Between reading my IQ test results when I was 8, to winning the American Protege violin competition when I was 12, and finally becoming the Y14 foil fencing national champion recently when I was 13, I was always told from a very young age that I was an exceptionally gifted child. However, being naive as I was then, I let this double-edged sword develop into a type of self-destructive arrogance, that which annoyed the peers around me, and left me to become very lonely. The positive vibe of summer had subsided. Though all my classmates looked forward to the first day of fourth grade ever since the beginning of summer, I felt a form of nausea unleash itself in my body whenever the thought of school unwrapped itself in my mind. School was, in my mind, a place of suppression, where there was the negative connotation of keeping one's head down in order to succeed. It was detrimental for oneself to stick out, but I always did. Hence I hated school, and school hated me as well. However, hate by itself simply does not have the power to separate two parties destined to be together, so the first day of school came nevertheless. The first day of fourth grade for me, was quite an experience to remember. We completed all of the …show more content…
As I was observing the game from the classroom corner, I noticed the true premise of such a game. After I left, my teammates worked together to solve the problems. Even though they lost some points, they were much happier than when they were watching me complete the questions by myself, because they were actively engaged in the competition as well. All I cared about was winning, and I forgot that the point of the game was to have fun, which was an element of the game that I was guilty of taking away from
Melinda’s reaction to the first day of school is awful, because it starts off with her going onto the bus and having others glare at her. Everyone hated her, no one not even her old friends bothered to talk to her. She was all alone. She complains about the school, her friends, and her teachers. She says “ am Outcast”, meaning that she has not been accepted by her classmates, she is being rejected. She says that because non of her friends bother to even say Hi to her, they all hate her. Her fear was that she didn't have friends on her first day, and how people word react to her.
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
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.
From the moment I walked into the doors of Gertrude Fellow’s Elementary School as a five-year-old kindergarten student, I fell in love. I went into each day excited and ready to learn. This passion for school continued throughout my high school and college years. It is part of what drives my love for education. School was always an environment to be myself, explore new things, and to even make a few mistakes. As a young child, I thought everybody felt the same way. I was confused when peers said they hated coming to class, or couldn’t wait to go home. I couldn’t understand why anyone would hate something I loved so much.
Ever since I was little, starting in first or second grade, I was classified as something other than average. A “special” teacher came and took me from my classes once a week, along with some other kids, and here we learned different lessons than we did in normal class. They called this the “gifted” class. These lessons always seemed to be harder than the normal ones, but I liked the challenge. Normal class was always boring to me. Up until middle school, those gifted lessons were the only challenges I had ever faced academically, and even then they weren't much of a challenge. I entered middle school with a sense that I knew everything the teachers would tell me, that I was smarter than everyone else, just because
Fear. As I walked into the huge, unfamiliar building of Gibson Southern High School on my first day of freshmen year, I shook with terror. New teachers, new people, new classes, and a new environment that I yearned to explore, but anxiety filled my body. I had previously attended Haubstadt Community School, where I finally felt comfortable and now everything seemed frightening and different. Although my body told me not to, I forced myself to push through the day with a positive attitude. After all, this would be my home for the next four years.
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.
So…the idea is for the class to win the game each day, but to get the least amount of spleems possible, in the end. PLEASE COMMUNICATE THIS WITH YOUR STUDENTS.
As I think of my best day in school I come to the day when I was in seventh grade. On this day we had planned on a Medieval Times field trip. This was by far my best and most favorite day of school. There are many reasons why this memory of middle school stood out in my memories.
School wasn’t all terror and violence. Sometimes it was almost fun, sometimes part of me didn’t want it to end. Of course there were the bad days where I couldn’t get past number one on a pre calculus assignment or when KJ decides to give us a test the last day before exams, but it wasn’t all like that. There was always homecoming, sporting events, and summer.
Playing the violin has always been my passion. When I was little, I always imagined me playing that specific instrument. My sister who is closest to my age, has a ukulele and I used to use it as a violin when I was like 8. I joined the orchestra in 5th grade at Camas Prairie Elementary School in a portable. In Cedarcrest, the class is also in a portable. When I knew I could start playing the violin, I was so excited and I definitely knew that I was going to sign up, even though I hate performing and having attention on me. It's now my 3rd year playing the violin and I have definitely improved.
So what in the world does this have to do with a reflection of the first day of class? Simply put, it reaffirms the old adage that we become exactly like our parents. When I reached my adolescent years, I hated being
The alarm clock buzzed loudly beside my ear. Feeling like a gong that was being hit repeatedly was placed right beside my head. I sluggishly pulled myself out of my bed and dragged myself to my closet. The words, first day of school moaned ghastly in my head. Summer was uneventful and school was just going to be hell. I picked out an old, worn out flannel and a pair of jeans to wear. Not rushing at all, I struggled to put the raggedy clothes on. They smelt like horrendous lies and rumors. Exactly what this state and my school are built on.
The excitement, the adrenaline is almost too much for a four-year-old to handle the very first day of school. The day in which they will step into a classroom for the very first time. The first day is where everyone can meet their friends and socialize. Unfortunately, for me, I was not a social bird. I knew the first day of class was going to be dreadful; therefore, I did what any patriot would have done during the 1760s, I protested. Angrily I hid under my bed at 6 am in the morning, I was not going to school. After I was found by my mom, I was stripped down from my clothes and put into the depressing clothes of what is known as a school uniform: solid white collar shirt with a dark navy skirt and hideous strap on, black toddler shoes. I was miserable, I wanted to cry, but I was not the emotional type of kid. No, instead I was the I-will-protest-until-I-get-want-I-want-and-if-not-I-will-scream type of kid. My mom, knowing I would scream, was careless of my behavior, she didn't care that I was screaming, yelling, threatening to call the police for the injustice being made, I did not deserve to go to school, but she did not care. I was going to school on the first day because it was my mom’s orders.
I jumped at the sound of my alarm clock very disappointed that the guy I had fallen for, was just in my dreams. As I laid there in my bed I couldn 't help but wonder what I would say if my dream did come true. But just as I began to think, my mother shouted. “Maddison Klintfield, get your butt down here! You are going to be late for your first day at your new school!!” This was always one of the most disappointing sentences that came out of my mother’s mouth. I hated school. I hated having no friends but it is hard to make friends knowing that you will most likely move schools the next year. I couldn 't help but think that this year was going to be better. At least I hope it will be.