Miss Crocker: A Short Story

My first day of the second grade, I knew no one except the teacher and my younger brother. Kindergarten and first grade had been easy enough, but I was scared of the upcoming year. The only thing I knew about being the new kid was that it hadn’t panned out too great for Addie from the American Girl books. Mrs. Henson’s class was fairly quiet throughout the day, for most kids were nervous or tired. We neared the end of the day and I was ecstatic over the fact that hadn’t made a complete fool of myself. I hadn’t met anyone yet, but I thought that that would be a challenge for another day. Unfortunately, that’s not what Mrs. Henson had in mind. She sent us all out to recess with a grin plastered on her face and with me practically kicking

The fresh faces of the 2016-2017 sophomore AP English class looked up at Mrs. Belles, some expectantly, some apprehensively. Among those faces is Francine Lamasko, a girl of 15 years of age, newly refreshed from summer and carrying her completed summer work. Decidedly, she thinks to herself, this will be a meaningful year of learning, of growth, and of fun. She is ready.

To start, students should not be completely obvious to the harsh topics explained in some of their books. The book To Kill A Mockingbird was kick out of the 8th grade lesson plan “due to the use of the ‘N’ word” in Biloxi (Clarion Ledger). This book show how difficult

"when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can’t go the public amusement park that has just been adverted on television, and see tears welling up in her little eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see the depressing cloud of inferiority begin to form in her little mental sky, and see her begin to distort her little personality by unconsciously developing a bitterness toward white people." (735).

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

On the first day of school Little Man's teacher was not at school so Mr. Crocker Cassie's teacher has to teach both classes. The first day they got something they had never had before books. Little Man opened the first page and saw that the books were handy downs from the white schools and they were old “Very poor” (pg. 25). This made Little Man mad he through his book on the ground Mr. Crocker wanted him to pick it up, but he wouldn’t. The teacher was going to give him a whipping, then Cassie stood up and showed her what made Little Man mad. Mr. Crocker would not listen, so Cassie through her book down too, and

Because I remain alienated from the rest of the other students who walk, I became a target of the daunting school bus. Even though the pupils on the bus and I settle in the same town, people of white-skin receive a bus while others take a dreadful course to school. In addition to the social unjust blacks endure, the school bus harasses people of my skin color. On multiple occasions, racial slurs and derogatory messages would be directed at me as the bus passes. The desire to take revenge on the bus grew every day as the harassment continued, but the punishment that would follow the actions taken upon the bus would be severe. However, after a plethora of malicious events have been purposely done to African Americans such as myself, a plea of action was necessary. At the onset of the following morning, the children of my family and I decided to put an end to the intimidation the bus put on us. Although our mother would look down upon this action, we decided to dig a trench to put the bus in its place: the dirt. After we took revenge on the bus, persecution toward race halted. Since my entire family unified under one cause, we were able to overcome this problem despite the community's prejudice against people of black

The five-minute warning bell goes off. I rush to my first class of my junior year, eager to see my classmates, who I was going to spend the rest of the 9 months with. I find myself stumbling into a classroom plastered with decorations of Denzel Washington with a Dr. Seuss book in his hand, a t and college flags galore. My AP English 11 class suddenly seemed so appealing to me. As a beautiful, curly haired short lady stood in front of me and said “Welcome to AP English 11,” I knew that I had found a treasure so much greater than just a pretty classroom. Little did I know, that short lady was going to inspire me throughout my challenge filled second-to-last year of high school.

You’re probably wondering who’s writing to you. Well, this is you: Abby (NOT Abigail) Wieland. I’m writing this when there are 3½ days left in sixth grade. I know that you are in your room, packing and repacking your school supplies. You’re also terrified for your first year of middle school. It’s not as bad as you think. Nothing really changes, except there’s different teachers for every class. Most of the time, you’ll love middle school. Just like every year, though, there will be times when you hate it. Just warning you.

First, my parent’s had to withdraw me from school, along with my sisters, Callie and Alisha. I remember going to school in my regular clothes instead of my usual ugly uniform shirt and skirt. “Why is she allowed to wear normal clothes today?” questioned Bailey, as she pointed at me with her short chubby finger. The room went quiet, and the class stared at me. My teacher, Mrs. Class, told everyone that I was leaving. After I gathered

I have gathered you all here today, because recent events have really had the whole town in uproar… I thought I should remind y’all that Just because their are folk… white folk… that would discriminate against us coloured… that would go out of out their way to cause us trouble… Does not mean, we should prejudice these people and expect them all to commit such acts upon us all. Myself personally, rasin’ two white children, and tendin’ to their property, I ‘ave begun to truly see, that there are those who would help, and who would look out for our kind in times ‘o trouble. Mr Finch for instance, Is a man of kindness, a man who would fight for coloured folk in court even if he knew the odds were against him. I can bet that there be plenty ‘o other folks, who would treat us like human bein’s... Now… I been hearin’ crazy talk about startin’ a riot.

As I started running out the car I noticed I had forgotten my posters I had for my classroom. It was so much going on in my life, that I didn’t believe I could make it this far. "Mrs. Stacy, do you need help carrying your stuff to your classroom?" Said Mr. Jacob who had settled his classroom right across from mine. "Oh your help would be soo useful at this moment Mr. Jacob!" As I gave him the two big boxes of books that were filled with rain and mud from the thundery rain I ran back to my car to get my posters. Mrs. Stacy was just starting her career at Tennessee in Hicks Elementary School. An art teacher who had just graduated and moved away from the big city lights and into an old small town. She was just getting used to Mercy Town, a few miles away from an old cemetery.

During the first week of the school, two professors had given her assignments to read a chapter before she came to the next class. That day, she had a couple of hours before she headed out to volunteer work that she signed up for at church, so she decided to go to the library after class and finish the assignments. She went to the front desk at the library, and asked for the two reserved textbooks. The person behind the desk, informed Traci, that students are allowed to check out one book at a time. Fair enough she thought, and she checked out a text book, found an empty table, sat down, and opened up the chapter that she wanted to read. Guess what? Her jaw dropped, because that chapter had 32 pages. It may not be a lot for many students, but knowing that

For three years she’s waited to get her favorite teacher Miss.Harriet, turns out it didn’t go as planned she was assigned to a different teacher, and was disappointed.

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.