Personal Narrative: Locker

According to the National Education Association, at least 100,000 students bring guns to school, 160,000 students skip classes because they fear physical harm, 40 students are killed or hurt by firearms, nearly 6,250 teachers are threatened with bodily injury, and 260 teachers are physically assaulted. These facts are not based on once year, but as every single school day. Could one even imagine what the numbers might look like on scale for a month of school, let alone a whole year? So would starting with searching lockers really be a step to far to try and lower the numbers? Some may think yes due to the school invading the students’ privacy. The majority of people though will say no, doing searches of student’s lockers is not a bad

When we were playing ultimate football inside one of the players threw the ball to one of the sideline players. When he threw it to me for the touchdown I dove for it and caught the ball and got a touchdown. When I fell to the ground Jacob started running to try to stop me from catching it he was trying to slow down so he was basically stomping to try to stop himself. Then he stomped on my hand I yelled in pain Dawson helped me up it hurt really bad and then Mrs Dibbens asked me if I was ok. I said yes because I thought that it was just a little injury and it would be better by my next hour. When I went into the locker room I tried to change but my hand hurt to much. But I managed to do it the hardest part of changing was when I was putting on my shoes. When I left the locker room I was about 5 minutes late to my next period. When I got there he asked Mr. Hatch asked me why I was holding my hand. I told him that Jacob Haag stepped on my hand. I asked him if I could go to the nurses he told me yes and I

I’m walking in the hallway coming back from music class, and I see my best friend Erdem inputting his locker combination. What else would I do but mess him up? He doesn’t do anything, so I do it again, and it’s hilarious to both of us. Then, my other friend Justin comes up to us, and he laughs. We’re all laughing because we can mess with each other and not get mad. I have many friends in Demarest Middle School that I can mess with or be weird with, and they wouldn’t judge or make fun of me. In the past, it didn’t occur to me that I could actually make friends and not be a social outcast in a new school. Well, I did.

The cold steel refreshed my hand as I grasped the handle to enter the phone booth. Inside laid the payphone sitting silent in the claustrophobic room. It had always trapped me when I entered, and created an atmosphere of a jail cell. Luckily, my reason for entering always masked that imaginary environment because it was to connect with others and not to be left alone. Although, on that typical sticky warm Florida afternoon the jail cell surfaced and I felt like there was no escape. I was a prisoner in my own mind; being beaten up by regret and taunted by sorrow. But, as my tears fell and my mind continued to race with grief I grew stronger and my morals shifted molding me along with them. That phone call that day changed my outlook on life

I feel that locker searches are an invasion of one’s privacy. I also feel that through locker searches we would be able to increase safety among schools, campuses, locker rooms and many other places. Lockers are a area where you place a assortment of things in which for some people could include hazardous things such as weapons, drugs, etc. Although all this is at risk I still feel as though lockers should be private. And if one is not to be trusted with a locker why should he or she be issued a locker. I suppose many horrible encounters have led behind the lack of locker searches. Endeavors such as murders, poisons, and maybe even sometimes suicide. So if I were really asked to reevaluate my decision on keeping locker checks private I would

This reminds me of me and my cousin when we got out of lock up a while back. And us coming back and making our own money and trying to change our lives around in a good way. When he says you either with me or against me, that's what i use to say to my friends before i got locked up. But in the end this song sounds alot like whats happen in the past.

“Alright fellas, has anyone else got something to say to Shane Ferguson before he heads off to Mars.” Mr. Wright questions everyone as Shane will be gone from earth forever.

