My Thoughts On The Classroom

Middle school, when that word pops up in one’s head, it’s a sudden reminder of dreadfulness, broken promises, regrets, first crushes, and last but not least, learned lessons. Another morning had brought another school day. Seeing familiar faces and teachers I just wanted to get through the day with no hassle, but that’s not always the case. At least it wasn’t for me. Making my way through the extended halls and walls that seemed to enclose upon me, I felt nothing more than like a chained prisoner. The bell rung and I remained seated in my class, encompassed by boxed, outdated computers and rusty white walls, I felt

After a long day of yearbook signings and other “farewell activities,” the bell rang, marking the end of my last day of middle school. I said goodbye to my friends and teachers and stuffed the last of my books and supplies into my already full backpack. As I walked down the main hall for the final time, I laughed at how long the hall had once seemed and how short it felt now. With the anticipation of summer building in me, I walked faster and faster, almost running toward freedom, but when I reached the door marked “Chorus- Mrs. Vermillion,” I couldn’t resist the urge to stop in one last time. The chorus room was always a happy place for me, where the troubles of the school day seemed just a little bit less important. I was fond of every detail, from the loyal old piano to Mrs. Vermillion’s

Red lights, traffic lines, students walking or dragging, I could hardly tell. Today marks the day of my first day of high school without my best friend who may not connect to me blood-relatively but a family in my heart. I thought to myself, what if I can’t find any of my friends? What if I can’t find any of my classes? What if everything doesn’t turn out the way I want it to? Anxiety and panic roll in my body as soon as my mom stopped the car. I hesitated to open the car door, making little movements to even try to get out the car. I waved goodbye and shut the door closed so lightly that I think my mom had to properly shut it again. As I make my way to the front entrance with the gated black fence that shines so dimly, I looked up randomly at the sky, noticing that the clouds appeared very cloudy and immediately assumed that the rain will start sprinkling

Sadness, desperation, and the thought of failure plagued my brain as I went into my second day of Sophomore year in high school. I had grown to dislike school a lot as it felt like all the fun I used to have was slowing diminishing into nothing. As I walked to my next class, I looked down to make sure I had the right room number. I did, it was time for English which I was not looking forward to. But, to my surprise, this English class would change everything

Middle school, when that word pops up in one’s head, it’s a sudden reminder of dreadfulness,broken promises,regrets,first crushes, and last but not least, learned lessons. Another morning had brought another school day. Seeing familiar faces and teachers I just wanted to get through the day with no trouble, but that’s not always the case. At least it wasn’t for me. Making my way through the extended halls and walls that seemed to enclose upon me, I felt nothing more than like a chained prisoner. The bell rung and I remained seated in my class, surrounded by boxed, outdated computers and rusty white walls, I felt helpless.

Summer 2015. The summer of all summer’s had finally arrived. My last one in Carroll County, and I was determined to make it exhilarating. Of course, recollecting all the time’s I had vowed to make each summer the best one yet, I didn’t have much faith in myself. I felt it, though. Something was going to be different. I knew that on August 12th, which was just two short months away, I was going to be walking the halls for the “last-first” time. Scary, right? I mean, for 12 years I had spent every day under micromanagement and all of a sudden, almost as if instantly, reality confronts you.

The month of June came in a rush. Before I knew it the season of senior activities had begun; prom arrived, our senior picnic at the park happened, and graduation practice was held. Yet none of these events could compete with graduation day. The night before June 14th, the excitement of the approaching event continuously nibbled at precious hours of sleep, and for once I couldn’t wait for my alarm to go off. When it finally did, I jumped up out of bed, all ready to start the day. After the time spent to get dressed in the appropriate attire had passed, those who I live with—my mother, brother, and younger sister—had all been ready. My excitement increased then, but I don’t think it surpassed my mother’s own excitement. Practically shoving me into the car to get me on the way to graduation, my mother and I wore a grin the whole way to the Siegel Center, despite my little sister asking a million questions in the backseat, and despite the traffic that had grown with the other graduates trailing behind. With even

