I Am Hiding At The Top Of The Staircase Crying

Learning that school is something to be glad about was one aspect I will never forget. School helps spark and form the character of discovery in one’s mind. To find problems in the world’s society and attempt to fix them so future generations will not be forced to make that same mistake. Other than social media, education is the most powerful tool to train an adolescent’s mind. Coming from the Nobleboro Central School I have this story. The first trimester was a long one, I had never presented a project before and didn’t know the first thing about talking out loud in front of a class. Also, my English was considerably bad with papers handed in, in rough draft form. My English is still a little rusty, although my past teachers have guided me past the few trimesters preparing me for an average High School paper. Concludingly, the first trimester of public school was a real learning experience with mostly a C average in most of my classes which left room for improvement. The second trimester I had an understanding of school and was trying more and more on improving how I could understand teachers. This time of education at public school was the aha moment wherein I could explore the true reasons of presentations, tests and open book exams. The third and final trimester was a matter of consistency in grades. Because of this, most of my trimester average grades were in the B+/A range. Thankfully, because of this I had finished the 8th grade with most subjects having a yearly average of a

I went to school, except this time with a funny feeling, knowing this was the last time I would ever see any of them. All my friends and other family, I wouldn’t be seeing for a long time. Then the day came. We all woke up early that morning. My mom helped me and my brothers pack our bags and get ready for the flight. As a family we made our way to the airport with a drive that felt like it took a million years. Finally, we reached the airports and I was ready to collapse in a seat and go right to sleep.

That first day of school that morning was filled with nerves, and heading into the school year.  I was ready as usual and as soon as the bus came, waved to my parents as usual. The bus ride

One beautiful Monday morning, everything was calm (for now). I woke up very fresh, excited, and ready to go to school! It was a nice and sunny day, the best way to start a week. I woke up at 6:00 a.m and had a lot of time to get ready for the school day. After that I wore my clothes, did my hair, and brushed My teeth. Next, I had breakfast that included cereal, milk, and apple juice. My sister and I went outside and saw that my dad was waiting for us to get in the car, so that he can take us to school.

My mother was out of town, so I knew it was not her. I grew afraid of the strange woman in my house, the maroon-colored walls in my bedroom was giving me an ominous feeling, making my room look stained with blood. I went quietly out of my door and down the hallway, knowing that they were arguing in the kitchen by the volume of their voices. I paused in the middle of the hall, unsure whether to continue or to go back to my bedroom. I only decided on the former after I heard a muffled shout and the woman’s voice laughing. This decision was the biggest mistake of my life.

The new environment was a well-needed change, and we quickly began school that August. Everything for once was manageable and running smoothly. Then, I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, high school was over, and I was facing an ultimatum presented to me by my mother; either I go to college, or I move out and figure my own life out. I resentfully chose the first option.

It was soon the end of August which meant school was right around the corner. I wasn’t too excited, but I was a little anxious to see what God had in store for me. We hopped in the car, and were on the way. I walked into my new school, Country Day, and acknowledged the wind carried the sound of the chitter-chatter of my fellow classmates, lockers slamming as hard as nails and the howling of the spider-monkey. The halls were outdoor and you could see the never ending mountains and feel the gentle breeze swaying back and forth. I enjoyed the first day and couldn’t wait to go back for more. Throughout the day, I met someone special, someone who would soon to be my best friend, partner in crime, my other half, Sibley. She helped me see the good in situations and inspired me to be outgoing and carefree. Our families became best friends and went on adventure after adventure together. The year

From the moment I walked into the doors of Gertrude Fellow’s Elementary School as a five-year-old kindergarten student, I fell in love. I went into each day excited and ready to learn. This passion for school continued throughout my high school and college years. It is part of what drives my love for education. School was always an environment to be myself, explore new things, and to even make a few mistakes. As a young child, I thought everybody felt the same way. I was confused when peers said they hated coming to class, or couldn’t wait to go home. I couldn’t understand why anyone would hate something I loved so much.

