My Experience Of My New School

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

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.

Getting the ability to interview one of my past teachers was an awesome experience. I had the luxury of talking to one of my former high school teachers and Student Council advisor Tessa Gargano. We have a great reputation together and basically know each other like the backs of our hands.

I wasn’t sure what would become of me. It was peculiar, really. What was I supposed to expect? I was beginning a new school for the first time, and no high school movie could have prepared me for the years ahead. Come June, however, I beyond a doubt realized what was to become of me.

I was getting closer and closer. Not a bird in sight, not even a single cloud. The moon was starting to shine as the sun was descending from the cerulean sky. Drivers were getting closer and closer to their destination, so was I. I took one more footstep where my mind flashes back four years back. It was a warm atmosphere, although it wasn’t my desire to start somewhere fresh. I walked into my first class, two girls came up to me, and secured that I had a nice first day. After my first, class I go into a classroom, which wasn’t what I all expected. It all seemed so historic and antique. It really emphasized his passion. He was teaching something, that I had already learned. He was asking the whole class what the regions of the United States

I, Makena Brown, was thinking about what to write in my fifth grade classroom, as I watched my teacher, Mrs. McGovern, discuss ideas for memoirs with fellow peers. After giving the familiar classroom a good look, I finally processed that there was only one month left at my beloved elementary school, Booth Hill. As I thought about my previous years at this Trumbull Connecticut school, I was shocked by how fast the years went by, and by the drastic changes regarding the school, students, and teachers.

The sun was beating down on me as I apprehensively stepped up to the big box that held the folder with my fourth grade teacher’s name pasted onto the front. Helpers were asking my name, but my mind was on the awful rumors about Mrs. Glassic. A hand was reaching down into the box, shuffling through the folders when abruptly, it came to a halt. It felt like years, but eventually, the manila envelope arrived in my hands, labeled “Mrs. Glassic”. As my stomach dropped I thought back to a week before, when I heard awful rumors about the meanest, strictest teacher at Green Valley, Mrs. Glassic. On the first day of school I was apathetic and not looking forward to the school year. Quickly, I found myself growing closer and closer to Mrs. Glassic, the patient and encouraging teacher that is determined to find what’s best for her students. For those characteristics, I admire her.

"Tasnim, can you please stay after class? I need to talk to you." I let go of the door handle and whip my head back to face my third grade teacher Mrs. Russell. She said my name correctly for the first time all year, though her voice was stern. I realize that my jaw has dropped by the expression on her face as she peers over her laptop. As I walk slowly towards her, my classmates whisper, "Ooh she's in trouble" as they sprint out the door for recess. I stand near my teacher's desk waiting for all the students to leave and when the room is silent, Mrs. Russell says,

Coming to a new school from a different city usually is a pretty nerve wracking experience, but Reece White, Junior, has fit into Topeka High like it’s no problem.

The first day at my new school was strange. I didn’t know anyone. I went up the creaky staircase to my classroom. My teacher entered the room. The woman’s name was Mrs.son . She was a strange teacher. She almost looked possessed. Her eyes were huge and dark as blood. Her voice was low and mysterious. She gave us a unexplainable item.

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.

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 up to Boca Raton Elementary School all I could think of was, wow I’m about to enter this school and start my field experience. It’s all I ever wanted to do and it was finally coming true. I was so nervous, yet so excited. I didn’t know what to expect, were the kids going to like me, would I be any help in the classroom? Mrs. Vickers made me feel so welcome and from the start started telling me everything that was planned for the day. She taught first grade and has only been teaching for five years. While teaching, she was obtaining her masters degree at FAU.

I remember waking up that morning feeling rather pleasant. That was until I remembered it was Monday. I really didn’t want to go to school that day. I was in second grade and already wanted to graduate. I thought I was done. Nothing was ever fun at school it seemed. There was a girl in my class named Vanessa that always seemed like to make my life miserable, her hair was absolutely gorgeous. Ringlets of chocolate brown that shined down her back. It made me sick . She’d always glare at me and make rude comments that got on my nerves. However, there was something that wasn’t all bad at school and that was my teacher. She handed out candy to everyone just about everyday. And she always had a big smile on her face. She was my “protector.” Mrs.Armstrong

Jones was my first grade teacher and for the first couple days of school, I thought we would get along nicely, that is until I started to notice hostility towards me. I did not understand what I did to deserve such treatment when I tried my hardest to be the best student I could be. Mrs. Jones had done many things over that school year that I did not approve of but there was one occasion that I felt she went overboard with her actions. It was Father’s Day and every student in the class was making their gifts and I was the only student in the classroom who was not participating.