Why I Want To Go To Summer School

I attend a relatively small, private, Catholic high school in northern New Jersey called Don Bosco Prep. I am involved in a variety of activities including sports, music, and various clubs and organizations. My school encouraged me to grow academically, socially, culturally, and spiritually. Our school motto is “empowering young men for life”.  I feel that my school has given me the tools to be an engaged student. The school promotes a brotherhood which has benefitted me personally. Whether a friendship forged from a study group or one formed with a teammate, each friendship brings different experiences to my life for which I am grateful.

I’ve demonstrated unusual academic ability since elementary school. During my time at River Oaks Elementary, an International Baccalaureate school, I enjoyed and excelled in the Gifted and Talented program. My second-grade teacher told my parents at the end of the year that in his opinion I already knew all the material that I would learn in third grade. Therefore, he recommended that I skip the grade entirely. Although my parents didn’t let me skip third grade, I continued to challenge myself. I asked for extra homework and devoured half the books in the library in my spare time. My wonderful teachers let me work at an accelerated pace and gave me higher level problems to keep me interested and enthusiastic about school. Similarly, my eighth-grade Spanish teacher strongly recommended that I skip Spanish II and head straight to Spanish III my freshman year. This time, I was old enough to express my desire to accelerate my learning; I urged my parents to let me skip the class and reassured them that I wouldn’t be too overwhelmed. They trusted my judgement, and I’m so thankful that I made this decision. I borrowed my teacher’s book over the summer and pored over it for an hour every day until I was confident in my abilities. It was intimidating walking into the sophomore- and junior-filled class on that first

Until recently, summer school was always a thing people wanted to avoid because it was typically looked down on. The students that were often in summer school were viewed as students who struggled in class and were unable to get the credits they needed. What did summer school mean for those students who were able to understand materials better and that were able to meet their credits? Well, at that point nothing; there was no real purpose for it if you were a “good” student. Nowadays, however, “high-achieving students are attending academic summer school to turbocharge grade-point averages or load up on

Graduating such a prestige college with a degree in Journalism was all due to the motivation Walls had to break free from the chaotic life of her parents. In summary, Jeannette conveys these remaining two themes to her readers through The Glass

On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade

It was the year 2008, I had just graduated from St. Michael’s School located in Los Angeles, CA. This year was quite exhilarating for me also scary because I was going to attend an all-girls high school. Los Angeles was my birth place also a place where I called home. One day, I came home to hearing my parents talking about moving to Mississippi. I remained devastated, not only we were moving to the south, I’m moving away from childhood friends. I was worried I wouldn’t see them again and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to make new friends in Mississippi.

”Bye students. Have a great summer,” the teacher yells over the bell. Happiness and joy fills the classrooms as everyone leaves the room talking about their summer plans with their friends and family.This is the way it should be,but what if all that was taken away just like that? and the joy of summer vacation suddenly disappeared? All you had planned to have with the people you were closest with. How would you feel if all of that was gone? That's why we shouldn't have year-round schooling, because it complicates schedules, add to costs, and with year round schooling

The worst year of my life was in the seventh grade. It was a time of unforgettable and painful moments which took place throughout the school year. This taught me a significant lesson. The summer before seventh grade, my parents informed me that it would be beneficial to join a sport. When I did not find one that interested me, the color guard was counseled to me; which to be honest, I resented. My mother had a strict policy that once an activity is started it must be continued throughout the entire season; for this reason, I did. My color guard instructor was one of the most bounteous woman I knew. Moreover, she was an admirable and gracious woman who cared deeply about her students. When school started, I was a self-effacing, lonesome girl,

“But that sort of summer has given way to something more difficult, even darker, that makes you wonder whether year-round school is not a notion whose time has come.” Most students are very eager towards the end the school year to be free from the “prison” that holds them from August until May. Students want to be relieved from all of the built up stress from throughout the year and they want to be able to do what they want without having to worry if their homework is done or if they are prepared for the test the following day. However, many children and their families rely on school for one very overlooked reason that is addressed in Anna Quindlen’s essay, “School’s Out for Summer.” In it, Quindlen discusses a problem that many don’t even realize exists: a lack of ability to feed children at home. Many Americans rely on the school to feed their children because the parents can not. This is a problem that many people do not realize exists, and it is a problem that can be fixed.

Why would I like to come to Jeca i would like to come to jeca because i feel that it would help me in many ways possible such as later on in my future reasons in why is because,I want to feel the way college would be when I grow up.However another reason in why I would like to come to Jeca is that I feel Jeca would help me in a way where i could feel more pressure into the way that I could overcome anything such as, being the top best student in my class.Another way is that I could push more of my standards and outgrow them in a better way possible. Therefore I believe that I would have good habits if i’m in this school because I will be on top things and would be a productive student.Another example in what habits I would have is that whenever

Along with the comeback of school we need to “Pity our poor teachers who spend every September reprogramming children to do their homework, spending hours on remedial lessons and waiting until overtired children readjust to regular bedtimes” says McFeatters. She made me realize that schooling lacks over the summer and forgets to stick for the arrival of school. As stated, teenage workers’ jobs have become taken by those whom are unsuccessful adults trying to make a living. Being a teenager, I plan on trying to get a job, but my education is also in my hands of retaining throughout a summer of jobs and even summer school to keep up with my schooling to get into more colleges with an overloaded class agenda. Year-round school would keep up with my education, and there would be more breaks to find jobs here and there to keep up with extra curricular, or even my car.

Being a freshman, in a new school, a new city, even a new state, frightened me going into my first day of school as a high school attendee. Chaparral High School in Phoenix, Arizona was considered to be the top high school in the state of Arizona, however it sure was not for me. There was an ample amount of kids who believed they were better than the kid next to them because of the money their parents possessed. This characteristic began to grow on me; without my own awareness. Furthermore, I began to talk back to my parents, acted as a terrible brother to both my two younger brothers who looked up to me, as well as, my friends back in El Paso, Texas did not even want to talk to me. I had become a monster in all my friend’s eyes.

“How did I get here?” A question that finds its way to the front of my thoughts on almost nightly basis since I began high school at Phillips Academy. I ponder how my low-income, black, public school educated and sarcastic being was capable of manipulating its way through lengthy admissions forms, holistic selection committees, and wine up at one of the best high schools in the nation. How?

The first year, the time to prove myself had arrived. Classes, rooms, teachers, and some students were unfamiliar. Eventually, minutes melted into hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. It didn’t take long before my schedule was routine, something of second nature. Humor and happiness were found in the form of my advisory family, where school was transformed into something more than going through the same motions of day to day activity. By the closing point of sixth grade, I was having a hard time letting go of what I’d adapted to. “What’s wrong?” my dad asked when I was getting into the car after being picked up early on the last day. I explained how distressed I was that my first year of middle school exceeded my expectations, and that it had to come to an end. Although his outlook viewed my reason for sorrow as trivial, I didn’t.

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.