for herself and her two younger siblings. The middle one doesn’t finally get up until 10 minutes before he’s scheduled to walk out the door. By the time I manage to get everyone up and where they’re supposed to go (the oldest driving my middle to school, my youngest dropped in daycare) I’m 15 minutes behind schedule. I take the 45 min drive to work and face a room full of chaotic 2nd graders for a hefty 7 hours before staying after for another 2 to help the other faculty and then taking
As an eight hour school day, filled with laughter and joy as I spent time with my friends, whizzed by, I walked towards my bus. Looking around I could see everything from birds gliding in the wind, their feathers glistening in the sunlight, to spiders in the bushes, working tirelessly to spin their magnificently intricate masterpiece of a web. The trees are starting to change from a vibrant green, to a light yellow, to a deep orange, and finally, to a bloody red. The contrast of all the awe-inspiring
behind me to see that my sister wasn't here today. I assume that her friends mom picked her up from school that day as my mom drives out of the school parking lot. “How was your day?” despite her gloomy mood, she fights to keep a smile and start our day to day conversations where we wrap up our days on the way back home. Still oblivious to what's going on I answer with complaints about the day not going fast enough for my liking. My mom just listens to me patiently, which is unlike her since she
so I sat myself up in my bed and waited for her to come in and tell me to get ready for my day; she did this every morning. Only a minute later she came in and did exactly as I had thought. Taken aback by the fact that I was awake she said , "Hurry up, we have to leave soon," in the same kind, loving voice she always used when talking to me. As soon as I had finished getting ready for my school day, I went back into my room and observed my appearance in my long mirror that went vertically
black dresses. It was Bridget Angels mother she was the most popular girl in school. She has long light brown hair and green eyes with tears coming out of them. Bridget never cared about her mother, she would always yell at her. Mrs.Angels used to be our high school social studies teacher until she quit a couple of months ago. Because Bridget told her to because it was too embarrassing for her mom working at our school. Mrs.Angels is a nice older lady, but she wasn't really old. She was sweet and
intact for tomorrow. My shoe is spotless, my school bag all packed with books, all the pockets and zippers filled with stationary and my tie and undershirt folded neatly. I was ready for first day of school in the city I’ve never been to. All my mother told me that it is nothing like our hometown; its different, but how much different? Haven’t been to summer school, I knew no one nor what the school environment is like. The only thing I was thinking about in this moment is the fact that I had to
so I sat myself up in my bed and waited for her to come in and tell me to get ready for my day; she did this every morning. Only a minute later she came in and did exactly as I had thought. Taken aback by the fact that I was awake she said , "Hurry up, we have to leave soon," in the same kind, loving voice she always used when talking to me. As soon as I had finished getting ready for my school day, I went back into my room and observed my appearance in my long mirror that went vertically
realizing that I'm late for school. My alarm never went off. I forgot to plug in my phone oh my God I'm so stupid! I get up to shower grabbing a fluffy towel, one for my body one for my hair. As I get ready I decide what to wear. Should I wear this Victoria secret pink sweater with leggings and UGGs or skip the UGGs and wear my vans oh! maybe I'll wear my Jordans. eventually I decided on the UGGs even though it's warm out I want to look cute. I finally arrive at school I missed first period but I
Compare-Contrast Essay Eng121: English Composition I (AXC13480) Regina McKinney Professor: Nancy Segovia January 1, 2014 A narrative essay is about storytelling for a narrative story to work it must capture and hold the audience attention you must give a clear understanding of your story. A descriptive essay lets you describe in detail what the essay is all about using words that appeal to your sense of smell, hearing, see, touch, and taste. A descriptive essay lets you use words that
people who lack personal responsibility do just fine in life, personal responsibility will lead to my success in and beyond school because it gives me the confidence to succeed, and will lead to a better life for my family and me. Now as to my approach for this paper I am writing this essay according to The Descriptive Essay (2011), "The descriptive essay is a genre of essay that asks the student to describe an object,