Personal Narrative: Mrs. Giggles And Mr.

I wasn’t sure what our day would entail. I could feel a slight tremor present in my body as I slid behind the steering wheel of the MKZ. Running my finger tips over the leather where the treads to the steering wheel was laced together I contemplated leaping from the car and running like hell. This was a seriously stupid and dangerous thing I was about ready to take part in. Could I do this? My mind wanders to the trunk of the vehicle… What’s back there? How much is back there? Enough to be charged with a misdemeanor…a felony! My heart jack hammered in my chest. Was the benefit worth the risk? Feeling panic setting in I swung my legs out of the vehicle just as Eloy took his seat behind me closing the door. His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror.

I remember falling asleep, but I don’t remember being in a bed. I had fallen asleep in the hall due to my emotional state. My body didn’t need the sleep. My mind did. I’m actually happy I did. It got my mind off all my problems and sorrows for a good while. I sit up, pushing the unfamiliar blankets off my body. I’m in a strange hard bed in a foreign room. Everything around me feels new and alien. This isn’t my dull little prison. This room is slightly decorated with light brown walls and a dresser covered with random things.

As high school freshmen, most kids do not get very excited about walking into their College Preparatory Biology class, but I sure did! Everyday I looked forward to Mrs. Wilson's 3rd period biology lesson because she never disappointed. Mrs. Wilson was a special kind of teacher, she was the type to turn boring lectures into a captivating learning tale and had the gift of making tests enjoyable with her creative illustrations. Yes, you read that right, I enjoyed her tests. One day, Mrs. Wilson presented us with a demanding project; “Okay class, I am challenging you to create the BEST “Bunnimoose.” she announced. As we sat there with puzzled faces, she went further into explanation.

When I was in my sophomore year of high school, I had a music teacher named Ms. Valentine who taught vocal and piano classes. Ms. Valentine was known as the “mean dad” of the vocal department, because she oddly reminded everyone of a dad instead of a mother, I know it’s weird. She never took the phrase I can’t from a student, and she would never put up with anyone’s bullshit. She believed there was no such thing as “I can’t”. I had the pleasure of having Ms. Valentine as my choir director, sadly. Ms. Valentine was known for assigning students to critique boring plays and concerts.

We line up for lunch. Mrs. Price thinks thinks everything’s okay after I gave the sweater to Phyllis Lopez, which made me upset, so I yelled at Phyllis, “You ruined my birthday!” Phyllis ignored me, which made me furious, so I step on her foot. Then she did it back to me, and Mrs. Price sees that and we both get in trouble. Mrs. Price give us a warning, but I decided to calm down instead of breaking down again.

I wanted to sort of touch base with you about my absence as I am doing with all my teachers and basically wanted to offer an explanation so that I don't cause any more frustration, hopefully.

I started off school at a little preschool called Goddard School, Miss Jackie and Miss Karen were the first teachers I’d ever had. We did the usual preschool thing… nap time, snacks, and learning the abc’s. But the highlight of my preschool experience was the Bubble Lady. The Bubble Lady filled a pool with sudsy bubble mix that had a large bubble wand in surrounding the wooden block that was big enough for two people. Riley and I stood on the wooden block as a fragile bubble surrounded us. I still have the picture sitting on my fridge.

When thinking about the neighborhood, school has to come to mind. Mr. Ellis, my third grade teacher, prided himself on educating students. No matter the problem Mr. Ellis would try to help in any way possible, which without a doubt makes Mr. Ellis my favorite teacher. An example of the undying devotion Mr. Ellis shows Other than Everett, the Capital Area Career Center was one of the best schools around Ingham. Understudies could pick any class that fit their field of study. As the understudies work through their class they can acquire school credits which can trade to Lansing Community college or Davenport just to give a couple of cases. Assignments sanctioned us to learn the required information while being able to work at our own particular

Sheer determination and tenacity motivated our parents to build a wonderful life for us in Holland. By the middle of the 1950s, recollections of the horrifying war years haunted them less, while memories of their sensational Indonesian pre-war existence lifted their hearts through difficult times as they continued to adjust to a new and strange land.

On Saturday, August 01, 2015, approximately 239 hours, I was dispatch to Conyers Police Department, 1147 Scott St. Upon my arrival, I met with the complainant Jeanette Higgins. Higgins advised me that her wrist wallet had been taken from the counter top as she purchased her items at Ross, 2203 Ga Highway 20.

I was just emailing you to say that I won't be at the sectional this afternoon for the flutes. Since I got wisdom teeth removed my jaw/teeth have been feeling off and when I woke up this morning they were bothering me pretty bad so my mom figured it'd be best for me to just stay home for the day.

When I was in the fourth grade I could not go anywhere in my classroom and beyond without seeing it. The green book.So now curiosity peaked at the sheer number of students who constantly grasped it in their hands I decided to find out its name, and after stealthy glances at my peers I discovered it was called Diary of a Whimpy kid: the last straw. Now with the information I soon asked my parents for the book and eventually I myself was the owner of the green book. Now with the chance to discover what had enraptured the attention of so many of my peers I eagerly consumed the book and found myself craving more of the story. I soon attained the remaining books and devoured them in a quite greedy manner. But once I ran out of my hunger began to

I recently stumbled upon a box while I was rummaging through my closet filled with at least ten different aprons and folders from baking camps I had done at my old school. My mind flashed all the way to sixth grade, specifically my English teacher, and how much I had changed since then.

I find it can be very difficult to get two energetic kids to behave when we go out to eat. I always think it can’t be any worse than the last time. Eventually, it’s got to get better. My girls Addison, six and Taylor, three, how bad could two girls be? I have to say, I love my children, but to take them out to eat is a loud and disruptive event that probably affects me more than others; at least I

As I sit on the stage of the most prestigious music hall in the world, Carnegie Hall, with my cello in between my legs and bow in hand, the conductor raises his baton. He cues me along with 150 symphony players dressed in uniform black tuxedos and gowns. I was unbelievably nervous, sitting second chair for hundreds to see; we opened with, “The Marriage of Figaro” composed by Mozart. I had been preparing for this contest, this moment, all year and now it was finally upon me.