My Experience Of Being A Student In The Class

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.

Of my entire Sunday Chinese class I was the only one to get a C. The remainder grades were above 95%. The teacher rounded me up to a 90% for my efforts and disadvantaged conditions. I am a Twinkie - yellow on the outside, American on the inside. I look like everyone else but struggle to differentiate tones of characters. My classmates were all 2nd generation immigrants with both parents speaking Chinese at home. My parents speak full-English and meager Chinese. I am 100% Chinese but a 3rd generation immigrant. My limited language ability has erected a barrier between myself and my ethnically similar peers, which has allowed me to view the world through a different lense.

My thoughts about the class changed throughout the 10 weeks in the quarter. I thought the class was going to be boring but it turned out really good. I really like the exercises that we do in class because they help you create a better character for scenes. My final performance went really well; I was really nervous to perform in front of the class because I thought they wouldn’t like the scene but after performing I got great compliments. I forgot some lines, but I didn’t let it show so I had to stall so I could remember my lines and finish the scene. I had a really great partner, we both contributed to making this great scene we both traded off doing the work like blocking the scene and writing the script to have a complete version. When performing and creating the script I thought of phrases from the reading to help me through the scene like: listening to my partner, knowing my lines, creating a character, and blocking. I think they really help us create a great scene. We rehearsed a lot so we can could do great for the final we both worked really hard to perform the scene.

I never in a million years imagined that I would be a sophomore in college at Forest Park at seventeen. I imagined myself at McKinley surrounded by a bunch of seniors trying not to catch the dreaded senioritis. College wasn't on my mind when I was handed a letter containing the greatest opportunity that I've had and possibly the greatest I will ever have. I was chosen to be a guinea pig for a new upcoming program that would allow juniors in high school to take community college classes on campus instead of attending their old high school. Participants were enrolled in both their old high school and at Forest Park but would only take classes on campus. They were allowed to have the freedom to do after school activities and sports at their high school. The program would allow participants to graduate in two years with a high school diploma and an associate's degree completely free with no strings attached.

This week has been one interesting, hectic experience. Every since I came back to my father’s place after summer break from graduating, I had did nothing but apply for Columbia Southern University. Afterwards, I applied for FAFSA to get government grants to pay for my college considering I was no longer in High School. During August, I did not anything the entire time until school started online. Whenever I received the Critical Thinking (Third Edition) book through the mail, I knew I needed to learn more responsibilities. First week of my online classes passed by and then everything started to form together.

During my first week as a freshman in college, I was still wondering if I had made the right choice for myself. Intrigued if the major I had chosen was right for me, I decided to attend a workshop strictly for product design students. I wanted to meet people in my major and also get a taste of what I had gotten myself into. On my way to the event, I ran into a girl with short curly hair that seemed lost and looking for a specific classroom. I asked her if she was a freshman and, relieved, she replied that she was, wondering if it was my first time in that maze of a building too. The URBN Center is the building where all the design classes are, and accordingly, it has an intricate system of half floors that is eye-pleasing yet confusing to get around.

As I step foot in the classroom, I realize in what mess I got myself into. In a regular day, I would be prepared to go home, lie in bed, listen to music, and just forget about the rest of the world for a while. These past few weeks have been quite stressful. I consider myself a very self-conscious person, so I overthink and exaggerate, but in finals, it is pretty likely you will find me having a breakdown at least every 2 hours. These “flaws” destroyed what was left of my mental strength. The feeling of anxiety runs in my veins ever since I was a child. But today, the feeling runs faster than it ever has.

I had a wonderful experience during my time at Mr. Palmieri’s sixth grade classroom at Woodrow Wilson School in Bayonne, New Jersey. Mr. Palmieri teaches three separate sixth grade classes of Mathematics. He and his students were very welcoming which generally increased my inspiration to teach and pursue my career in education. While completing my field experience, I believe that I have fully grown professionally and academically.

During my years in elementary school, there was time where I was yanked from my other classmates for different types of ridiculous reading comprehension quizzes, passionate passages, and whimsical word recognition test in order to compare my results with those of my age. Those who would pull me out would stick me into a closet sized room and command me to wait for further instructions. To this very day, I can still see the tiny, cramped room with cluttered supply boxes and a dark turquoise, round, semi-circle table standing in the smack center of it. The room would contently smell of sharpened pencil graphite mixed with the stench of newly printed library books and paper cut stings. Although I was never one to read as a child, I have always enjoyed that aged, musty scent, heavily breathing in the intoxicating aroma for my own pleasure. Posters hung from the white, concrete walls with motivational quotes and phrases, such as the phrase “Carpe Diem,” one in which my six-year-old brain couldn’t comprehend at the time. Yet, they were so colorful and eye-catching that I would never actually read the posters themselves, just in awe and amazement. The room was that of a second home to me, a familiar place, once I was done with my tests. However, it was when someone entered that I dreaded ever being there in the first place.

