Reflective Essay Writing

Decent Essays
What classroom never failed to meet the sound of distasteful, classical music, embody hundreds of huge, intimidating books, and reak of abandoned flowers left by the far window sill weekly? Anyone that has attended De Queen schools in the last century can answer this question without being hesitant, considering Mrs. Wanda Smith has been teaching since dinosaurs roamed the Earth. As a result of Mrs. Smith’s 9th grade English class, I’m currently in college having to constrain myself to write papers. The significance in the beginning of my hatred for writing was going to impact tremendously due to the constant use of it in my future. Writing is used in our everyday lives, compelling it to be very consequential for the inevitable as a whole as well. Therefore, assuming that I had let this adversity continue to frustrate me, I wouldnt be as successful as I am anticipating to be. The last period of the day, where it was normal to detect the horrific mixture of sweaty odors and our small, white-haired English teacher, who everyone referred to as “Worksheet Wanda”, already ranting on how rude and rambunctious our class was. Of course, every godawful friend of mine was in that class, practically condemning us to failure in there. As the piercing bell met the slamming of the big metal door, Mrs. Wanda followed it eager to talk about our next old-fashioned book we were going to be forced to read. Though the minute she started talking, laughter spread throughout the classroom like
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