Free Essays on Childhood Event

Perfect Student An old substitute stood before our loud fifth grade class. Usually, we didn’t act this way but both of our teachers were gone, so everyone saw this chance for freedom. â€Å"Sit down in your seats,† she barked. Since our regular teacher had never yelled at us, every child’s face illustrated the amazement to this new idea. Then she handed out what seemed to be a thousand papers, none of which stimulated our minds, especially me. I sat there attempting to do some of the papers she had assigned. I wasn’t a bad child, nor did I want to be. I usually did my work as I was told to, but this day I was feeling unusually rebellious, almost as though a burst of energy had shot through my young undeveloped body. I ripped a piece of paper out of my notebook and scribbled a note to a classmate, a note which normally I would not have wrote a note which I swore in. In my note I depicted the substitute as a â€Å"bitch† and stated that I wanted this day to end so I could go home. Though this note does not seem as important to me now, it did then. It was very important; I wasn’t the type of child to do anything like this. I told my classmate to rip up the note and throw it away after she finished reading it. Most of the boys in my class had not left the kindergarten maturity level yet, so they had this idea that picking through the trash and recycling bin to find note pieces was fun. They picked through and pieced entire notes back together. Of course my note was found, pieced back together and handed to the principal. So there I sat alone in the principal’s office, a room I had never seen the interior of. The only time I talked to the man was the occasional times he entered our fifth grade classroom to speak with our nutty teachers. I was the quintessential good girl. I never did anything to upset a teacher, and there I sat awaiting my trial. He slowly entered the room, closing the large metal door, which looked ... Free Essays on Childhood Event Free Essays on Childhood Event Perfect Student An old substitute stood before our loud fifth grade class. Usually, we didn’t act this way but both of our teachers were gone, so everyone saw this chance for freedom. â€Å"Sit down in your seats,† she barked. Since our regular teacher had never yelled at us, every child’s face illustrated the amazement to this new idea. Then she handed out what seemed to be a thousand papers, none of which stimulated our minds, especially me. I sat there attempting to do some of the papers she had assigned. I wasn’t a bad child, nor did I want to be. I usually did my work as I was told to, but this day I was feeling unusually rebellious, almost as though a burst of energy had shot through my young undeveloped body. I ripped a piece of paper out of my notebook and scribbled a note to a classmate, a note which normally I would not have wrote a note which I swore in. In my note I depicted the substitute as a â€Å"bitch† and stated that I wanted this day to end so I could go home. Though this note does not seem as important to me now, it did then. It was very important; I wasn’t the type of child to do anything like this. I told my classmate to rip up the note and throw it away after she finished reading it. Most of the boys in my class had not left the kindergarten maturity level yet, so they had this idea that picking through the trash and recycling bin to find note pieces was fun. They picked through and pieced entire notes back together. Of course my note was found, pieced back together and handed to the principal. So there I sat alone in the principal’s office, a room I had never seen the interior of. The only time I talked to the man was the occasional times he entered our fifth grade classroom to speak with our nutty teachers. I was the quintessential good girl. I never did anything to upset a teacher, and there I sat awaiting my trial. He slowly entered the room, closing the large metal door, which looked ...