My Life With Teachers. I Pushed Past My Mom And Threw My

It would be a story that was passed down from the family, one she made up, or a book that she got off of the bookshelf. Dr. Seuss, Clifford The Big Red Dog any children’s book we had. Looking back on it there was all ways a moral to a story that she read to me. There was never a time that you couldn’t take a good value away from one of the stories. As I moved up in grade level the books started to become deeper and deeper. Throughout school there was always something to read. There was “Dr. Seuss” in elementary school, “The Diary of Anne Frank” in middle school, and “Romeo and Juliet” in high school, Literacy was all ways present in my school life. Throughout all the book reports, and the note taking and analyzing of Shakespeare literature there is without a doubt that my literacy knowledge has grown thanks to learning I have done in school. I feel that we learn to read and write because we have that desire inside to want to succeed and we know that it all starts here with learning to read and write. With all of that being said I say the way in which my literacy skills have developed to this point all started with bedtime stories. I think that this was the first start in most kids life and this is where we learn the basics. A book full of words in which we thought were just pictures and symbols with no meaning to them at all. Soon we learned that words did have meanings and that

I desperately wanted to help her I wanted the woman who gave me life to be happy I wanted her to feel safe. One night I was sitting on my bed with a hot cup of nesquick. My mom was arguing with her boyfriend I decided to pick out a book that my uncle had left for me to read. It was One Fish , Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss. It was my first time ever picking up this book and I wasn’t fluent in english at all so I had a lot of trouble getting through the book. This frustrated me a lot because I knew there had to be a meaning behind these combinations of letters. So I decided to take the book to school. I asked Mrs. Padron if she could help me read the book. She looked at me with an astonished look on her face. She hadn’t really received a request like that before from any of her other students ,but in spite of her confusion she still sat me down and we went through the entire book from cover to cover it took the entire lunch period but In the end I could finally get through at least 10 pgs which was more than I could ever read

I remember the first day I walked into my kindergarten class, I clenched my mother’s hand with all my might to prevent her from letting go. The kids around me, whom I supposed were my classmates, had long let go of their mother’s had and were playing together, and even as a five year old, at that point I felt like an outsider. I pleaded my mom to not leave but my attempts failed as I found myself alone yet surrounded by complete strangers. As I stood in the center of the room while pushing back my tears and eyeing my mother make her way out the door, I heard the teacher call my name. I timidly walked towards the spot on the yellow carpet she was signaling at for me to sit on. I heard Mrs. Ross’s soothing voice but no matter how much I concentrated

As a child, my mother always read exciting books to me for an hour before bedtime. Once a week I would

When I woke up in the morning, my mom had left for work. My dad was singing in the kitchen, banging pots around. I got up, tiptoed down the hall, washed my face. A neatly wrapped present lay on the bathroom counter. It was addressed to me. I stuffed it into my robe pocket, and rushed back down the hall. Under the covers, I opened the package. On the first page of a small, leather notebook, an inscription read: to a writer, love your mother. I never wrote anything in the notebook. I could never think of anything good

The smell of hand sanitizer roamed the classroom and children were running in and out of the maze the desk made. I, on the other hand, remember sitting impatiently in my seat waiting for the teacher to give instruction. I came to the conclusion that the teacher was most likely speaking to the parents and it was going to take awhile for her to get back to us, thence I grabbed the Dr. Seuss book from my overly packed backpack and placed it on my desk and began reading. Suddenly my page grew dark and I felt hot air touch the back of my neck, I turned my head around and there was this tall female figure looking down at me with a colossal smile as white as paper, it was my teacher, Mrs. Hilda. She took ahold of the chair beside me and sat down, I recall she asked me what I was reading and I told her it was my favorite book, “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” by Dr. Seuss. Memories of the conversation with Mrs. Hilda aren’t clear, however, I do remember after school everyday while I’d be waiting for my parents to pick me up from school she would snatch a book from the reading section within the classroom and we would read together. I would read one page as she read the other, and we did this everyday until the last week of

Without questions, my sister and I ascended to the bedroom we shared. Powder Puff pink walls greeted us, but they did not assist in lightening the mood. Tears stung my eyes. After hearing more commotion below, I trudged over to Emma and enveloped her in a hug. To my surprise, she did not push me away like usual. We sobbed quietly in each others shoulders for a while, then separated. Thinking homework could aid in distraction, I grabbed and unzipped my

My own mother was the teacher for this visit. Since it was close to Thanksgiving my mother decided to teach the children a southern cornbread recipe she learn to cook as a child. The lesson took place in our first-grade classroom at University Park Elementary. This was an exciting event for me because I had never actually cooked cornbread. I had grown up watching my mother cook and serve this cornbread, but never actually took the time to learn to prepare it. The biggest I thing, I learn was how to prepare the cornbread and how important it is to share and continue cultural traditions. I could share with my own students something that was dear to my family and friends.

