Explain Why Can T School Be Like A Fairground

Aubrey’s mum turned up and told Aubrey that she didn’t come because some days are too hard

“So I’m standing there fuddled from breathing Miss Hinchcliff’s Midnight Marzipan perfume and cross-eyed with figuring. I couldn’t climb into the pit myself because I was doing twenty jobs already. I couldn’t ask Horst the Cat Man because he was a vegetarian to begin with, and his dentures would disintegrate the first time he hit a chicken neck anyhow. Suddenly your mama pops up for all the world like she was offering me sherry and biscuits. ‘I’ll do it, Mr. Binewski,’ she says, and I just about sent a present to my laundryman.”

She went on and on about how Miss Maudie had told her that I had broke her scuppernong this morning and when my father found out

“Hey Mom, why couldn’t we get the extra fruit today? I really wanted some strawberries.”

It was a boring few hours while I was sitting at the steps with the other children in the town. We all get along well but haven’t talked to them since the move. Things have been tiring and this is only our first day here. Finally the arguing was over and the new wooden doors creaked open with parents and adults spilling out. Some frustrated, others satisfied.

“Oh my! Look at you, you must be cold and hunger and we can’t expect you to care for your baby as well. Oh, the poor thing’s shivering. Come in,” said the plump, old woman. The old woman was a bit plump, had grey hair, and had a

“Good morning, Maurice!” Granny Ethel calls with unmitigated cheer, and a hint of pride. “Nice morning, isn’t it? Oh! Have you met my wonderful grandson Todd? He finally came to visit! We’re going shopping now. Will you watch my house?”

I got up to get a drink of water, and a sliver of light from the basement caught my eye. Carefully, quietly, I crept down the stairs, careful that my yellow and brown horsey pajamas didn’t make that slip, slip sound they usually do on the wooden stairs. I peeked around the corner to see my dad at his big oak desk, the old wood stove purring quietly in the corner, casting a warm orange glow around him. I felt my heart swell up a bit. He was figuring; punching the keys on the calculator, shuffling the papers, and pausing to think...and sigh. Punch, shuffle, think, sigh. Punch, shuffle, think, sigh. He absent mindedly reached out and stirred his light brown, watered down whiskey, Old Crowe, swirling the melting ice and liquid around like leaves on a mellow autumn day, the tiny slivers of ice making a musical, tinkling sound. He took a deep breath, closed the books, organized his work space, clicked off the light, and turned toward the fire. I crept down the last step, and scampered over to him. He startled a bit, but then, silently, he took my hand and made room for

“I’m not giving it back until you say sorry for stealing my cornbread!” Our nanny finally came running out,

We arrive on time at my father-in-law’s house. As we expected my sister-in-law Kylie is late again. She never been on time whenever we have a family gathering. The funny part is she is the one who suggested that we should meet in my father-in-law’s house around 9:30 in the morning but she never made it on time. While we are waiting, I finally had a glimpse of my father-in-law’s apartment; it was nice, simple, and neat. I noticed how blissful he was when he is giving me a tour of his house. He showed me his bedroom with a flat screen television, the living room with a nice and cozy

“Please, Mom don’t make me babysit!” Susan cried, falling down to her knees on the shaggy grey carpet, mumbling words underneath her breath that she hoped nobody heard. She laid there for 30 seconds until her mom crushed all hope of a different babysitter and roared, “You have to!” Susan tried hard to plead her way out of this job by insulting her brother, “But Little Earl is such a monster!” She bellowed across the room toward her mom who slammed the door before she heard the whole sentence. But then opened it to respond, “That isn’t nice! I’m going now, so watch Little Earl!” In denial, Susan turned around to see Little Earl standing by the rusted fridge door, the hum of the electricity, and the smell of rotten milk distracted her from Little Earl’s hand on the grape juice. “Little Earl! Don’t do that!” The high pitch screech of Susan scared Little Earl causing his other hand to flinch and the grape juice to flip over the counter and into the family room. “Oh no! Now you’ve done it.” Susan remarked, “You spilled the grape juice all over the white couch! Now I have to clean it up before mom comes back!” stammered Susan nervously. She walked slowly and wobbly to the kitchen. She gripped a paper towel and dipped it in club soda. Susan then began scrubbing until the couch had turned back to its original color.

I always thought school was supposed to be like the show called “Recess”. I began to loath television shows that gave me this false hope as I got older. For the most part school was a breeze through junior high and until now. I can only believe that I struggled in primary school in the past due to lack of steadiness around me. I also believe that the constant changes in my environment have played a crucial role in shaping my approach to schooling and my expectations of and attitudes toward it. In this informative essay I will explore my learning experiences, how my views were shaped, and the connections and significance of each event.

A couple weeks later, the departure date approached for my mother to be dropped off at the airport for her week long trip. Returning home without the head of the house present, I felt as if the responsibility rolled over to my hands – as the older sibling. My grandmother did not know the routine of the house; so I

On sunny days Old women spoke about ‘Mrs Whatshername’ and her immoral habits, support tights, supper and the grand kids. Young mothers stressed about new teeth, tantrums, potty training and finding the right school whereas old men just talked about themselves.

The tears in Aunt Madeline’s eyes fall to the floor. There is a long pause and I wonder if this is how my mother felt when her mother discovered she was pregnant with me. I wonder if she felt that she could not breathe only to realize she had forgotten to while waiting for something to fill the deafening silence. I wonder if she felt that the entire world had frozen and wondered if life would ever go on. I wait for whatever she is going to say next and part of me thinks that I may not want to hear it.