My Experience At The Library

As we pulled up to the massive elementary school building, I begged my mom to let me stay home from school, just once. As usual, she said no. Realizing my attempt to get out of school was futile, I shouldered my backpack, swung open the door, and trudged over to the front door. I would rather be anywhere else than here. For the majority of my life, I attended public schools. It wasn’t rare for me to fail a test or even a whole class. It was because of these failures that I would get even more demotivated and threw away the idea of working hard or completing quality work altogether.

I frantically searched my desk, underneath my chair, and inside my backpack, and it wasn’t before long that my classmates began snickering. Confused, I demanded to know why they were laughing. At first, they didn’t bother to answer me, and instead continued in their self-sustained amusement. After being harassed for the entire school year, this was the last straw for me; the panic induced by my missing belongings and the increasing frustration of being ignored pushed me into a very desperate state of fight or flight mode. However, in this case, I chose to both fight and

I moved into a quiet neighborhood in Orlando, Florida on January 24, 2008. I was a college student working part time at a local Target. I kept to myself and tried to make a little money and have good grades. I didn’t really know anyone, and no one really knew me unless I either worked or went to school with them. One day in early March, I was working on my yard and a little girl tossed her ball into my yard by accident. She ran over and grabbed it. As she ran off, I noticed how happy she was to just be playing with a ball, something that anyone else would take for granted. She looked happy and so excited.

It was the first week of Autumn and leaves enclosed the earth like a blanket. The water was tranquil as the fishermen went out to sea. The sea breeze was strong yet refreshing. The board walk was abandoned apart from a few older fishermen. I come here every morning for my daily walk. All the same people are here every day, however this morning there was a new person. A mid teen girl wearing featureless clothes. I sat on a bench to take in the view. The girl stopped a few meters in front of me observing the railing of the boardwalk. Her hand gently skimmed the wood panelling and this slight movement allowed me to see a piece of stained white paper. It had red smudges all over it with black neat writing on it. She leaned over the

Walking into my classroom every day allows me to feel that I am creating someone’s future be it personally or professionally. I love my career choice because of the impact that I have on my students. In these two years of teaching high school, I have learned a lot about the students in which I share a city with. I say this because when I was in high school, I faced struggles with peer pressure, fitting in, and other frivolous things that really was not as big as I made them. But what I find now is that my students are facing life decisions at even younger ages. Some are facing extreme poverty where they are having to choose

I wanted to gain a strong reaction from people whether it was positive or negative, so I decided I would tell my peers that the Freshman Summer Program was just too intense, and that I most likely would not return in the fall. I chose six triple rooms on the fifth floor in De Neve Holly. I broke the social norm of common courtesy, so I walked in randomly to the first six doors that were unlocked at 11 p.m., which are considered study/quiet hours. I told all eighteen of my peers, “Hey, I think this is just way too much work, maybe UCLA was just not the right fit for me. I am probably not returning in the fall.” Their reaction of astonishment and concern stunned me, not only because it was a random thought, but I also barged into their rooms very late without ever really having talked to them. Surprisingly, not one single person turned me away. Instead, they argued that I am here for a bigger purpose and that everything would get better. Even though I did not feel this way and I valued my opportunities, their urgency in trying to persuade me to stay gave me hope that we are all here to help each other

A family member once told me never judge a book by its cover. If you open the book and see what is inside instead of overlooking it, you might find it interesting after all. This quote by my family member can easily be tied to “The Myth of the Latin Women: I just met a Girl Named Maria” by Judith Ortiz Cofer, and “Just walk on By: Black Men and Public Spaces” by Brent Staples. Cofer, talks about how she was stereotyped for being a Latin woman in American culture. Then Staples, talks about how he was discriminated for being a tall, black man that worked as a journalist in a predominantly white field. Both of these authors, were being put in categories based on their appearance. People assumed they were a certain way because she was Hispanic and because he was African American. Modern society is quick to judge people based on their appearance; mainly on attributes of race and gender, eventually affecting the person’s outlook on life. People can often be treated and judged in a less than an equal manner. Before they even get to know the true nature of a person, they are judged based on race. Additionally, a female may be overlooked for a certain job and the job is then given to a male counterpart, based solely on gender. Lastly, people will see the world in a different perspective because of the exposure of stereotypes. Being judgmental towards ethnicity and gender will keep us

On March 4th, 2005 I sat in Mrs. Musser’s first grade class. I talked with my friend Olivia Thacker, like I did everyday. We talked about boys; how smelly they were and how we would never have boyfriends. We talked about our sisters who were also friends, and we talked about our parents. However, that year we mostly talked about my mother. Around 2:45, my sister, Lauren and I, would walk to the farthest end of the school. That end of the school was filled with the bigger kids and I was always scared to walk on that side. My sister who was in second grade at the time, always walked with me, so I had some protection. Anyways, we walked out the doors to the student car-rider pick up line. My grandmother on my father's side always picked us up

In your grievance filed at North Unit, you claim you have been incorrectly charged for library books. You further assert that you returned the library books at the Tucson Complex prior to your transfer to Florence Complex. You are requesting a refund.

