Linda Winters 's A Good First Day Of School

It was not the voice they were familiar with to greet them. They had almost come to expect Mom’s warm, quipped voice, or perhaps Mrs. Fletcher’s sweet, pitched calls, given how many times it had happened in the third grade. They remembered the hot embarrassment of having her repeatedly yell to them in the middle of class, of having students snicker as their slow, sluggish returned to the present.

“Hello,” the teacher said. The class echoed her monotonously. “I’m Mrs. McEversons. First we’re going to get to know each other.”

It was my first class, of my first day, of my first year at Sartell High School. As a freshman, everything about high school is nerve wracking. Simply just looking at an upper classman would send chills throughout your spine. Basically, school was prison at the time (metaphor). Every freshman would walk into their classes, crossing their fingers, and wishing to see one of their friend’s vibrant faces. I clearly remember that day; I trudged through the halls with some of my very best friends, and we tried to find our first classes. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies swam up my nose (personification); I then realized that I must be close to my first class, foods and nutrition. Standing outside the room, I look in and notice the room was white and vacant (Participial Phrase). My stomach dropped to the floor; I knew nobody in this class. I quickly glanced around the bare room, looking for a familiar face. The only other girl in my grade was absolutely the last person I would want to share this class with. She looked like somebody I would not normally want to associate with, conceited and stuck up. With rapid, quiet feet, I walked into the classroom, and I heard the rustling of papers (Prepositional Phrase). This could only mean one thing, a seating chart. I scurried through the chart and found my spot. Of course, I sat next to her, the cruelest girl in school,

Cassie is not too thrilled about school or meeting her teacher, Miss Crocker. Although, Cassie and her classmates were shocked that they were getting books in their school this year but the

I am Elisabeth Ocegueda, a freshman at Harrisburg High School with a, hopefully, bright future. When I first met Mr. Hartzler I was a little, lost twelve year old girl in middle school who didn’t quite know were she belonged. Mr Hartzler was one of the first teachers I had come to know that had enough energy to make an English class fun. Mr. Hartzler let me express myself and even though he might not know it, he is one of my favorite teachers because I knew that in contrast to other teachers, he actually cared about me and my future. I was never judged in his classroom and I was slowly but surely able to find myself. Over all, Mr. Hartzler will always be a teacher that I respect and that I will remember for my whole life. Thanks to him, I know who I am and what is right.

Before August attends his new school, he gets to check it out first. He also gets the opportunity to meet three new people: Jack Will, Julian, and Charlotte. “ What’s the deal with your face? I mean were you in a fire of something?” This is when August gets that feeling that this could be the worst decision he has ever made. However, August’s final decision is to attend Beecher. His first day of school is similar to what he expected. People staying away from him and

Lucy sat through the last minutes of school, thinking time couldn’t go any slower. She was SOO excited for Summer to finally come. She already had plans. Absolutely nothing. Well, those were her plans until she got home.

Brooke knew that she should’ve been awake thirty minutes ago to get ready for school, but she had absolutely no motivation. Brooke was a student at North Shore High School, in San Jose, California. It was her first day of the last year of high school at the school she had nothing but hate for. Brooke loved sports, but didn’t like the fact that she had to go to school to play sports. She was involved with many activities and clubs, like volleyball, basketball, art club, choir and many others.

When Sarah got to middle school she was excited for school. It was a new start, a new

She walked down the hall of her school, MME. The boys stared and girls glared eyes full of jealousy. She held her chin high and went to her class walking in at the minute bell rang. She set

As little Suzy was walking into school on the very first day, she was so excited since it was the first day of school and it would be her last year in the elementary school. Next year she would be finally a middle school starting next school year. But something was very different about the school this year. She just thought it was her imagination and didn’t expect anything about it. She even thought that the teachers were acting very weird this year.

It’s a little gem for newer teachers who want accessible activities for the first day or week at their fingertips. – Sandee Thompson, Modern English Teacher

It is the first day of a new school year. A teacher is in her room preparing for the day ahead just like every teacher across the nation. But something is different about this one. This teacher is positively radiant. She’s beaming from ear to ear at the thought of new moldable minds sitting in her colorful room. Her hair is wrapped is a twisting silver spiral and her jeans are bedazzled and trendy. She’s well composed right down to her patterned cowboy boots. Something else is unique about this teacher though, and it’s not just her fashion. This woman is strong. This woman is determined and ready to take on any challenge. Soon every person in Fairview High School would know her name, Valerie Willmore.

The next morning, I slept over Abbey’s house and Albert meet up with us. Abbey’s mom drove us all at six thirty in the morning and as you can guess our tour of Lowell High School was at seven forty five. Sadly when we arrived, I saw Jake in the corner of my eye. At that moment, I realized this was not going to be as fun as I thought. Then comes a tour guide, her name is Sally Johnson.

“You must be my freshman,” she says throatily “I’m Mrs. Purol, welcome to tenth grade English.” In a short succession of steps she guides me to a seat in the second row, and takes her place at the front of the classroom. “Everyone,” she begins, “This is Elizabeth. She is a freshman this year, and therefore new to the high school experience. I want each and every one of you to make her feel welcome.”