My First Day In School

1.Contact with members of the lower castes always reminded him painfully of this physical inadequacy

Fifth grade 2015-2017. So, this summer a lot has happened. First, I moved three miles away from my old house, which was not that different except for the fact that there are only five other houses on this one street neighborhood. Unlike my old house where there were tons of houses in the enormous neighborhood. Then after all that I switched schools because I had more friends that went to the other school but you never know maybe I won’t have any classes with them. So, you can see why I have every right to be nervous, but I am more excited than nervous for some reason.

I cried and cried but my mom insisted, “You have to go.” I whined back, “ I don’t want to!” Everyone was already in the car ready to go, and I refused to leave my home for eight hours without my mom there with me. I eventually gave in and got in the car with my older sister, and brother.

On a stormy Monday morning, a girl wakes up and barely drags herself out of bed and forces her small feet across the hallway and into the bathroom. The girl steps on top of her step stool and stares back at the mirror. With tired eyes she stares at the dark skin, dark eyes, and dark cornrows covered with her favorite colorful hair beads, looking back at her. She smiles at her rainbow colored hair and shakes her head with a giggle as she hears the beads shake around, going about her morning routine as usual. She brushes her teeth with her Disney princess toothbrush, showers, gets dressed and gets ready for another day.

On August 14, 2015 it was my first day at FHS. My alarm turned on at 6:30 a.m and the sun was shinning through my window, plus the smell of fresh air blew through my window. As, I was about done getting ready, my sister as if I wanted breakfast, she made, french toast with strawberries and bananas on the side. Knowing that the bus was arriving, I asked my sister to drop me off at school, because I was scared and nervous. I honestly didn't know what to expect, for my first day of school.

Fahima woke up before her alarm went off. Today was a big day. It was her first day as a second grader at her new school, East Pennsboro Elementary. She got out of bed, brushed her teeth, got dressed, and put on her headscarf.

I hold back a flood of tears, as I reluctantly walk up the unfamiliar block-like steps of the mustard yellow bus, while waving my mother goodbye. I choose an empty, patched up seat close to the bus driver. I can hear the jumbled up voices of many others on the bus, but I cannot understand a single word. I sit alone with my mouth sealed shut with a lump forming in my throat, and I cannot help but feel like the black sheep of the family. This feeling only worsens as I arrive to school, the building with small hallways, white walls, and the scent of pencil shavings and hand sanitizer. I long to play with the rest of the energetic children, but I stay put as I know I won’t understand them and they won’t understand me.

It’s warm and sunny in Webster, Tennessee. The day is August 16, 2017. To most of the town, it is just another day of the usual life. But to the children, the air is filled with dread. Tomorrow is the day that school starts. The young children are excited to show off all their new school supplies and summer scars. The older children dread going to school and seeing all the people they avoided over the summer. One thing is true for both ages: school is starting and there is nothing they can do to stop it.

When I was young I was bubbly and timid; a kid who tried to be nice to everyone and cause no drama. I always had a smile plastered on my face even if people had ignored me. I had a sense of naïveté to me, an aura of innocence. In the end of third grade I had been excited for summer, and all of the trips that would fall within it, but as we know, summer doesn't last forever. Before I knew it, fourth grade was approaching and my young self had a bittersweet feeling about this all. I never wanted summer to end, but I could await to see what fourth grade would bring me.

“Unde?” I replied, wondering where he wanted me to go. What I didn’t realize was that he was saying ‘Hi!’, a common American greeting, and not requesting to come with him.

Dinner on the first day was a fest to celebrate our first day at Danville Academy. Though curfew had been set earlier. James, Fred, Shawn, and I were the last ones out the hall. We did not talk much as we were tired. The next week went about the same other than the fact Mr.Jackson picked on almost every kid in the classroom. Someone even started crying in class the middle of the week. It had been about two weeks when the first kidnapping accord.

I stood there firmly and unchanging. My blouse became a sponge as I begged and pleaded not to go inside. "Quiet down Christine! We're in public!,” said my mom. As two women reached for my arms, I grabbed a nearby pole and latched onto the ground. With no success, my concrete feet were being forced beyond the doors and there was nothing I could do. My spirit was drowned out by the roaring inside as the weight of defeat fell heavy on my shoulders. It was my first day of school in a new suburban community and district known as Alief.

It was the first day of school, both tired and excited. I didn’t want to get up, wishing that I

The first day of school, running in school with tears in my eyes, shredded with a wound in my heart because of my parents, dropping me off at school and leave me all alone. It was only me sitting at the corner of the entry door, all I see is strangers, run around screaming, jumping, and chasing playing with balls. Then, I started to wonder around the school, as happy as I was when I see there are foods. I lowered my backpack, reach for a couple of bucks which my mom gave me in the morning if I want to buy something to eat or drink. Afterward, I continue walking.

Everyone goes through hard times in school. It can vary from reading to writing, math to science, or simply just interacting with the people that are in class. In this instance, reading and writing were not strong points for me before third grade and didn’t get much better as the year went along. The teacher that I had was a terrible teacher; she gave me absolutely no help and handed me bad grades without clear reasoning. In fact, I realized how much she hated me, but to this day, I will never know why. That year made me learn being a good student in class, participating and asking questions frequently are rude habits to have in the classroom. Since the teacher and I did not see eye to eye, this made weak points such as reading and writing