Reflective Essay On Reading

As an observer who often sees students getting in trouble for what they have done, I never would have thought that one day, the student would be me. I am unable to recall exactly what day of the year it was, but I remember what happened clearly. That day, everything seemed to go so well; I had a great day with my friends and the school day was coming to an end. Suddenly that evening, at 2:12 PM, my day began to get worse, as if I got jinxed. During passing period before my last class, I decided to go use the restroom and unsurprisingly, the girls restroom was packed. By the time I got to class, I remember clearly that I had arrived a second or two after the last bell had rung. That day, my teacher happened to be standing by the door during passing period and when I got to class she said, “I want you to write me a page on why you

The next day, as promised, she handed out a short pop quiz. It was not as challenging as she tried to make it sound. It presented only five multiple choice questions on it. Once we finished our quizzes, she told us to read the next chapter silently. Once I finished my quiz at the speed of light, I decided to finish other homework, since I preferred to read at home anyway. So while the rest of my class was reading, I worked on homework. Thirty minutes later, I completely finished all of my other assignments, so I decided to start reading the chapter. After nearly two paragraphs in, my teacher interrupted the class to see if everyone finished reading the chapter. Unknown to me, the chapter was fairly short and everyone, but me, finished it. Raising my hand slowly, I told her that I had not finished reading. Everyone in my class turned around and stared at me. The teacher asked me how far I was in the chapter and how much time I needed to

It’s kind of crazy how stories you read can bring so many mental pictures in your mind of things you can relate to it. In Bobbie Ann Mason’s story, “Being Country”, I related very well to the country style of living. I, myself, lived in a very small country town in Texas, and know people just like the “country people” noted in Mason’s story.

It was how to write our name and I like to think of myself as always being quite a smart kid, but this was not the case here. I had not really been taught how to write my name in a comprehensible way. I had written my name down with only being asked once. The only bad outcome was that I wrote something I could not even comprehend. The other students were older than me and wrote their names that would be considered neat for their age. I was frustrated because no matter how hard I tried, I could not produce something that was readable. I had a bad case of anger issues and was ready to flip but thankfully Mrs. Tayman came and helped me. She corrected the way I was holding the pencil and that by itself helped the legibility tremendously. When she saw that everyone had made a sufficient amount of progress in that day she let us have nap

My teacher, though he quizzed us, never confirmed whether we took those notes and learned or if we’d memorized the answers from a cheatsheet found online. Still he had his faith in us, he put time into helping us and all we had to do was be honest in our efforts. So I read all fortyfive chapters of the textbook, I have a five subject notebook filled to the rims with the notes I took and used torturing as a reinforcement of it all. I used classmates as resources, I did my own work and was transparent in all that I turned in and so I remained

I got in loads of trouble because my teacher would think I was pranking her, or trying to be funny, which caused me to end up in detention quite a lot, and have to have horrible Parent-Teacher conferences.

The day right from the start seemed like a good day so I went about smiling and walked blissfully to my normal seat next to my friends. We prepared for the coming classes that day. The deafening bell sounded and we were on our way to start the actual day. My classmates and I walked joyfully through the hallways, joking and laughing before reaching our first period destination. I made my way to the front of the classroom and sat down. The air was crisp so I took out my jacket and put it on. Our teacher walked in a few minutes late and started to take attendance. The whole classroom focused on him. After he finished taking attendance, he slowly reached down into a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. I stared in disbelief. The stack of papers he pulled out was actually a pop-test. I took the pop-test trying to recall everything that we had learned over the course of two weeks. I focused on the test for most of the class period and finally turned it in. The morning weather seemed to just be a ruse. This was not a blissful or good day; it took a turn for the worst. I sat there in the chilling room trying to think of something else to keep

In my 7th year at Bradley Middle School I had, what was arguably, the most embarrassing moment of my life. It was nearly the end of the school year, maybe mid April. That year I was forced to take Theater Arts to complete my fine arts credits so I could graduate. I know now art would have been the easier route, but 7th grade me lived for a challenge. Let me tell you that’s what that class was a challenge. Our assignment had been to recite a monologue that our teacher had chosen for us a couple of weeks ago. If only I knew about the nightmare to come.

I sat in my fourth grade classroom staring at the bookshelf when suddenly I caught a glimpse of a dark blue book with a heroic being on the front. I lifted the heavy book and began reading Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief. As soon as I started I fell into this mythical world where gods, monsters, and heroes all existed. It was a rollercoaster through my emotions. The thrill. The suspense. The surprising new book had a grasp on me, to stop reading it would be difficult. I felt attached. As soon as I started, I finished. Devastated, my chase of this feeling has never stopped, no other book has given me the same fulfillment as Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief. As a young reader I would love to find the same joy and thrill (as I did back

I feigned some excuse that I was working on a homework assignment and needed questions answered and was to bashful to speak to my teacher, the last part was true, at

The next day, we started our reading and social studies test. These tester were super long! I was wondering how many question it had. I was sad the are teachers could not help us. She just had to see if anyone was talking or cheathing. They really didn’t do

Suddenly, there was a hush in the room. The teacher had asked someone a question! I tried to seem casual as I glanced up to see if I was the unlucky person who had been called upon. My heart jumped and then I realized that the teacher was looking at the person to my right, waiting expectantly for an answer. I stared at the girl also, as if I was truly interested in whatever ramblings might come out of her mouth about the dead general and his battle. I felt my face grow warm with a slight blush as I became embarrassed for her and her inability to answer the question. She must have been paying as much attention to the lecture as I had been. Finally, she was able to formulate a less than mediocre answer that satisfied the monotone voice at the front of the room and the lecture resumed. Another glance back at the girl and I saw the cell phone palmed in her left hand down by her side. She had been text-messaging someone instead of paying attention!

My life as a reader has been like a rollercoaster, I had ups and downs. There had been times where I would read regularly and my reading level would go up and there had been times where I completely stopped reading and my reading level dropped drastically.

Throughout my time writing at the City College of New York, I experienced a slow and dramatic transition to my first semester of this college course. During that time, I've learned from several feedback and lessons from certain peers and my professor. Because of the strict comments written in my drafts by my professor, a few helpful suggestions to include in my writing, and a few miserably failures, I was able to see how my writing and habits have changed during the duration of this course. Back in high school, I was always comfortable writing only five paragraph essays (Introduction, three body paragraphs, and a conclusion), but I've never expected to write something more complex. Here, I was encouraged to include as much detail as I can instead of writing something vague

I wouldn’t say that I am a good writer, and I really don’t like to read books either. Through my years in school I became literate in these two categories. I was and still am not interested in writing, or reading books in my spare time. The only writing I have ever done is for school. Writing just does not interest me, and the only reading I do out of class is reading about sports in magazines, or reading the news, or looking at web pages. I have only read a couple of books on my own, 95% of all the books I have read have been for school. The reason for not writing out of class is probably attributed to the fact that I am a very impatient person, and I have a short attention span. I have no interest in writing and reading so when