There i was standing there in front of my classroom trying to prepare myself for the hell i was about to face today. I knew when i walked into that classroom, I would be tormented by not only the students but the teacher as well. This is what i went through for almost the past 4 years attending my elementary. I felt like an outcast, i was constantly told i wasn't good at anything and i believed that. I felt like everyone had something they were good at or excelled at and then there was just me. At this time I was 10 years old and attending Ridgewood elementary in Columbus Ohio. i had 5 classes at ridgewood and all of the classes and teachers treated me the same excluding one, art class with Mrs. Worley. Mrs. Worley was the only teacher that believed in me and thought i could do anything if i set my mind to it. On top of that i loved art, i loved to draw, paint, design and Mrs. Worley would always be fascinated by work. I remember that i would always stay in the art room during recess and draw. Mrs.Worley would always tell me that i had a talent for drawing and that lit something in me it was as if Jim was good at basketball, Sally was good at singing, David was good at math, and I was good at drawing.

School was rolling up and since I lived alone now was kinda different. I was homeschooled and on a mountain near Seoul. I got startled by Candy (my rabbit) who stomping on the wooden floor. I hesitantly get up from my bed and walk over to Candy and feed him some food. I look at the time, 6 AM, its was still early so I changed into my new uniform from Hikari Academy. The school was for people that have super powers and abilities. Mine was Telepathy and Animal control. I kinda got it from my parents about slightly different. I cook some eggs and start eating. When I finish, I get up from the chair and stretch. Because I was homeschooled, I had no friends in the past. Well I did have some animal friends. When I go to school I usually get headphones so I don’t read everyone’s mind which was kind of annoying hearing everyone’s thoughts. After 30 minutes I put my phone in my pocket and grab a soft scarf. I head out the door and the cold air goes through me. I quickly put on my headphones, almost forgetting. I walked my way to the school, many others were also going to school. I arrived at the massive school and realized how nervous I was. It was quite frightening. I see a guy that was at least 6ft tall. I walk in the school. And some people look at me weirdly. It was probably because of my tattoo I got before, making them think I’m in some kind of gang. Until I realize that a dove was on my shoulder. I eagerly shoo away the bird. I really disliked attention from others. I look

“Welcome Class to Composition one.” Those words were voiced by my professor, Mrs. Robinson, on the first day of school. Initially, I thought to myself, do I even belong in this college course class. Before school had even begun, the stress over the summer about my English skills was eating me alive. Why? Well, in my past English classes I received A’s on all of my essays, but this college class did not seem so easy. Also, I was always fascinated by all the arts and sciences, but English never struck interest in me. I never thought that I could write any decent essays. The reason I insecure about my writing skills was because of the ACT. Since the ACT is the talk about how smart an individual is, my ACT score was not very high. As the course continued, the first essay approached quickly. I remember being stressed about this essay because of my writing insecurities. Although I managed to acquire a decent grade, I promised myself to strive to make myself a better writer. I started to read Norton Field Guide to Writing handbook also known as the yellow book, and slowly but surely started to develop knowledge of good writing skills and tips to improve my essays. This allowed me to grow as a writer and slowly my insecurities started to dwindle, and I began to gain confidence in myself. I never would've thought that the next time I took the ACT that my English score would be my highest. When getting my score back and realizing that I had improved so much, I began to wonder how I

Just as all our students come with unique experiences and backgrounds, we as teachers all have different experiences and training that prepare us to excel in the classroom. The way I learn, the way I was thought and the experience I had as a student in the classroom greatly influence the way I teach today.

Imagine yourself on the very first day of school. Entering a new environment with many new people. The thought of making new friends was exciting. On the other hand, many were afraid to step into the classroom. A fear of what was to come lingered in their mind. Being shy is common among children and is often overcome with experience. As the youngest of the family, I was very shy. I had older siblings to look up to that would do the things that I feared most. However, going to school was an experience that would encourage me to open myself up to others, which was what I had feared most.

I had just come back from school on Monday. It was a regular day at school