Personal Narrative Essay: Penny Pepperstein's In The Home

As I sat in my fourth grade English class listening to my teacher tell me "you have a book report due in just two short weeks" and I thought to myself how am I ever going to do this? I have never been a good writer and I have no idea where to begin explaining the book "Little House on The Praire" and presenting it in front of the class without being embaressed as all get out.The day went on as I thought about it more and more the bell rang. I ran out to my mom's car and stated "Mom I have a book report due in just two short weeks and I cant do it. She said "why not honey" I said " Im just not s good enough writer" She said " yes you are and yes you can and you will do a fantastic job at it. That is when I realized I am a writer.

On Monday 6/29/2015 Sgt. Alexander and I was dispatched to the Hostess House located at 6741 Highway 70 in reference to 2 subject, Mr. Burnette and Mr. Jacobs that were renting room 251 and had outstanding warrants.

The winter formal was approaching fast like dark clouds before the rain hits. Frustrated, I slammed the phone down on the phone receiver. Looks like my make-shift girlfriend couldn't go to the dance because her dad said I just wanted to score. To make sure we had no off-campus interactions, he was going to make her go to family night at Shakey's Pizza that day.

Finally I have escaped. I was critical about escaping at first but now I know that it was the right choice to make. I escaped with Mary Ingles, a fellow captive. We escaped while on an expedition to find salt away from the village. Mary says we are going home, but I have no home anymore. I was the only survivor of the raid. However, Mary is a kind person and says that I could live with her family. Poor Mary she has had even worse than me she has lost all her children to the Shawnee. I feel very fortunate that I survived my captivity at all. Some of our fellow captives were even burned alive by the indians. I am lucky that I gained their respect by running the gauntlet. Mary and I escaped because they let us go out into the woods to forage

The Festival return to Greenfield, MA after being in Turner Fall, MA for a couple of years. I had never been in the Art Block, but found one of their stages The Wheelhouse one to be inmate setting like you what you might find in a coffeehouse. I heard Julia Cira sing on that stage and she had a beautiful voice. One that I like much better than Rosie Porter. It's just a good one to have for ballads. Its a strong one. She plays an electric guitar as well as sings. She was accommodate by a man on drum set and another young woman on an electric guitar. That woman played it well. I listen to her sing a couple of songs and she sang beautifully each time. According to her, They were doing full on rock songs and they sound like very nice quality

The house was long, white, and had blue shudders. I could always pick out which set of windows out front peeked into my bedroom because of the messy off-white paint stuck to it after years of never being touched up. Inside, so much more was going on than the typical all-American home lead outsiders to believe. Confusion, growth, fear, and lots of aluminum cans.

The night had some very special moments when Eric Bazalian joined the group to a rousing ovation for “Time After Time,” “Yeah Yeah,” and “ True Colors.” His exuberance accompanied by a infectious smile captured the fans and he blew us away on the sax, guitar and his signature melodica. We also were treated to a full night of Bob Hyman (Hooters) on guitar along with Bette Sussman on keyboards, William Whitman on bass, Scooter Warer on drums and Keith Mak on guitar. A fine band who Cindy conducted like a symphony orchestra while dancing strutting, jumping and

I woke up on a warm sunny Saturday morning and went down stairs and called my friend Joey Gliech and said “Today is the day!”

Things changed quickly in Ashley Brawley's house when she smelled smoke while she was blow drying her hair, but the burning smell wasn't coming from the bathroom she was in, and it didn't have anything to do with her hair.

I left my radio in the back room in was most likely with the volunteer who was covering for me. He yelled at me to "get up" and told me lets talk in Joshs' office (which was a few steps away). Daniel storms in Joshs' office, turns on the light and sits down in the office chair in front of the desk with his arms crossed and a sticky note in his hand. I follow him and prop the door open with the door stop is I say "lets keep the door open it's hot in here." The real reason I did this was because I was extremely uncomfortable. He then yells, "Do you want to tell me where you have been?". I was standing in the door way, not completely in the room when I told him that I met with HR. He asked very angrily who I got permission to leave from and then stated that I left my post without permission.

I HAD BEEN ASLEEP QUITE SOUNDLY FOR A COUPLE HOURS, WHEN I WAS AWOKEN BY AN ALL TOO FAMILIAR SOUND. IT SEEMED LIKE EVERY TIME MY BRAIN REGISTERED CERTAIN NOISES - EVEN WHEN I WAS DEEP IN SLEEP, IT SENT OFF A PANIC TRIGGER THAT FLOODED THROUGH MY MIND. THIS WAS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE TIMES.

A few years ago, a friend of mine named Angela, invited me to her family’s Thanksgiving. The invitation was offered for the sole reason that she did not wish to be alone with her cousin, who to her and to her parent’s was a corrupting influence. An agreement was struck and my mother and I drove to the camp where it was to be held and sojourned for the night. Upon our arrival it was just Angela’s immediate family and us, and even when her cousin arrived, we avoided her. However, in the morning the situation changed. Not only had Angela’s friend, Christian, who I was not expecting, arrived, but Angela’s parents convinced Angela to spend time with her cousin. This transmuted the entire dynamic of the environment.

Out of the two options, I would choose to be like Jill Price. I would much rather be able to remember everything then forget something every seven seconds. If I were to be like Clive Wearing, I would not get to live my life to the fullest. Could you imagine answering a question, then completely forgetting what the questions was. Don’t get me wrong there are some things in my life that I wish I could forget, but sometimes you just have to face it. However, in Jill Prices case she doesn’t have a choice. Price mentioned that there are scenes that are constantly playing in her head from her memories from the years. Which can be a blessing, but also a curse at the same time. However, if I had a choice, I would much rather remember everything then

Today, was a crazy and long day. This week I am only teaching Math, Daily 5, and Social Studies. During Daily 5 today Mrs. Haberman the principal came into observe me. I went through the interactive lesson before class, but I should have looked over the directions a little bit better. I tried to put the incorrect word into the box, and Mrs. Vavra told me that I needed to make sure I knew what it was asking me to do. I can’t believe I let this happen especially since Mrs. Haberman was in there. I was nervous about her coming in already and now I am nervous to see what she has to say about the lesson. It was not my best lesson by far and of course it had to be the one that Mrs. Haberman was observing. I personally I think the problem was that

All I remember is running through the halls trying to find the closest closet or classroom with Debra when suddenly I tripped over her foot and everything goes black.