Last semester was exceptionally challenging; however, it was extremely beneficial because I had to work harder than any of my other classes before. I think various elements contributed to me being unsuccessful in Nursing 204. My aunt died in March with Lupus and that affected me in a huge on the grounds that she played a big role in my life, since I was a child. I was still in the denial stage and my emotions took over, which caused me to become less motivated in school. I just felt like I had no inspiration last semester and I should not have let my emotions hindered my education. In high school, I generally experienced difficulty taking tests that were not seeking the direct answers, and the Nursing 204 tests were not quite the same as the tests I would regularly take. My procrastination last semester played an enormous role in failing the course. When I initially

It was 9:00 a.m. Arriving 30 minutes early gave me time to get to explore the building I would be spending the next year in. I breathed in the crisp, metallic smell of drywall and aluminum. The school felt new and so was I in a way. It had been over 10 years since I have been in a classroom. How different would it be? Did students still use pens and notebooks? Would I be able to immerse myself in this new digital-dependent society to succeed? Would I be aging myself speaking these fears aloud? There was only one way to find out if my uncertainties and trepidations were true. I grasped the cold handle on the door and stepped into my future.

​The morning was bright and the scorching Texas sun beamed down against my face as I stood frozen, my legs halted by the utter terror of entering this massive middle school and my heart broken by the fact that I recognized no familiar faces amongst the sea of students entering through the front door. The ones that I had fought with, grown with, and ultimately learned to love, the girls and boys that I had seen each and every school day since kindergarten were now five hundred miles away while I was alone, left here to conquer this unknown world on my own.

Working with young children, helping them grow and learn, has always been my biggest passion in life. My philosophy of education has the main focus of knowing that each child that comes into my classroom is unique and deserves a safe and stimulating environment to learn and grow to their full potential. It is essential to create an environment that allows each student to grow physically, mentally, emotionally and socially. In order to create this environment, the most important role I have is to make them feel safe, and to learn about them in all the aspects I mentioned above and really understand all the learning styles within the class. When my students feel comfortable and safe in my classroom they will be able to take risks and share their

I turned up the heat to make sure that the car would be warm by the time my sister stumbled down the front steps of King Philip Middle school. The Autumn air started to turn bitter, and leaves coated the ground so that you could not walk without a symphony of crunches rising from under your step. A gust of wind rushed by, and I was thankful for my car cocoon, which covered me from the coming chills. My hands fumbled with the radio, searching for a “good” song. I heard the bell ring, and watched as adolescents, streamed out of the school bundled up for one of the first times this year. My sister slid into the car, and with her came a gust of cold air.

Sunlight is beaming through the window as the alarm clock beeps louder and louder. The first day jitters have begun. Just a little over two months ago, fourth grade came to an end for Emily and summer vacation began. But, where did the summer go? Long days spent at the beach buried in the sand; seem like a distant memory. Fifth grade has become the reality and being a middle school student is still sinking in.

My mind is still processing all of the ideas and challenges presented by George Couros during our most recent institute day this past Friday. After this day of professional development, I feel revitalized, encouraged, and motivated to stretch my teaching muscles and rethink how I incite learning in my classroom. Technology has opened a world of opportunity for us as learners, but as Uncle Ben quips in Spiderman, "With great power comes great responsible."

The first year, the time to prove myself had arrived. Classes, rooms, teachers, and some students were unfamiliar. Eventually, minutes melted into hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. It didn’t take long before my schedule was routine, something of second nature. Humor and happiness were found in the form of my advisory family, where school was transformed into something more than going through the same motions of day to day activity. By the closing point of sixth grade, I was having a hard time letting go of what I’d adapted to. “What’s wrong?” my dad asked when I was getting into the car after being picked up early on the last day. I explained how distressed I was that my first year of middle school exceeded my expectations, and that it had to come to an end. Although his outlook viewed my reason for sorrow as trivial, I didn’t.