How The School Operated With Its Attendance Policy

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

Having a three day weekend and more time to learn is a huge win win, and with the extended school day that could happen. The extended school day is a controversial issue that has been argued over for awhile. Whether or not we should increase the length of the school day itself and give students a three day weekend or just keep the school days normal. Schools should definitely increase the length of the school day and give students more down time and freedom by giving them a three day weekend, more quality time with teachers in school and dramatically help the struggling students.

Indifference filled the air on this, the most average of fourth grade Thursday afternoons. So unbearably ordinary. When the dismissal bell rang, I leapt out of my seat, not bothering to close my backpack, and out of Ms. Jones’ classroom. The warm May air met my face like that of a blowdryer on the highest heat setting.

To my surprise, my brash behavior changed the conversation. I had their attention. The administration responded that there could be an alternative. For this option to work, I would have to sacrifice my free time to instead dedicate myself to school and to follow a strict academic plan. I fought for this second chance and seized it as quickly as I could. At that moment, I learned the value of self-advocacy. It would be my light guiding me out of the deep hole of failure and self-doubt I had created. It was my way to move

On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade

My evaluation of the room’s style, was interrupted by a BLASTING surprise: there were 40 energic students amid one substitute teacher: me. A few, but not all, of the students’ hormones ran faster than a New York City freight train.

That night my parents forgot her outside in the backyard. But I remembered her. I went downstairs, let her in, and gave her some leftover turkey from earlier that night. We both went upstairs and with her literally on top of me, keeping me warm, her slicked back fur and a smile on her little puppy-dog face, we fell asleep, bringing the most perfect day to an

For this research, I asked one of my friends, Hannah, who still a student there to skype me in so I could observe. We started to skype at the end of her class and I watched as her and other students herded into the lunch building. She described what she witnessed as I paid close attention to the screen. Many students were either speed walking or running toward the lunch lines while other rushed to claim their spot in the cafeteria or hallway. Once all the spots are claimed in the cafeteria and on the sides of the hallway, several social groups take to standing in

I open the door to the school hallway. Inside I hear the chatter of many students at once. There were dozens of people in the area, and I was slightly overwhelmed. This place I have entered is what I wold come to know as Quest Middle School, one of the most stressful, but interesting two years I have had in a long time.

In the government boarding schools, the American Indian children were children were not treated well. They were not feed with good meals that were having the nutrients that they needed for their good health and physical wellbeing. In addition to that they were treated in a military style. If one students did something “wrong” they were given hard punishment that were sometime harming them physically and mentally. In the afternoon, their classes were on vocational training classes. One could imaging the trauma a child who is subjected to those harmful treatments can have in his/her life.

You’ve reached the classroom now, the right one, you’re sure, but there’s already people inside and you’re early, so you lean against a wall and wait. You keep your mind perfectly blank as you watch the students, now your peers, go by. You notice the rock in your shoe again, and you contemplate it’s and then your very own existence for a while, very heavy but not unpleasant before class thoughts.

I hadn’t noticed how much the conversation had become heated. I had unknowingly stood up from my seat, the palms of hands slammed onto my desk. I had been seething with hatred, my face blotchy and overheated. Mr. Hartford had a look of pure disbelief on his face. I breathed out and looked around the room at the students who had been staring at me. Some had their mouths open in awe, while others looked at me with disgust and hatred. Someone had begun clapping and other had begun to join in, which had me shrinking back into my seat. The bell rang, causing a long needed disruption.

I have been notified by your team leader, Barb, that you were not at work today and that you did not notify her. It was not until she contacted you that she found out that you were not coming into work today.

The ride to school was short, we didn't talk much, we don't have to, just the company of each other is enough for us, I walked into school with April by my side as we always did, and we prepared for hell.

One day there was a little girl named Fran Bow. She had a happy life with her parents and Aunt Alice, an almost happy life. Fran Bow didn’t have any friends so one day her parents bought her a cat. She named him Mr. Midnight, she loved how his fur was so soft and black, Fran Bow finally had a friend.