Book
My life is a confusing mess.
I could start with my childhood Or even some other random tangent that no one reading this book will even begin to care about, but I won't. Instead I'll start with the beginning of 7th grade. To be specific the few weeks leading up to seventh grade.
Registration.
It was hot and miserable and I needed to learn what shaving was. But honestly I wasn't all that concerned. I was being forced to help with registering all the students at Mt. Robles Jr. High. Fuck me.
A. I didn't want to spend the last few sweet days of my summer looking at the pathetic faces of my fellow students.
B. I would rather be bored than face my peers.
So in my current state of mind, shit wasn't going to happen.
But, you know
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I let my thoughts wander.
I think of the fall, how the air will smell spicy and sweet. Like coffee and cinnamon and pumpkin pie. And she smelled like that. Whoever she is. Cinnamon. Coffee. Pumpkin. Fall. Her.
Fuck. I just gave them way too much change.
I go back to thinking about my job. Refusing to let my thoughts budge from my task. I work and work and work. I lose track of time.
12:00
Lunch.
Four hours had gone by. I had just wasted 4 whole hours of my life. Meh.
I take my lunch break. I eat some cold pizza while walking around the school.
I tell myself I'm just looking for my class rooms. But I'm lying to myself. I walk the hallways bumping into people. Up and down the school. Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
12:45. I'm late for my job.
I run back to the gym but thankfully only a trickle of students are in the room at the moment. Back to the transcript.
I see more friends and my mood lightens. We talk and exchange stories from our summer. Most of them are grossly over exaggerated lies told to impress one another.
I go back to work. Another half hour passes and then...
Her.
She comes to my table and hands me her form. Only her last name is on the name line. It's my lucky day. I almost lose my cool, well all the cool that you can have in an indoor oven.
Even though the heat I can smell the spicy scent of coffee and cinnamon.
Me: What's your first name?
Her: Helena
I write it on the line and then stick out my hand.
Me: I'm
My father dropped me off to school, and as I entered, I witnessed large groups of students walking into a specific building, so I presumed that, it was where students get to know their schedule for their classes, but my anxiety filled conscience told me to make sure that my assumptions were true.
I woke up, it was Monday the first day of school at Cupertino Middle School. I got up and took in the eye shattering light from the Sun's burning rays, and got ready for middle school being careful to make every little detail perfect like my hair, shirt, and of course school supplies.
c. For example, last year when I was a freshman, one of my roommates asked me if I
I was born in North Sioux City, Iowa. I grew up there till the time I was seven. From age five to age seven, all I would eat was peanut butter and jelly. I refused to eat anything else. My sister was a year younger than me and was always getting into things. Hospital visit after hospital visit thanks to her. Other than that, my childhood memories are faint. The only other thing I remember is not being able to read picture books with all the other kindergarteners and having to read with the, at the time, scary 2nd graders. My parents got divorced when I was seven and we finally moved to Milford, Iowa. I strongly disliked it at first, but I made some awesome friends in 4th grade that stood by my side.
The story of Jonathans encounter with clay is another event that brought tears to my eyes. Clay is one of the students that Johnathan met will
B. “What hurts more, the pain of hard work or the pain of regret?” –Boston Celtics Organization (Instructor would use this quote all the time)
a. I put this first because it sets the tone, it allows me as the educator to
11. What does Peter mean in this conversation with Anne? Anne: You’re making a big mistake about me. I do it all wrong. I say too much.
Being an 8-year-old at a garage sale has a certain smell to it. Sure, there are other senses, the ugly flowery vase teetering on the edge of a plastic folding table. Cigarette smoke everywhere, (it was 1994, smoking was way cooler back then). The early-morning swampy, humid feeling only Southeast Georgia can give you. For me, the only stuff eye-level and remotely interesting were the boxes beneath the tables (and sawhorses with plywood used as tables). Sometimes you could find a handheld game, other times just a pile of cassettes that should have wound up in a trash can instead of in this box marked “25¢ each, 4 for 75¢” in thick permanent marker. These boxes had a particular smell to them. One quarter old paper, one quarter old plastic, and
After I pocket my phone and grab my jet black bag, I walk down the hall, ignoring the few students staring at me as I walk past. If I'm correct, they heard my entire side of the conversation, by the incredulous looks on their faces.
During that time, I just find ways to distract my mind from my work. In school, I may look like I’m paying attention, but I could be spacing out. I try not to of course, but it happens every once in awhile. I admit, I’m not the smartest; I learn slow and may not catch up like other students. My GPA has been 3.5 or above, my class rank is above benchmark and I am improving in STAR test scores, which I am proud of.
III. You may not like that you had to clean your room, or move to another town or
I continue to my class and once again I pass a table set up for blood drive as a reminder for students who want to participate. I head up the stairs to the third floor, pass a newspaper stand with a headline of the Tsunami death toll, and with President Bush’s inauguration date approaching gradually. Can’t stop to grab one, have 30 seconds to get to class. I pass another lounge area with another bunch of students watching television with the channel set on CNN. A New York Stock Exchange report update was going on as I quickly whipped by. Finally I have arrived, and I’m quietly sneaking in heading toward my seat as the professor continues to write important words up on the board to start his
I spent the first hours of school making a protein shake for my science teacher and handing out lemonade to the chemistry class. Then at the start of Block 3, I went back into my car to get more lemonade. It should only have taken fifteen minutes, I wanted to come back to work on my trig homework . I left my backpack at the school before I went out into the school parking lot to find my grey impala.