Sartell Girl Research Paper

My first day of the second grade, I knew no one except the teacher and my younger brother. Kindergarten and first grade had been easy enough, but I was scared of the upcoming year. The only thing I knew about being the new kid was that it hadn’t panned out too great for Addie from the American Girl books. Mrs. Henson’s class was fairly quiet throughout the day, for most kids were nervous or tired. We neared the end of the day and I was ecstatic over the fact that hadn’t made a complete fool of myself. I hadn’t met anyone yet, but I thought that that would be a challenge for another day. Unfortunately, that’s not what Mrs. Henson had in mind. She sent us all out to recess with a grin plastered on her face and with me practically kicking

The morning was foggy and I could see the front of my school through my window. It was a nice sight to see. I walked into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal and there she was with her head down on the table. I could tell that she arrived a couple of hours ago because the tears hadn’t dried from her cheeks yet. I got myself ready gave her a kiss on her forehead and headed off to school. I had walked into class eager to see what my teacher Mrs. Padron had in store for today. Every single day there was something new to learn and there’s something about that infinite nature of learning that really appealed to me as a child. I cherished those 7 hours I spent in class the most I could and I dreaded the mere thought of having to go home where I would have to face the

Have you ever felt like everyone in the class is looking at you? That was me in 8th grade, the new kid, not only to the school but to the country. My family and I had just moved from Germany to Columbus, Georgia, it was a big change in all of our lives. I sat in that class with not an a sliver of an idea of what I was doing, where I was going, or how I was going to survive this year. My shoes were not exactly the most stylish, neither were my clothes, Germany was not exactly the most fashionable country, so why would I be, I had lived there for 12 years of my life, I was 12 at the time. My teacher was Mr. Kahlouch, an old grouchy man that I would learn to not like even more as the year passed, but today he would make me stand up and introduce myself to a class where it seemed every student had already produced their own clique. I told myself that I would be okay, that it wasn’t a problem, and thought of the old cliché, “picture everybody naked.” I was ready, I walked up to the front of the class took a deep breath and went, “Hi my name is…” I woke up about an hour later, I had passed out in front of everyone in my new class at my new school, in this new country.

The sun rising and birds chirping, a fresh a breath air consumed my lungs. It was the start of my junior year at Coral Park Sr. High, and I was ready to enjoy my year with old friends and maybe have a girlfriend. As I pass through classmate and teachers outside the classroom; going up the main stairs in the back of the school entrance, I was interrupted by a wonderful fruity smell. As I turned to see what aroma lured me, suddenly I bumped my head and fell off the stairs. Once I realize what happen, I quickly ran up to the girl and held her hand; her hair was covering her face at that time so I didn’t pay so much attention. Ring! Ring! Ring! The bell rung and I was late. I apologize to her and told her that I would invite

Middle school, when that word pops up in one’s head, it’s a sudden reminder of dreadfulness, broken promises, regrets, first crushes, and last but not least, learned lessons. Another morning had brought another school day. Seeing familiar faces and teachers I just wanted to get through the day with no hassle, but that’s not always the case. At least it wasn’t for me. Making my way through the extended halls and walls that seemed to enclose upon me, I felt nothing more than like a chained prisoner. The bell rung and I remained seated in my class, encompassed by boxed, outdated computers and rusty white walls, I felt

The bus finally arrived around seven fifteen, I walked on and found a seat near the middle, where I sat down and tried to rest until I arrived at school. I awoke to brakes squealing only to realize that I had arrived at my destination.Drudgingly I walked off the bus examining everyone, trying to figure out who I would become friends with and who I would come to despise. “Go to the gym” said some short lady who I didn’t know, but I still followed her instruction like the good little boy I thought I

