“Rinda, please read the next paragraph for us,” asked Mrs. Wright. Feeling my ears and face turn stop sign red with the sense of the walls closing in, I began to read aloud. “Ppp, puh, puh,” I stuttered. Mrs. Wright sternly announces, “Photograph.” In my monotone voice, I repeated her and continued on with the rest of the paragraph, which bared less challenging words for a second grader. She then asked me what I thought about the paragraph that I finished reading. I told her and the whole class, “I don’t know.” Really, I did not comprehend the words that I was calling out. The snickering that I heard seemed amplified all around me, sinking deep into my chair, I prayed she would just move on. She did move on to her next victim right …show more content…
Yes, they would poke fun at me if I misspelled words or wrote about my love life. That alone was reasoning to write a well-organized letter. The day Mr. Peters read a letter written to me, aloud, was the day I realized how important it is to make sure what I write conveys an accurate message. He read, “I want to have you come for a long time and maybe dinner. How about meeting at the fair around 6pm?” My friend and I died. Everyone had fun with that letter for several months. I believe that event impacted both of our writing skills and revealed how important it is to make sure the message that one wants to convey is being interpreted the way it is intended. I managed to get through grammar school with the basic necessities required to graduate. I was not one of those kids that had interactive parents that read to them as a child, and I was not pressed to go to college. I joined the workforce right after high school. I had a very strong work ethic, knowing that I had to work very hard to climb the latter in order to gain financial stability. Within that hard work was the ability to communicate with my superiors and my subordinates. I will never forget, or want to relive the day one of my coworkers sent an email addressed to several us within the department. It was the day I committed to re-reading everything and carefully articulating everything I wrote or spoke. It went something like this,
Miss Caroline is a brand new teacher and has been trained to teach in a certain way. When she finds that Scout’s premature reading ability disrupts her teaching plan she has no idea what to do with her, and tells Scout not to read at home anymore. ‘Miss Caroline told me to tell my father not to teach me anymore, it would interfere with my reading.’ This shows how society is oblivious to individual situations and this can cause achievements to be frowned upon.
During this observation I observed a young girl who we will call “Kayla” she was working on her daily journal. I asked the teacher if it would be okay if I asked “Kayla” to tell me a story about her journal page and then have her act it out with a few friends the teacher was actually very excited about this. So when I asked “Kayla” to tell me a story about the time she and her family went to the beach she was super excited I told her I was going to write it down so we could act it out later.
As I am walking down the hall to Ms.Johnson’s room, I see something different. There is a sub today. I just really hope she isn’t as mean as she looks. When I walk into the classroom I get my folder and go to my assigned seat to start my “do now”. When the teacher walks in she says,”Everyone sit down and don’t make a noise unless you want a step!”
Then I went to language and sat down next to Makenzi, Taylor, and Itzel. Makenzi gave me a piece of gum and the rest of class consisted of reading a stupid story. Then Mrs. Morrone told us our homework which was a work book page. 10 minutes after that she dismissed us and I stopped at my locker. I opened it with ease and took out my science textbook and workbook. I sat down next to Taylor and we talked about our science fair project, which is due in January. All of a sudden, Mrs. Dainton screamed out, “Ah, a spider!” The whole class laughed and screamed. Mrs. Dainton took off her black shoe and tried to hit the spider, but she missed. She aimed again and finally hit it. She told us to quiet down and do our homework, we didn’t. Makenzi continued to laugh and make jokes. “Makenzi, come here,” yelled Mrs. Dainton. Makenzi didn’t so she got a referral. When Makenzi left, the class quieted down and continued working. Mrs. Dainton quietly dismissed us and I stayed because that’s where I have advisory. I worked on homework, and when I was done I read my book. The book I’m reading is called “After Eli”. The bell rung, I put up my chair, and I
I could not read a sentence until I was in third grade, two to three full years behind my average peer. In addition to being hopelessly behind in both reading and mathematics, I had terrible experiences with bullying. The combination of poor academic performance and social issues was deadly to my ability to learn. It took a year and two teachers who were incredibly dedicated to my individual progress to catch me up to my peers. And that was all I needed--two teachers who noticed and cared--to begin my work towards an eventual Ivy League education
Lavenders’ ESL class, she decided that it was time for me to attend regular classes. I was so afraid, not because I would not be competent in the classes, but because I did not think I was ready for a full emergent in the language. I was competent and knowledgeable on the subjects assigned, Geography, Math, Science, but English? I was just completely in a mortified stage. Would I understand the teacher, classmates? Would I be able to speak clearly enough, so they would understand me? That weekend, before I was to report to my first all-English class on Monday, I did not sleep nor could I eat anything thinking about that moment. Monday morning I walked into Mr. Garfield English classroom. Mr. Garret was aware of me been assigned to his class; he was standing right at the door. When I came in, the first thing Mr. Garret did, was to ask the class to be quiet for a minute. He then proceeded to introduce me to them. I had never felt such a panic as I did at that moment. I was sweating, quivering; I felt a thousand eyes just staring at me. Mr. Garret quickly noticed my somber demeanor and immediately asked me to have a seat. I am sure he thought I was going to have a panic attack, and I’m not sure if I wouldn’t have if he did not step in quickly and asked me to have a
With every new school, there seems to be the “perfect” correlating curriculum. With every school, there seems to be some kind of underlying issue. Whether it is tuition, teachers, curriculum, or even the school itself, The Knewest of the New will be the best school in history. Community will be a basic necessity as well as passionate teachers. The Knewest of the New strives to instill creativity, passion, and determination into the young minds of the future.
