyone was preparing to take the FCAT Writes for their first time. I remember sitting all the way in the first row, fourth seat, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper as I jotted down all of my ideas and sentences with my Hannah Montana pencil. I was obsessed with Hannah Montana at the time. Ecstatic at the idea of getting to create a story made of my own imagination, thoughts and opinions. Although my gleeful bubble popped the moment I saw the prompt was about explaining the wonders of wearing uniform the day of the

To begin Laurie came home from the first day and was definitely frustrated. Charles came home and his” voice suddenly became raucous” (Jackson, 345). On the first day of school Laurie told his parents about a boy who received a spanking due to him not obeying the teacher. Charlie was extremely creative coming up with a whole new persona to tell his parents about.

A school day went like this, we’d go to breakfast and wait in the line scoping out the cafeteria to see who we’d be in class with and who we’d get in trouble with. Then there comes first period with Mrs. collins, she teaches social studies and her class was pretty boring. I’d take notes each day and secretly laugh at my friends as they’d try to doze off, constantly looking at the clock knowing that in an hour I’d be in my “fun” class where I could relax. So it's time for next period and this was science class taught by the coach of all boy sports so we didn’t do much. We opened a book on our desk to whatever page he had written on the board, and the rule was: whenever someone comes to the door act like you’re working. Now, don’t get me wrong occasionally we would do assignments and take a quiz or two, but we had it pretty easy, except for the days after the games and the boys did bad. A victory meant we would watch a movie and a defeat meant we’d have to read the chapter, answer the questions at the end, and turn our work

I remember the first day of her class. Like most english teachers on the first day of school, Mrs. Slaughter had us write about our summer. We then went around the room sharing the same five stories of our trips to the beach. Then, Mrs. Slaughter took the rest of the class to tell us about her

One time she decided she was going to write a kind of book. It is going to be a small book, but it was still going to be a book. Most days after school, and when she wasn’t playing with the yellow monkey, she would sit out in her playhouse. She had a nice playhouse in the backyard with a window seat and plenty of light in there. It was warm in the spring

She has nothing to show, but she tells the class that her brother died. She says, “I the only Park now. I keep my name like boy” (Na, 2001, p. 35). A boy asks how he died, but the teacher gets upset and tells him not to ask that. On Fridays, the class makes warm fuzzies, but the teacher decided to have the class make them for her.

“Carpe Diem” is a Latin phrase, which often tends to denote a significant literary theme found in popular culture, including Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society or Green Day’s song, “Carpe Diem.” However, it is also especially common in lyrical poetry. According to Oxford Dictionary, it is “used [as encouragement] to make the most of the present life while it lasts” or “live for the moment.” Both Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” and Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” explore the notion that individuals should endeavor life to its fullest. In his poem, Thomas expresses a very passionate, pleading voice to deeply allure his audience. In contrast, Frost communicates his approach in a more pensive, practical, subtle style that slyly provokes the audience to think about their own fate.