I was dropped off at the school and I shook with excitement. “Good luck and do your best!” my mother shouted in her usual high and happy voice as she sped off in our small Honda. I walked into the school gym and

At the end of first grade my parents decided to move. They wanted to move because they wanted to change schools for me, but are old house that I had lived at would only let us go too slv, and my parents didn’t want me to go to slv. So they decided to move. All though we had only moved across town, it felt like a world of difference. My old school was a small, desolate private school in Santa Cruz. We only had one class per grade. My first 1st grade class had only 17 kids. Now I was going to the big, scary elementary school with over 100 kids and more than 30 kids in my class.

I wish I could say that my childhood was halcyon, but it filled with challenges. I was born and raised in a medically deserted community had only one part-time physician. Even today, the residents in my hometown face difficulty in search of quality medical treatment. In addition to the scant amount of medical attention given, this place also faced with educational difficulty. I have no memory of my father succumbed to liver cancer when I was only two. My mom never told me whether they went to school or not. Regardless of her educational background, she considered education is prior in life. Therefore, she did the best she could to ensure that I got a quality education. However, I had to walk 10 miles to school and it was harsh for me. Moreover, I remember the classroom activity was also hard, having a toll and a grip-comfortable pencil was not an option, and students shared few antiquated school supplies.

I dreaded coming home, it was the worst thing I could imagine and as i grew the feeling didn’t change. I would get out of bed quietly not wanting to wake up my mother, my bruises are still healing from yesterday’s beatings. I go to my closet and put on a black, long-sleeved shirt to cover up the scars, a pair of jeans to cover the hurt and a pair of hand-me-down sneakers. I quickly tip-toe past my mom’s room, only to see her lying there, sound asleep with an empty wine glass slowly slipping out of her hand. I grab my book bag and walk out the door and to the bus stop. I walked through the hallways, to each class and I hear the nasty comments and the rumors, secretly believing every word they say. I walked to lunch a sit alone as people pull

Williams, you gave her fits but she loved you. There were days when you wanted to stay and do what you were suppose to do. The days you didn't, you were sent out and had to go to your sister, Taryn, class. In that class you always would do what you were suppose to do. You always did the second grade work but wouldn't do your work. It was so weird at how you did things. When you moved into your first grade year, you had Mrs. Nail. You did good in her class but you was a talker. You loved to talk. Your 2nd grade year, was easy in work and etc. but it it was rather difficult. You got into a couple of fights. Your teacher was Ms. Fennell. She loved having you in her class. I remember the day I got a call from the principal, Mrs. Waterson. “Hello…” “Hi...yes is this Ms. Davis?” “Yes this is she.” “This is Mrs. Waterson at Barnard Elementary. I'm calling regarding to Jayden Davis-Booker, she has been in a fight.” What in the world I thought. “What happened this not like Jay!?” “She was playing by herself on the slides...no one else was by her and on the slides. Well, one girl came over there and got on the slide when Jayden came down. Ms. Fennell said she should have went over there when she saw Jayden stand there and stare at her because she didn't know what she was gonna do but she just stood there and watched. Well, when the little girl came down, Jayden went over there. Jayden took her by her wrist and started

Walking to the bus stop that morning was difficult, but exciting at the same time. I was soon going to be at the high school for my first day. I knew that it was just an orientation, but I was still nervous. I don’t have any older siblings so taking my first step into the school was like a step in the dark, I had no idea what high school would actually be like. Little did I know that high school would change the way I view life, school, and grades.

The first year, the time to prove myself had arrived. Classes, rooms, teachers, and some students were unfamiliar. Eventually, minutes melted into hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. It didn’t take long before my schedule was routine, something of second nature. Humor and happiness were found in the form of my advisory family, where school was transformed into something more than going through the same motions of day to day activity. By the closing point of sixth grade, I was having a hard time letting go of what I’d adapted to. “What’s wrong?” my dad asked when I was getting into the car after being picked up early on the last day. I explained how distressed I was that my first year of middle school exceeded my expectations, and that it had to come to an end. Although his outlook viewed my reason for sorrow as trivial, I didn’t.