“Wake up Sharry or you’ll be late for school!” my mom yelled. I slowly forced myself to get up and made my way to the washroom. It was hard but I did it. I felt like I had accomplished something big, like winning a gold medal at the olympics. I then got dressed and in a satisfied, proud voice I told my mom, “Lets go”. She held my hand and slowly walked me to school. When we finally got to my elementary

Bong! Bong! Bong! Sounded the cheesey end of the day bell. I was so excited to get out of school. Why? Today was the last day of second grade! . I could go home and take a much needed summer break. I thought to myself as a trotted out to the front of the building. It wasn't that easy though because of all the screaming and rambunctious kids trying to escape the prison also. I finally made it out of the chaos and into the pick/drop off lane. Frantically looking for my mom’s van so I can get away from the school. As I was looking for the jet black van when my pesky sister crept up behind me and started rambling about her day. The van finally pulled over, I lept in the back seat. I was greeted by a hello from both my parents?! That was surprising, usually only my mom comes to pick us up so that was strange. I didn’t think to much of it though because it was the last day which is kind of special. It would make sense if they both came, along with my little sister Natalie who was not in school yet. Anyway as we were pulling out of the parking lot. I looked back at Oakdale for the last time. We just recently moved so I was finishing off the school year. It was kind of sad not being able to see most of my friends that often. Pushing those confusing emotions aside, we started heading back home. Or so I thought.

It was one normal and typical evening, where I was bored playing with my Barbie dolls up in my mom’s room like every little girl usually does. My mom’s room wasn’t too big or too small, the bed was messed up because I had used the covers as a Barbie doll home. I was wearing a yellow shirt along with pink pants. My hair was down and all over the place. I was brushing the Barbie's hair until the main door opened. My cousins Anisah and Muhaddes called my name like they do every time they come over.

I heard my sister yawn from bedroom and then, a thunk and a moment of silence. She must have hit her head on the bed board because the next thing I heard was. “Ow!” She crawled out of bed, rubbing her head. She opened the freezer searching for an ice pack. She grabbed the big one, holding it up to her forehead. “Are you okay honey?” My mom asked, pulling her long curly blonde hair into a bun. It sparkled in the sunlight, looking like golden rays flowing from her head. “Yeah, I just hit my head on the top of the bunk bed.” My sister, Emma said. She looked at me, her eyes glittering and shimmering in the brightness of the morning. “Are you drinking coffee?” She asked with a questionable look on her face. “Yep.” I said taking a big gulp. “We don’t have a lot of time, start getting ready.” My mom said, she looked at me waving her hand as if she was shooing me away. A piece of her golden hair fell from her bun onto her shoulder. “Where are we going?”I asked, confusion rushed through my brain like fire spreading throughout a field of dry grass. I hadn’t paid much attention when my mom was telling me where we were going that day, I was to busy drawing. Besides I would find out the next day anyways so I zoned out listening to my music and paying attention to the girl I was drawing. I realized now that I probably should have because i couldn’t remember where we were going. I smelled coffee, suddenly my mind snapped back to reality, I realize my mom is telling me that we are going

It was a cool and crisp spring afternoon. I was eleven and had just returned home from school, which I despised at the time. I was so excited to play outside with all of my neighborhood friends. So I bolted inside, threw my backpack down, and ran into the garage to put on my lovely pink and blue skates. I then skated down the street about nine or so houses to my best friend Brooke’s house. I rang the doorbell and her mom answer the door. I asked, “ Hey Mrs. Amy! Can Brooke and Madi come out to play?” She replied, “Oh sorry Honey, they are not home right now, they are at another friends house.” I said “Okay, thank-you,” and went on my way. I then proceeded on to my friends George and Elizabeth’s house. I rang the doorbell and their big, slobbery lab came barking at the door. Their dad answered and I asked if they could play. He told me that they were still at school and if I came down later, they could probably play. I said okay, and made my way back to my house. Then I stopped. I came to Aaron’s house and thought to myself, I guess I could ask him to come out and play. So I skated up to his red front door and waited for him to answer. I heard heavy footsteps making their way down a staircase and the door opened up, revealing Aaron. Aaron was kind of the odd one out in our neighborhood, so I thought it would be nice to include him. So I asked him what I had asked the last two people who had shut me down, and he said yes! I finally had someone to play with and I was thrilled.

It was a cold, rainy Thursday, with the rain pelting the window. It was freezing, even though it was the end of summer’s blazing days. My tiny, uneducated brain was ready for my first day of elementary. Little did I know, this would be a very disgusting day. I joyfully woke up to my mom’s calming voice and hopped out of bed without any hesitation. My crazy hair needed to be controlled so my mom willingly sprayed her rat poison in my hair in the small bathroom. I remember seeing her and my sisters face peering through the wide mirror. My mom had surprisingly a look of worry on her face while my sister looked excited. After escaping the tiny bathroom, my little self set off like a rocket to my room to throw on my clothes made at Kohls. I dug into my drawers and found all the clothes my mom ordered me to find. I fit into brown cargo shorts, a white collared shirt, and really high socks. I looked proudly at myself in my closet mirror that definitely needed to be washed. As I grabbed my heavy bag that felt like it was full of weights and swung the door, I laid my eyes upon my dog. She was curious why I was leaving today. I remembered that I wouldn’t see her until the day was over. The fear now hit me. Worry started to flow through my veins as I hopped in my mom’s black Ford SUV.

That next morning my little brother, step siblings and I started to get ready for school. While fumbling with my hair in the mirror I thought to myself, “Hey, I actually had fun. This wasn’t so bad after all. “When the four of us finished getting dressed, we ran upstairs to wake my step mom but she wasn’t there. Maybe she ran to the store or something I thought. About an hour later, I started to get agitated because she nor my dad had made it to take us to school and neither one was answering their phones. Twenty minutes later, my step mom 's sister called the house phone and said she was coming over to take us to school. Finally! I said.