My Life At A Public School

I am from a middle-class family from Nepal. I never had an opportunity to go to private school because my parents couldn’t afford tuition fees of a private school. However, my parents’ weak financial condition didn’t stop me from getting an education from a public school. There were few public schools funded by the government and they were not as good as private schools. I went to The Rising Village School, which was better than other public schools. Most of the public-school lacked good buildings, quality teachers, quality teaching materials, diverse courses, and they are overcrowded.

To know how much I have changed over the years, you should know how I was before I went to public school. I was a sheltered homeschooler, and I had very bad social skills. My parents knew this and that is part of the reason I’m at Remington. The other part is because math sucks. So let me start from the beginning of the story.

Now let’s quickly close this protracted (slide rule scaled) essay by skipping over the gaping and barren caldera that is my Public School education, where I studiously avoided the pre-med Math and Science track - since I don’t plan on becoming a doctor or a mathematician, in favor of Castle’s (almost but not quite) nationally recognized Media Arts Program - since I do plan on pursuing the Arts, diving deep into the (Liberal) Arts and Languages - Pidgin, Spanish, French, English & Writing classes, to emulate the trail-blazing trajectory of my older (and similarly math-phobic) sister Maria, so like her I too might procure a Kenyon Film degree and secure my fame and fortune and everything that goes with it - I thank you all (and one day The Academy)

Spending time in Ms. Gibson’s 1st grade class at Birney Elementary School in the Long Beach Unified School District presented many fascinating learning opportunities. Prior to my experience at this school, review of the STAR report and the School Accountability Report provided interesting background information on the school. While background information set a certain expectation at a school level, it did not offer any insight into my classroom experience. Consequently, I did not have any expectations on what I would learn by working with an experienced educator. Even though I did not have any specific expectations, I did learn a few tips on classroom management and teaching that I plan to take forward. Additionally, my early fieldwork experience assisted in helping me discover my weakest areas in respect to teaching, to focus on in my education.

It’s been about three months since we’ve moved to Phoenix after the situation with Billy Deel. Grandma Smith died but Mom didn’t tell us anything about it and we’re living in one of her old houses now. The house is huge with fourteen rooms, Brian and I counted them as soon as we got there. We even have a backyard with orange and palm trees! Our neighbors are mainly Mexican and Native American people living in houses turned into apartments.

The year I was born, my parents left the educational woes of Buffalo City Schools and fled to the rolling hills and small town life in our tiny village of East Aurora, New York. The only house I have any recollection of is situated on a few acres of forest with a trickling stream meandering its way around the property. This setting was my first classroom and nature was my first teacher.

I spent one semester in public school during my freshman year (2013), where I experienced a great deal of bullying and harassment. The bullying prevented me from having the educational experience and environment I needed, especially while I was struggling with my issues at home as well. Because of these factors, my family made the decision that temporarily homeschooling would be the best for me. Even when I returned to public school, I was not given access to the course load I desired. Repeated attempts were made to enroll in more Honors and AP courses, as well as more dual enrollment classes, but the school administration was not willing to help me pursue my college preparatory path after I returned from home-schooling. However, I view my

“Can we talk about moving to Minnesota?”, my father would ask. “I don’t want to, ” I’d always responded. This lasted for four years, my father always looking towards the future, my future, but never willing to press me towards the opportunities he saw. I had friends, an expansive yard where I could play, take pictures, observe the wildlife, a quaint home in a quaint neighborhood attending a quaint school in northern Mississippi, and each time the question came up, a feeling of fear welled up as I thought about how different it would all be, really the complete opposite: a rural home to a suburban apartment, a school with fewer than a thousand students for grades K-12 to one quadruple the size, a world with friends, one without. Eventually, after my eighth grade year, I let in to my father and allowed logic to clear the emotions that

My story starts seventeen years ago when I born in a small town hospital in Rensselaer Indiana. I was the offspring of farmers, educators, 4-h’ers, and Purdue graduates. At a young age, I discovered I lived an abnormal life of that of my friends. I lived fifteen minutes from the nearest school, and all four corners of my house were surrounded by corn. I was living in what we called “nowhere.”

The significant event I am about to share is about my transition from going to a public school my whole life to suddenly switching to a private school named Brampton Christian School. The following story mostly involves me, and a little bit of my sister. At age four, I started school at Sir Wilfred Laurier Public School, where I made the first few friends of my life. I graduated in grade six, and headed onto middle school, at William Grenville Davis Sr. Public School, an opportunity to make new friends. Near the end of grade eight, we had a huge friend circle and we were all looking forward to going to the same high school (Turner Fenton SS). A couple days into summer, all of a sudden, my mom’s friend recommended her BCS, telling her she could

I have spent my entire life stuck in the South. My sister, Alyssa, and I were both born in Mount Airy and have lived here our whole lives. Even when my family went on a vacation, whether it was towards the beach or the mountains, we never left the south. I attended kindergarten through the twelfth grade in this town, having been homeschooled for the first four years. Even when I graduated from high school, I didn’t go far, as I enrolled in a college in Dobson.

Going to a public high school you meet all kinds of people. In my junior year of high school I met a boy my age, Asyln who failed a year. He mentioned complex trigonometry one day and I asked him how he could have been held back, he responds by telling me, “I don’t have the books like you, I don’t have two parents like you, and I don’t have money like you.” So I tutored him. I saw him learn and grow and I loved it. Similarly I fell in love with Columbia’s Harlem Tutorial Project, taking the time to tutor young children makes an enormous difference to them. Many kids are disadvantaged and lending my hand and forgetting about the rigor of college to give back to our community is

I always struggled with school as a kid, I never wanted to go and I felt as if I was completely clueless because I didn't understand what was being taught. My mom soon realized I wasn't getting the help I needed with my education and pulled me out of public school to be homeschooled when I was ten. I then found out that I loved learning and wasn't as capable at school as I thought I was. I stayed home schooled until I was a junior in highschool. Because of how long I was homeschooled my parents thought it would be difficult for me to transition into public school again, but after moving to lyman Maine they agreed to let me give it a try since the school in the district was on the smaller side, so I started at Massabesic High School in September

I tried to hold back the tears. Thankfully, none of my friends were paying attention, so I slipped into another room to compose myself. My eyes watered as I re-read the email to confirm the news. Sure enough, it read, “I regret to inform you that you were not selected by the committee to attend the 2015 session.” I couldn’t believe it. My friends had told me “everyone” was accepted to Mississippi Governor’s School. I submitted a quality essay and resume. Why didn’t they want me? What was wrong with me?

When I arrived to America though, my expectations were altered. I thought in America it would be even more diverse and easier to get along with other races because they are from all around the world. I got along well with everyone in elementary school when I was little so I assumed it would be similar in high school. But it wasn’t exactly true. When I first began attending the public school I got along with people but I realized that I was in a group full of Asians. All my friends were Asian and I didn’t hang out with anyone from a different race. This was very uncanny—I didn’t even mean to but it ended up that way naturally.