The Fears Of The Middle Of A Circle

Two little girls with matching pink dresses, light up shoes, backpacks double their size skip off to the bus for their very first day of school. To a five year old, kindergarten was a big deal. The first time away from their parents, a new environment, and very intimidating older kids. I knew I was lucky, I got to take on this new experience with my built-in best friend and somehow, knowing that made all the difference.

I remember the first day I walked into my kindergarten class, I clenched my mother’s hand with all my might to prevent her from letting go. The kids around me, whom I supposed were my classmates, had long let go of their mother’s had and were playing together, and even as a five year old, at that point I felt like an outsider. I pleaded my mom to not leave but my attempts failed as I found myself alone yet surrounded by complete strangers. As I stood in the center of the room while pushing back my tears and eyeing my mother make her way out the door, I heard the teacher call my name. I timidly walked towards the spot on the yellow carpet she was signaling at for me to sit on. I heard Mrs. Ross’s soothing voice but no matter how much I concentrated

The first month of transitioning from a home to a school environment can be a monumental change for any child. It is a circumstance that is both scary and exciting for most. The short story, “Charles” by Shirley Jackson, occurred during the 1950’s, at a young boy’s home and in his new kindergarten class. Laurie is a young, impressionable student who was attending his first year of school. Students in school need to feel special, protected, and receive attention from the teacher, but Laurie’s teacher did not seem to give him the reassurance he needed. At home, Laurie’s infant sibling was getting all the attention. While at school, Laurie did not adjust well in his new kindergarten class. This proved to be the cause of his new search for identity.

It was early July in Southern California: the sun was high, the air was warm, and the palm trees were swaying. Unfortunately, the bright sun could not light the darkness of the pit I had been slowly falling into during my tumultuous school year at my new charter school. On that day, when the other girls were tanning beachside, I was sitting deskside. I was trapped in a tiny, moldy, yellow-carpeted education office at the school I had transferred to the year prior. Like my fading hope, the dusty chandelier was barely hanging on from the ceiling. The room’s peculiarity added to my anxiety, as I felt failure lingering in the musty air. Though I had been sheltered by my parents’ optimism, I knew what I would soon hear: “I am so sorry sweetheart,

I remember the very first day of school, I felt isolated and misunderstood. When I got there all eyes were on me, looking at me as the new kid, I was sweating in the cold. I felt like going back home. In a classroom full of 7th graders, students were

The classroom set up was very different than what I was used to back in Nepal. I didn’t know anyone in there. I didn’t know what to do, so I just managed to sit in the chair that was nearby the door. All the other students were staring at me like something was wrong with me. In reality, everything felt wrong to me when I was in the situation where it felt so bad that I just wanted to quit. It seemed like I was on a one-way street, and I couldn’t figure out what I should do and how I would get out from it. It was almost the end of that class. The time passed just by watching a documentary on the literature’s time period. After the bell rang, all the students left the classroom; then I walked to my teacher with the problem I was having. I was lost in every other class as the hallways get crowded and the buildings were huge. He helped me solve the problems that I had, and my first day of the new school passed in the same way as it did first three hours of that

In “The Certainty of Fear” by Audra Kendall, the author chronicles the fears we have throughout our lifetime. Starting with the fears of childhood and then adolescence, progressing to a mid-life crisis and concluding with the fears of our senior years; I can relate to these fears but I don’t remember much of my younger years. For me, my greatest fears started as an adolescent and continue now into the mid years of my life and further into the future of my senior years.

At the time, I was only 5 years old. It was my second week of kindergarten, I was not exactly comfortable yet. School was in session and I was playing house, being the dad of course, because I worshiped my father. The loudspeaker came on for teacher to check their emails or turn on the tvs. I turned around and my teacher was on the floor, her hands were to her face and her black eye liner dripped down her cheeks. Some of the students walked over and hugged her, teachers began to congregate. What was going on? Why were teachers all heading to the hallway and screaming for us to do the same? The ground underneath me shook and I began to cry. I didn’t know what was happening.

VROOM! The bus goes when the engine starts and drives to school. Ugh! The thought of going to school again and beginning the 2nd grade in Maurice Hawk School. EH. I wasn’t so nervous because I had the same class as my friends. I know my teacher was so nice to me in 2nd grade, because basically all elementary school teachers are really nice to kids like me. Her name was Mrs. Ramirez. I had to run to different classes during that class like speech or just different subjects because I hate the thought of being late. When is was time for speech, my teacher picked my classmate and I up because we forgot to come to class. I know I just said that I hate the thought of being late, but hold your horses! It was only the first day! Give me a break! But anyways, while we were walking slowly and calmly in the hall, we started

So naturally, nine years old Geneva cried. I know, how pathetic, how pitiful. All I knew was that I wasn’t near my home, and I wasn’t supposed to bike this far. I felt bad for my other friends who were okay with biking this far as they saw the tears streaming down my face. I sat upon the ground stubbornly, refusing to get up from my crouched position. The kids with us argued about what to do. They couldn’t just go back, or let me go

When I arrived in the office, the principal was red in the face, her lips in a rigid line, and my parents were on the verge of

I was dropped off at the school and I shook with excitement. “Good luck and do your best!” my mother shouted in her usual high and happy voice as she sped off in our small Honda. I walked into the school gym and

Looking at the clock, it was 7:40 so I went outside to wait for the bus, locking the door behind me and putting the headphones to my Walkman on. As the bus arrived, I hopped on, gave the driver the money my mom had given me and placing the change into my backpack, figuring I had enough for a Gatorade during practice, nodding to myself in satisfaction, I took my seat and got to school with two minutes to spare before the final bell for first period

Have you ever been so nervous that you cannot eat, sleep, or do anything productive? It was September 3rd, 2015, the dreaded day of the open house was upon me. For the weeks leading up to this event all I could do was worry about if the children would like me, if the parents would like me, or would I be irrelevant to them since I am only the teacher’s assistant. These thoughts would go around and around in my mind day after day night after night. All the schooling I had put myself through the last few years was leading up to this moment, the beginning of “real life”. A few weeks before, I was hired on as an assistant pre-k teacher for a private preschool and kindergarten. I was so excited to finally have a job that did not consist of me hanging clothes or dealing with money but actually had to do with my area of study, early childhood education.

One rainy day all my friends and I were on our way to school in Mae La camp, Thailand. The ground was muddy and so slippery we couldn’t walk over it, but we were feeling happy and excited about school. We got there late, so we were feeling nervous. My teacher stood there looking at us like we were criminals or something. Her face was red and her eyes were wide like a zombie. She called us to go up. We were shaking and scared and had no idea what will happen next. Then we all went up, stood up front of our classmates, my hand are shaky, I put my head down because I was afraid to face the others, it’s so embarrassing when you got beaten with a bamboo stick on your thigh. My face was red, my eyes were full with tears. For so long I felt sad and embarrassed. After that I couldn’t walk for few days, my legs were hurting and I couldn’t sit properly, it hurt whenever you tried to sit.