I almost pass out. I go back to the real world and head to my seat. The teacher said that we were going to get a new student last week, but I didn’t think much of it. In the class, the seats are arranged in pairs of two. Jane was sitting alone. The second bell rung and the class quieted down and waited for Mrs. Flaherty to do the attendance. It turns out, the person that I was assigned to’s grandmother had passed away on the previous Friday, and today was her funeral. After the teacher finished the attendance, she looked at me and said. “Hey Holden, why don’t you sit next to Jane? She’s new, and needs someone to sit with. And since Adam’s out, you need someone to sit with.” Jane picked her head up and she looked at me with delight. I could tell she was really excited, because she slightly twitched her nose. She has been doing it since she and I were kids. I sat down next to her, and we chewed the fat for two minutes before class started. Every time we talk, she kills me. She always has an new, interesting story every time we see each other. After Mrs. Flaherty taught us a third lesson on plagiarism, we went up to get a worksheet about plagiarism that was to be completed before the end of class. I sat back down with Jane trailing. We get started and one of the school’s many jocks threw an eraser at the

As the story goes, it was my first day as a freshman at Poplar Bluff High School. As I stepped off the bus to my new school, I found myself unfamiliar and nervous. My first instinct was to find my friends on such a wide campus, but, class would be starting soon so I wouldn’t have time. “Guess I will just get to my first class early”, I thought to myself while walking in the shivering, cold weather.

The bell rang louder than ever and that meant we had to transition back to homeroom. All of the students huddled into the door frame and pushed and shoved out of the classroom. Me being the smart child just stepped aside and let the stampede pass. When I entered Ms.Erskine’s class, I saw an unfamiliar face sitting next to my other friend Fatim. Fatim and Nevaeh were sitting at the desk chatting away like they were previous best friends. I slowly walked into the classroom confused

Sarasate, one of the greatest Spanish violinist in the late 19th century. Sarasate was born on 10/3/1844 in Pamplona. He was not only famous for his great violin technique, it was also because of his beauty of his note that he played Many composer dedicated works for Sarasate, like Wieniawski dedicated his second violin concerto to Sarasate, Lalo's symphonie espagnole etc. When Sarasate was a child, he performed for the Queen Isabella. Then he was subsidized to study music at Paris Conservatory and studied with Delphin Alard. He won the first violin prize when he was 13 years old.

As i'm riding to school on my bike I realize i've forgotten my backpack I start riding home and when I get there I pack my backpack and lunch. Then I ride to school. When I get there I lock my bike in the bike racks. I stare at my schedule I had mr lo first period. The bell rang and all the students piled into the classrooms. I got to mr lo’s class it had science equipment everywhere. We started off playing a get to know you game which was quite boring until mr lo did a diet coke and mentos experiment. Before we knew it first and second period were over the day was going fast.

A stereotypical beige filing cabinet as old as the school itself stands to the right of the doorway to second period. Hiding behind the drawers sits a tiny cart complementing in color. Hanging from above is an immaculate military flag. On the same wall runs a lengthy chalkboard facing rows of evenly spaced of desks. A variety of volunteer opportunities along with the discussions for the day occupy the board. The countless notes in class can become dry. There’re only so many interesting discussions about local government. The teacher’s slight monotone voice doesn’t necessarily help either, but his intentions are in the right place. Student photos, large and small, occupy the space left of the windows. Warmth of the morning sun tickles the skin as it's felt radiating through the glass. Anyone in this seat is left frigidly shaking, because the teacher leaves the rowdy air conditioner

The alarm clock buzzed loudly beside my ear. Feeling like a gong that was being hit repeatedly was placed right beside my head. I sluggishly pulled myself out of my bed and dragged myself to my closet. The words, first day of school moaned ghastly in my head. Summer was uneventful and school was just going to be hell. I picked out an old, worn out flannel and a pair of jeans to wear. Not rushing at all, I struggled to put the raggedy clothes on. They smelt like horrendous lies and rumors. Exactly what this state and my school are built on.

My legs felt like jelly as I walked through the school hallway. I kept my eyes trained to the floor, my eyes jumping from one coloured tile to the next. My hands were in the grip of my parents as I walked between them, almost like they were dragging me forward. A lady with short brown hair walked on ahead of us, later I would come to know her as one of the school’s secretaries.

Soon my first day of school arrived but still feeling the grief of having left so much behind, I lacked the ability to show any enthusiasm. I reluctantly entered the classroom, my stomach was rumbling like a washing machine (I hadn’t been able to stomach breakfast) and all the eyes were on fixed on me- the new-kid. For about five minutes it was like being celebrity who was walking down the red carpet but along with the gawking came the quiet conversations and whispers. I knew they were about me.