I felt the eyes of the other students burning holes through my skin. There was no escaping from reading in front of class, not this time. My voice stuttered, my palms sweated, and my face turned red as I looked at the blurred words on the page. I tried and failed to make sense of the book in front me. I wished, I was invisible.
At 1:00 p.m. I entered into Evoline C. West Elementary school on Thursday, July 12 2012 for an interview with Mrs. Yolanda Lawrence. As I entered the classroom, I was greeted by Mrs. Lawrence, the head teacher in this classroom. Mrs. Lawrence has no assistant at this present because of it being in the summer. After I entered into the classroom, the entire class welcomed me with “hello Ms. Flournoy”. It made my day to see all of those smiley faces greeting me. This was a 2nd grade classroom which consisted of 17 students of which 8 were girls and 9 were boys. This interview and observation was a total of 2
Bartels, Eric. “My Problem with Her Anger.” Writing and Reading Across the Curriculum. 10th ed. Eds. Laurence Behrens and Leonard Rosen. New York: Pearson Longman, 2008. 328-333. Print.
I’m sitting within my petite Barbie dollhouse when suddenly I hear a slam at the door. I immediately stand up from my pink chair and sprint to the front of the house; it’s my older sister who has arrived from elementary school. From the second she would step foot in the house I would yell at her, “It’s time to read!” after a few eye rolls she would finally squat beside me and read a Dr. Seuss book. The way the words would just roll off her tongue so smoothly made English look so effortless, however, when she handed me the book for me to read I didn’t know where to begin, all that came out of my mouth was gibberish. I would make up my own words, not even knowing what they meant but for some reason, it was satisfying. As I continued to
English 101 has helped shape my writing in so many ways. I have grown and became more confident in the skills I portray. In-class workshops helped me to receive feedback and new ideas from my peers. My view of English has changed drastically for the best. Along with my writing skills my reading and critical thinking skills have also improved. I learned the importance of using ethos, pathos, and logos. Putting text in dialog has been a struggle for me in the past but I now have a better grasp on it after taking English 101. I’m happy I had to take English 101 because it has helped prepare for not only English 102 but my other classes as well.
Going through life we learn and grow differently in literacy. As a young child, I started off my reading by looking at pictures and then grew into more difficult literacy. Trying to comprehend how much reading would impact my life in the future when I was little, was something I never understood. Being in high school now, I have learned how much reading and writing would impact me and how many opportunities it could provide for me. Since I was that child who could have cared less about my literacy, I soon became the child that got so worked up if I wasn’t as superb as others in reading. Throughout my childhood, my literacy has had its ups and downs, but now being in high school I have worked hard in my literacy which has allowed me to take
I sat in the very back of the classroom shielding my face with any book that was in sight. That way wouldn’t get called upon to read, but I guess my camouflage of books wasn’t good enough. I was assigned a part in the book to read and I could tell you, I was not happy. As we began to read I could see that my character’s part was starting to inch closer and closer. My heart started to beat out of my chest and the more my throat started to knot up. I was having second thoughts about even coming to school that day, but as I began to read, I started to get more into the book. It began to catch my interest and from that point on I started to realize it was more than just reading a book word per word. There was more to the story than what the paper full of writing would
Suddenly, there was a hush in the room. The teacher had asked someone a question! I tried to seem casual as I glanced up to see if I was the unlucky person who had been called upon. My heart jumped and then I realized that the teacher was looking at the person to my right, waiting expectantly for an answer. I stared at the girl also, as if I was truly interested in whatever ramblings might come out of her mouth about the dead general and his battle. I felt my face grow warm with a slight blush as I became embarrassed for her and her inability to answer the question. She must have been paying as much attention to the lecture as I had been. Finally, she was able to formulate a less than mediocre answer that satisfied the monotone voice at the front of the room and the lecture resumed. Another glance back at the girl and I saw the cell phone palmed in her left hand down by her side. She had been text-messaging someone instead of paying attention!