As I walked to my classroom through the lying leaves, it gave some cracking noises. When I entered the room, I saw pictures hanging on the blue wall. I sat down in a wood tables with two Vietnamese girls, and hoping that they would help me with english in class. When I asked the girl sitting next to me for help, she

Due to an outburst of rain people were gathering in the little shops. I decided to sit on a bench located in the beach shelter. It amazed me as I looked around to see all the homeless and junkies under these shelters. Who thought that people that were born so ambitious could turn into being helpless? I turned away to notice the monster crashing waves. I waited a while for the rain to stop, but it never did so I decided to walk around. The beach shelter was not a very relaxing place, especially when it is surrounded by railings. While looking passed the railing I noticed a women walking out towards the beach. She carried a brown bag that looked like grocery bags. She began throwing flowers in the beach. Instead of walking with her back towards the ocean she walked with her back facing the shore. Alot of people were giggling and making jokes about the women. She was showing respect and loyalty from her country. It was ashamed to see people that were showing disrespect of the women. As the rain passed, I noticed the woman leave the beach and I couldn't stop thinking about the women throwing the flowers in the ocean. Feeling the leftover warmth of the mid afternoon, I let my skin absorb the skin rays that peaked out pass the dark clouds. The sounds of the ocean waves were pounding against the shore repressed all my worries. Then I decided to be adventurous, I started charging towards the waves with vigorous and utter excitement. With fear, I swam out further to where my feet couldn’t touch the sand on the bottom. By the feel of the waves that pulled me, I could tell the wave that was came my way was going to be huge. The wave pushed me further and faster as I could feel the wave breaking on my body. As I stepped out of the the deep water, I walked towards my belongings that were on the beach. It was getting late and the weather was becoming more chill so I decided to return

On March 11, 2016, I waited in my house for Charity to come over so I can get some information about her life. Charity, a college friend of my sister Keturah, attends the University of Maryland Eastern Shore (UMES). They have known each other for about a year and a half now. Keturah set up the interview for us which was supposed to begin at 8:00 p.m. It was about 45 minutes past 8:00 and I thought that Charity would never show up. By 9:00, she finally rang the doorbell. I walked at a fast pace toward the door and through the window I saw a brown skinned girl with long wavy black weave. I thought to myself “Wow she must always be fashionably late,” this is not something that I should think about something the third time that I meet them.

Always my seat. And she was of course, staring at me. I noticed during class the little things she does. Push her hair back, grabs and twists her ears until they turn red, picks at her spotless fingernails and scabs on her hand until they bleed. Usually this is when she tells the teacher she has to clean up the mess she’s made. You’ll be lucky if you see her in that class after one of those, otherwise she disappears into the walls of the school, her body receding, swallowed by the colours in the area. This happened day after day, one day after another. The crowd of people would disappear when I would look at her. The other kids I mean. Her eyes the Gatorade ones. They would just stare at me. Look at me and stare right at my face. The look she gave me was usually vacant. Occasionally she would let her emotions spill out like paint spilling on a fresh clean paper. I would see the glass inside of her, the real girl, the shattered one the one who didn’t live to shop, hang out with her friends, squeal over guys. The one who truly believed she was broken, she wasn’t safe and no one could help her anymore. But just as quickly as it came it would disappear like the a fault or glitch in the system. She would go back to the standard usual glacial look and quickly avert her gaze. I would just sigh. We never actually interacted, until the day she came up to

I was walking down the hall, scared. The air conditioning blowing in my face like the wind during a hurricane. It was very cold and empty, I could not hear a peep from a student nor a teacher. The doors were closed and there was a black roll of paper covering the windows as if they were doing a lockdown drill. I found my classroom, room 42. The outside had many motivational posters, but it did not help. I was nervous, terrified, asking so many questions and I thought to myself, Should I just run away?

The library is a wonderful place to go to if you would like a quiet place to work. I like being at the library because it is filled with knowledge, and there are many different books that interest me. I enjoy going to the library because walking there clears my mind. Also, there are many books that are available for the public to read and it is a quiet place to do work.