My First Birthday Party At A Montessori School

William D. Tammeus, a journalist, once wrote that “You don’t really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around – and why his parents will always wave back.” This quote beautifully paints a picture of the natural love present between a parent and child. However, sometimes this love becomes obscured and a disconnection occurs that prevents the parent from empathy. The stories “Two Kinds, and “The Rocking Horse Winner” show that a parent’s lack of empathy impacts the child’s search for the self in the following phases: first, the search for the self is stunted

I was kidnapped. The men stole me from the toy section in Wal-Mart. Said they’d buy me a Barbie. They just had to find my mother, is all, so she could give them permission. I told them she’s shopping and that I know exactly where she is. When I realized they weren’t wanting to go in that direction, I got scared and tried to run. But they were strong. They gripped me a pulled me and told me they’d kill my mom if I screamed. Their grips on my wrists tightened as

One night a young girl named Lily Foster is left alone for the night in her very large country house, while her parents drove out of town for a party. This was fine with Lily especially since she had her faithful dog, Scout, and her cell phone. Finally, her parents said, ‘’Be safe and don’t go outside.’’ Lily gave them a hug and said, ‘’Of course and have fun!’’ Once her parents drove off in their car, she made herself something to eat and sat down at the kitchen table.

How could this little girl be so naive and think this was real? “ Oh sweetie it’s just a game, you won’t be a terrible mom in real life don’t worry,” my mom implored. But I was so emotionally invested that I walked away in tears any ways.

Half my friends laughing, the other half following quickly behind to see what’s going on. In between hanging up the phone with my mom and making it to the bathroom with no one behind me anymore, I realized, wow I’m a spoiled brat who got handed everything and reality came and bit my butt hard. I didn’t really need that sweater. Or the necklace I had bought earlier or even those to die for shoes I was drooling over. With this new sense of maturity, I went and returned all those things I didn’t need. When I got home I walk right into my mom’s room handed her the $250 I had just got back, from all the things I “needed” so badly, and told her,” You know mom, what you said was kind of mean but thanks.” She refused to accept my mom so when she wasn’t looking I put it in her purse later that

Shirley Jackson’s story, “Charles,” is a story about a young boy telling his father stories about a boy who is doing really mean and bad things and is always getting in trouble. The father becomes worried about the influences of Charles to his son Laurie and he wants to talk to Laurie’s kindergarten teacher and parents about Charles. After the first parent teacher conference they can’t find Charles’s parents, so the next teacher conference they find the teacher and ask about Charles, but turns out Laurie is Charles. All this time Laurie was telling her father about herself and how all the bad things “Charles” is doing Laurie was actually doing. Using dialogue and foreshadowing, Shirley creates a theme of how parents don’t know their child as much as they think they do.

I walked silently, my converse crunching on the wet sidewalk. I zipped up my jacket and took a sip of my coffee. I slowly walked towards my school when someone's shoulder slammed in to me. My coffee flew out of my hands, the lid came of as it hit the ground, spilling all over the sidewalk. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance. I hate this small town I thought to myself. When I returned home I arrived to both of my parents sitting at the table. I looked at them with a confused look, “Ava why don't you take a seat,” Father said “we have something to tell you.” I took a seat not saying a word just giving them a confused look. “Ava honey your father got a promotion,” Mother stated “and we are going to be moving to California!” Fireworks were going off in my head thinking of all of the new things I would get to experience.

Imagine getting physically abused by your own mom for many years. This story is about a boy named Dave Pelzer. Dave Pelzer got under fed and abused by his mom. Dave's Mom was as mean as the devil. Whenever his dad came home, she didn’t want him to see her abusing David and comes up with an excuse for why he is hurt. His brothers ignore David so that they don’t get hurt or abused. Dave’s mom calls him “It” and “The Boy” because she says that he is a “bad boy” and doesn’t like him. In the story, A Child Called “It”, written by Dave Pelzer, the main character, Dave Pelzer, demonstrates that in life we should sometimes let go and make the best out of life. In the beginning of the book, Dave was dependent on his parents.

“Birthday Party” by Katherine Brush uses literary devices such as tone, point of view, diction, and sensory details to achieve her purpose.

Soon, both parents came. When the boy's father saw his child, he rushed over to his boy and saying something bad to me. As same as my teacher, she also began to criticize me. She repeated what she had just said to me in front of the boy’s father. She might want to show the father that she was worthy of his “red packet”. My mother also became angry, and she began to complain why I had caused her trouble again. At that time, I felt dizzy and wanted to suicide. I cried out of fear, but no one comforted me. Everyone was looking at the boy, whether he was good. "Why are you crying?” When I was crying, the boy's father said to me, "You might let my son into a concussion! If my son has some problem, I won not let you go!” I only knew that concussion

As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn 't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn 't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the

Looking back at my past, I recall my mother and father’s relationship as if it were yesterday. I am only four years old, small and curious; I tended to walk around my home aimlessly. I would climb book shelves like a mountain explorer venturing through the Himalayans, draw on walls to open windows to my own imagination, or run laps around the living room rug because to me I was an Olympic track star competing for her gold medal; however my parents did not enjoy my rambunctious imagination. My parents never punished me for it but would blame each other for horrible parenting skills; at the time I did not understand their fights, but instead was curious about why they would fight.

“ YOU turned this on? YOU want to turn like your father? That little BRAT!!! YOUR father is a brat, that’s right he doesn’t care if HE hurts YOU, he only cares about himself!!!!” bellowed Grandpa scoffingly, I felt like I was about to cry, but I couldn’t, no I wouldn’t, grandpa doesn’t believe in crying, says it shows weakness (I think it show humanity, but that’s just my opinion),so holding back tears I walked back to the recliner and sat down, wishing that day would

We chased each other in circles until our little legs could not run anymore, with our dad in view from the back porch. The day seemed as if it could never end. Everything was going great; this is until our mom came home. Now, I don’t know about you, but not listening to my mom has never ended with good results. As soon as her eyes beamed to the three of us in the yard, I know we were all in trouble. “Jaycee Sue, Jayden Harold, and Larry Wayne!” were the only words we needed to hear her yell before we ran inside, to her dungeon, aka the

On this particular day, the child had experienced a very rough time seeing her mother leave. The mother washed her child’s hands and guided her to a toy which challenges a child’s sensory processing and fine motor skills, molding and cutting Play-Doh. I began to work with the mother and child, so that she could have an easier transition when her mother decided to leave. We began to mold and cut the Play-Doh, the mother tells her child “I will be back, I love you,” and the child immediately breaks down.