Creative Writing: Why I Hate School

Text “Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

"Sometimes you gotta let something bad happen, or else you wont know how to fix things when they go wrong later."

Sunshine was pouring out from in between the buildings, casting shadows all around Ponyboy and the gang as they walked to Pony’s school. They were taking their time walking down the streets and for the first time they all were really seeing what was all around them. Memories were surfacing

I hate creative writing! I used to have an affection to write all the time, but now it just doesn’t give me pleasure anymore. Also, the books that I get from the class are horrendous too. It’s extremely tough to read a book when it doesn’t even excite anyone at all! reading and writing is exceptional when the writer, that is yourself, comes up with the idea, and your thoughts matter. But now review me, I’m forced to read an irrelevant book about a pathetic guy, and I’m writing about foolish Dylan Montgomery who thinks I’m broken! I’ve lose respect for something that I love to create

I drove slowly down the winding small gravel driveway surrounded by tall trees and forest that led to St. Agnes Cane Hill Psychiatric Hospital. I had been sent a letter by the director Mr. Jonathan Hammond, in the letter the kindly informed me that my great aunt Carolynne had passed away and since I was her only living relative it was up to me to come collect her belongings or they would be thrown away.

“Chloe move it, you take up the space for both of our lockers.” Annie said pushing Chloe out of the way.

brother their ice cream, and go back to the counter to scoop my own. I look out the window above the sink as my mom replies. "Ok, sounds fine, bring a swimsuit, and that light purple sweater for night time, and hiking boots and old sneakers, and LOTS of socks, and-" I listen to her as I search out the window for nothing in particular, until I see a movement in the window of Camden's house on the first floor. I stare at it as my mom drones on, and Camden emerges from behind the curtain and waves creepily.

“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.

I hate school, I mean everything is going wrong. Robbin has now got a boyfriend, his name is Jack and I personally think he is a jerk. He is one of those guys at high school that you would find surrounded by cheerleaders. Oh did I mention, he is the captain of the football team? what a jerk. Okay actually, Jack is a really nice guy, very popular as he is the captain of the football team, no wonder Robbin likes him. I mean look at me, I am the kid you would find in high school, oh wait I am the kid in highschool who you won't even notice. Right now as I am writing I can feel my veins popping out as my blood rushes through my face. Could this day get any worse?. Oh did I mention, Robbin is my best friend?. We have been best friends for a very

This time the store owner had called the police. Roxy had shoplifted from his establishment before but I had always been able to fix it; most times by paying double the price. Peering through the faceted glass of my front door, I could see Mr. Pachenko pacing the brick-edged sidewalk,

Hansly soon followed her, but before he did he stare at Joshua with extreme disappointment. His dark brown eyes left Joshua stunned, as he never seen him so upset about anything. Joshua turned his face toward the window and starred at the atmosphere where he saw a gray clouds shrouding the blue and sunlit sky with a frigid air. As the bus stopped at Detroit Cristo Rey High School, Joshua then proceeded to go to his homeroom class where he would find his friends and try to apologize to them for his actions. As he enters the classroom he only found Rose, his father, and his teacher, Mr. Peter, conversing to each other.

“It most certainly is not,” retorted Phillie. “Freddie is that terrible man from those awful movies made years ago. The man who would attack children in their sleep.” “Freddie Krueger,” Ernest clarified. “The other kids started calling Neil that after he

The arena was jammed packed; it's occupants attention directed straight towards the stage. They were awaiting a man. A man who would fall in their midst soon, but a man they wanted to see nonetheless. On this stage, there were two red curtains on each side and the floor was lined with redwood. The arena itself had a theater like build to it. In the suburbs of Philadelphia, a venue of this sorts carried a sort of perplex bewilderment to it. It's presence in the city was admired, but at the same time gave a peculiar feel to the residents nearby. It was a like a shining Cathedral in a poverty ridden city; like a single Skyscraper in a agricultural landscape. It didn't quite fit it.

“So what grade do you have in this class? My grade is borderline right now so I’m trying my best to get it up.” said Chay.

“Mom! Can I go to Alex’s party? It runs from five to seven,” Troy asked. “No you are not going to any parties this week because your grades are very low and you're skipping school. Your teacher called me today complaining about your grades and that you are skipping