Free College Admissions Essays: A Short Story

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

When you are first learning how to surf, the weather conditions play a large part in determining your success. The ideal day for beginners includes a blue sky, a high temperature, and, most importantly, tame tides. When my cousin Lauren and I step onto the increasingly deserted beach at 5:00 pm, it quickly becomes apparent that the weather is not on our side. The sun barely peaks through the mass of gray clouds covering the sky. A breeze comes in, dropping the temperature to less-than-favorable conditions. Lauren and I look out at the ocean and can immediately tell that these waves are much bigger and much rougher than usual for this beach. Learning to surf is going to be a much bigger challenge than either of us anticipated.

As I am walking down the hall to Ms.Johnson’s room, I see something different. There is a sub today. I just really hope she isn’t as mean as she looks. When I walk into the classroom I get my folder and go to my assigned seat to start my “do now”. When the teacher walks in she says,”Everyone sit down and don’t make a noise unless you want a step!”

After the holiday was over, it was hard for her to get back to the institutional life in residential school. There was strict discipline at the school. For example, there were certain times of the day when students had to adhere to the rules of the bell: to get up in the morning, to go to chapel, to go to eat, to go to the classroom, to signify playtime and recess, and to go to bed. In addition, each of the students had chores to do. Everyone had to clean the school. When the principal came to the school, the students had to know how to set a table properly with damask table cloths. When the students did not follow the rules, they would be punished brutally. Some of the penalties led students in the school to dead. There were also a lot of health problems in residential schools due to the large number of students. (2011, 2)

I am a fortunate soul. I have two loving parents who raised me in a Christian home. We went to church every Sunday, both my parents worked, and they gave me everything I needed. My mother and father both gave me everything that I wanted, or better yet everything I asked for they tried to get. They didn’t just give me anything, no questions asked, there was discipline, respect, love, and humility. They thought I deserved the world and they tried to provide it. Was that so bad?

It was my first class, of my first day, of my first year at Sartell High School. As a freshman, everything about high school is nerve wracking. Simply just looking at an upper classman would send chills throughout your spine. Basically, school was prison at the time (metaphor). Every freshman would walk into their classes, crossing their fingers, and wishing to see one of their friend’s vibrant faces. I clearly remember that day; I trudged through the halls with some of my very best friends, and we tried to find our first classes. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies swam up my nose (personification); I then realized that I must be close to my first class, foods and nutrition. Standing outside the room, I look in and notice the room was white and vacant (Participial Phrase). My stomach dropped to the floor; I knew nobody in this class. I quickly glanced around the bare room, looking for a familiar face. The only other girl in my grade was absolutely the last person I would want to share this class with. She looked like somebody I would not normally want to associate with, conceited and stuck up. With rapid, quiet feet, I walked into the classroom, and I heard the rustling of papers (Prepositional Phrase). This could only mean one thing, a seating chart. I scurried through the chart and found my spot. Of course, I sat next to her, the cruelest girl in school,

The bell signalling the end of second period hadn’t sounded, yet. Or maybe it had.maybe she missed it amidst the screams. She wondered if it was all over, perhaps somewhere in a distant corner of the school, students and teachers rejoiced and hugged each other knowing there was nothing left to fear. No matter how quite it was outside fear still rushed through her body, mentally and physically. She knew she couldn’t get up. Fear had paralysed her. She had fled the library and fled her way through the southern hallway when it began. The hall was infused with kinetic horror. An aimless frenzy of kids and adults bound in a reckless pack of mass confusion, like and ant hill being washed away with a hose. No new knew what to do. They just ran. Lisa couldn’t run. The fear had taken ahold of her and would allow her to move any faster than a sloth in a waking

I was getting closer and closer. Not a bird in sight, not even a single cloud. The moon was starting to shine as the sun was descending from the cerulean sky. Drivers were getting closer and closer to their destination, so was I. I took one more footstep where my mind flashes back four years back. It was a warm atmosphere, although it wasn’t my desire to start somewhere fresh. I walked into my first class, two girls came up to me, and secured that I had a nice first day. After my first, class I go into a classroom, which wasn’t what I all expected. It all seemed so historic and antique. It really emphasized his passion. He was teaching something, that I had already learned. He was asking the whole class what the regions of the United States

Abigail Jay stood in front of the school on the rain drenched steps, rocking on her heels. She was waiting for Jimmy, her uncle to close the shop for ten minutes to come and get. Most of the other students had already left from the campus once the last bell rang, they booked it. Abigail was use to waiting for Jimmy, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be late and if anything she’d be worried if he was on time. Abigail tangled with the pull strings of her hoodie, an excited smile on her face.

Has someone ever made you feel welcome, taught you life lessons that would be helpful to your upcoming life, or someone that taught you something in a fun way so you actually liked learning? Someone like a teacher? A teacher is a person in our life who provides many important things including a good education. A teacher means a lot to his or her students. During the six hours a day during the 5 day a week can really impact a student's life. And I can only think of one teacher that really impacted my life- Mr. Miller.

You can probably imagine how nervous and maybe even a little timorous I was, my first day at Barstow High. It was not very simple to get accustomed to, coming from Hinkley School, which contained approximately four hundred and fifty students at most, to a big crowded hall ways of Barstow. I still remember how nervous I was that first day; my upper lip was shaking as I asked a hall monitor where the five hundred row was located.

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.

For some reason or another certain students are drawn to particular teachers while other students are more fond of others. In my life I have studied under three memorable teachers. Teachers with which I was able to connect, to laugh, to share my misgivings. While I may have been close with each of these teachers, it is very clear, in retrospect, that each was very unique, and represented an entirely different class of teacher.

As children, we absorb information and learn from experiences that mold us into who we are. Many individuals impact a child’s life, but the most powerful and influential role lies in a devoted teacher, a teacher provides growth to students as a gardener would to a garden of flowers. Each child can bloom into a thriving flower so long as you water their garden with optimism, love, patience, and guidance. Throughout my educational experiences I was lucky enough to have educators who poured their knowledge and optimism into me, and now I would like to reciprocate that back to students who are in the position I was once in. Balancing life and school is hard enough for a student, but a powerful and caring teacher can steer you in the right direction. In this autobiography you will read about my educational background, experiences that influenced my decision to become a teacher, and what I believe the role of a teacher should be in a student’s life.

The final bell rang, and students erupted in a joyful chorus of cheers as summer break began. I sang a melancholy dirge of self-pity. My bitterness increased as I waited for my mother to pick me up. She came at last and I jumped up, anxious to leave forever. Again, Mrs. Thomas thwarted my plans; she came outside to talk to my mother, undoubtedly about my ignominious fate. As they murmured, I viewed the co-conspirators with hostile eyes. I'm a victim, the final sigh of my fifth grade year whispered wearily.