At approximately 5:03p.m. Israel Thomas' Mom came down to Mr. Kimpson's room. When she got there she barged in asking, "What is this?" "Is this tutorial or detention?" Mr. Kimpson stated to her, "This is detention." She said, "Oh no he can't stay for that!" She instructed her son to get his things together so that they can leave. When she asked her son, as he was packing up, who assigned detention, he stated Mrs. Northern did. She then came over into my room and said, "Hey, he can't serve a detention and I would appreciate if you have an issue with my son, you call me." I told her, "Ma'am I sent home the letter to inform you that Israel had a detention and he brought it back signed by you." She said, "Yeah I know I signed it but he can't stay for detention." She then stated that, "I know I signed the letter, but I was suppose to call you but I had a lot going on and didn't have time to call." I told her that the only reason he was allowed to stay was because he had permission from her. She said, "No!" "He cannot stay for detention. In the future if y'all have a

On June 4, I died. Well, metaphorically speaking. Let me rephrase that— I was reborn.

In Cage 15, there was a bald eagle. Regal and upright, imperial and intimidating, it stood on a log, paying me no heed as I scribbled adjectives. A sign beside on the wooden cage beside the barred window called her Spirit and informed the reader why she had been committed to the asylum. She’d dislocated her left wing in 1989.

“The rush of battle is often a potent and lethal addiction, for war is a drug.” This quote is the first thing that flashes across the screen as viewers begin their journey into The Hurt Locker, a critically acclaimed war movie written by Mark Boal and directed by Kathryn Bigelow (Hurt). The quote was written by former New York Times war correspondent, Chris Hedges and it perfectly sets the stage for a story that depicts just how potent and addicting war can be (Corliss). The 2008 movie won six Academy Awards including Best Picture, Best Original Screenplay, Best Director, and Best Actor in a Leading Role (“Nominees & Winners”). The Hurt Locker is an exceptional movie that contains everything one would expect from an award-winning film:

The jails were a different experience for me. They were a lot different then what I expected. I didn’t expect to see a ATM in a jail. It was a cool experience. The jails staff was nice people. The Huntington jail was more advance. The sizes were different. The jails were a lot different then what I expected it to be like.

The gps says “ arrived “ and we are ready for the turn up. As we are looking for a place to park we come to conclusion that there are not any because there were so many cars. There are cars that are beaten up badly. Some cars have no hoods , some cars rear-view mirror are hanging as if someone just drove by and took it off. Finally I spot the perfect place to park and I hear a deep voice yell at me and say “ You might want to park on up the curbs some more because these people around here can’t drive .” I look up and see it was tall lady directing me and thought it was hilarious but I still took her advice. My girls and I hop out the car and head walking down to the event. There was extremly loud music that you could hear even if you were

People have always made me feel like I don’t fit in with them for the dumbest reasons I have ever heard. Some of the reasons were that I was too tall, that I wasn’t what they would consider smart, and, the most personal one, was that I looked like a girl, since I usually had long hair. Those may have hurt me and knocked me down a little bit, but I didn’t stay down. I got up and realized that those people are jerks. Around sixth grade, somebody, that I thought was my friend, stabbed me in the back by telling people a secret that I had confided in them not to tell anyone. Once again, I went for the low blow, and told people that he was gay. This was a Christian school, so the students there saw that as a “bad thing”. I was 12 years old at the time, and looking back, that was probably uncalled for. I had made a decision that I obviously wouldn’t do today, but that’s not an excuse for what I did, neither is her telling my secret to the rest of the school an excuse either.

When I was younger, I can remember my anticipation waiting in line with my family on a warm Sunday afternoon. There were lots of kids around us waiting to walk through the red gates and they seemed to be just as excited as my brothers and I were. When it was our turn at the gate I would stand on my tippy toes and peek my head over the counter to look into the small booth where the smiling lady stood. My face was hit with cool air from the air conditioning as I looked around. The nice lady always smiled and handed me sticker. On the sticker it read, “Fort Wayne Children’s Zoo” and had a lion and some zebras, along with other animals on it. I’d smile and press it onto my shirt. Then, I grab mommy or daddy’s hand and gleefully walk through the gates into the crowd of people.When I was little the Fort Wayne Zoo was a mystical place where I could travel all over the world in a single place, but as I grew up, I have realized that zoos are nothing but an animal jail where creatures are locked up so they never see their true roots or get to feel real natural instincts.