Natasha Narrative

My first day of the second grade, I knew no one except the teacher and my younger brother. Kindergarten and first grade had been easy enough, but I was scared of the upcoming year. The only thing I knew about being the new kid was that it hadn’t panned out too great for Addie from the American Girl books. Mrs. Henson’s class was fairly quiet throughout the day, for most kids were nervous or tired. We neared the end of the day and I was ecstatic over the fact that hadn’t made a complete fool of myself. I hadn’t met anyone yet, but I thought that that would be a challenge for another day. Unfortunately, that’s not what Mrs. Henson had in mind. She sent us all out to recess with a grin plastered on her face and with me practically kicking

Natasha Romanoff was raised inside of the USSR’s Red Room. Her handler, and saviour, Ivan Petrovitch took her to Department X, there she entered the covert Black Widow Ops program. She was trained in the art of espionage and quickly became one of their best agents. The growing threat that Natasha posed to national security put her on SHIELD’s radar. Hawkeye was sent to eliminate her, although he ultimately made a different choice and recruited her.

I was about to face my greatest challenge in my new life. How to fit in with people in middle school. Arriving in America was already hard to adjust, what more can it be with my school life. It was in August when my school started. I was already nervous, and I haven’t even step foot from this mysterious school that I’m about to spend 2 years of my life.

On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade

It was the year 2008, I had just graduated from St. Michael’s School located in Los Angeles, CA. This year was quite exhilarating for me also scary because I was going to attend an all-girls high school. Los Angeles was my birth place also a place where I called home. One day, I came home to hearing my parents talking about moving to Mississippi. I remained devastated, not only we were moving to the south, I’m moving away from childhood friends. I was worried I wouldn’t see them again and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to make new friends in Mississippi.

When I lived in North Carolina in 2012, I lived in a small school within a tight nit community. From day one I felt as though I didn’t belong, and the ones who made me feel most out of place were my teachers. My teachers told me to leave and go back to Maryland because if i stay I would fail. I couldn’t believe teachers would say that I was so shocked. My teachers rarely attempted to help me with my work as if I was unteachable because I didn’t learn as fast as everyone else.

For years after my relocation across the country, I was neither accustomed to New York life nor did I feel at home. I did not fit in. I blamed the move from Arizona to New York the reason that I could not fit in but, deep down, I knew this was not true. I did not fit in even back in Arizona; I was attached to the place solely because all my childhood

Walking into Booth Middle School on the first day of seventh grade, all I wanted was a friend. I cared little about whether they would make an impact on my life; as a newcomer to Peachtree City, I was open to befriend anyone. Within the first week, I met Annabelle. I was so preoccupied with the excitement of having a new friend that I was unaware of how greatly she would impact not only my first day, first week, or first year of middle school, but how vastly she would affect my future.

As any other freshman entering high school it can be a very nerve racking situation. On September 8, 2015 I Chelsea Gonzalez was entering high school in Thurgood Academy Of Learning And Social Change , my mind was going crazy and I didn't know what to expect. I have always asked myself whether high school would be similar to what appeared in movies; people dancing and singing on top of the lunch tables or, was it going to be a 4 horrible school years in which I would never make friends. I clearly remember seeing kids running toward their group of friends, as I walked down the lunchroom. My hands were sweating and it felt like a million butterflies in my stomach. The room was filled with cries of laughter, kids running back and forth asking each

The poem “Myth,” written by Natasha Trethewey, is a remarkable example of modern poetry that carefully follows form, differentiating itself from the popularity of free verse. The specific form that “Myth” carries is that of cancrizans, which is a form that consists of twelve lines that occur once, and then repeat again in reverse. Essentially, the composition moves up to a central point and then moves back to where it began. Considering that cancrizans were most commonly seen in the sixteenth and seventeenth century, I find it interesting to see it find relevancy through a poem that has quickly become one of my favorites.

Starting the day started off by waiting in my seat a 3rd-grade classroom at River View Elementary taught by Mrs. Course. Surrounded by the same people every day waiting in agony to get called out of the classroom. It was thoughtful of the teachers to let me leave almost every day, so I could gain help with reading during the time everyone else was reading with the teacher. Although leaving early every day left me wondering if anyone notices. The teacher walks up to me and says “Shaylee it’s time to go.” After that worry, the other 3rd graders will notice I abandon the classroom seeps into my thoughts. The volcano of questions starts to explode, creating inquiry thoughts of “What if they make fun of me?”, “Where did you

As a kid, I always felt like I was on the wrong side of the fence. Even into my early adulthood, I still felt a sense of otherness and invalidity. Over the last three years, working at Ruskin Elementary School has allowed me to recognize all the teachers in my life who have never given up on me. I don’t always feel like I deserved the interest they took in me, but their selfless patience and love for teaching gifted a once, lost kid, a sense of confidence, value, and worth I never thought I could have. More importantly, the last three years at Ruskin have exposed me to the concrete disparities deeply embedded within our education system. Those who our society often paints as nuisances and burdens have been painted as such since birth. A child

Her door was always locked. Perhaps out of suspicion that someone might feel the need to kill her in her sleep, or maybe it was her subconscious impulse to cling onto any privacy she could get? She never knew the answer herself. She did know that she demanded no one come knocking on her door without her consent, so when she heard a fist rapping outside her room she jumped up with a fully loaded gun, finger on the trigger. The rapping didn't stop until she unlocked the door and aimed her pistol; she found Clint on the other side carrying a small bouquet of roses with a card set atop.

At times in life there comes something called change. In my opinion, I was not a big fan of change. You cannot imagine how I was feeling when my mother announced that we were moving. It was the middle of my sixth-grade year, I was feeling countless emotions, none that could be explained at the moment of the announcement. The main thing on my mind was school; my friends, my outstanding teachers, and the environment. All things I had left behind. All I could think about was, “How will I ever adjust?” I knew exactly what was to come, I knew exactly what I was going to become, an outcast. There were numerous of ways on why I was feeling this way, but

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.