My Personal Experience : My Experience In My School

As we pulled up to the massive elementary school building, I begged my mom to let me stay home from school, just once. As usual, she said no. Realizing my attempt to get out of school was futile, I shouldered my backpack, swung open the door, and trudged over to the front door. I would rather be anywhere else than here. For the majority of my life, I attended public schools. It wasn’t rare for me to fail a test or even a whole class. It was because of these failures that I would get even more demotivated and threw away the idea of working hard or completing quality work altogether.

I walked down the hallways, I was quiet and I kept to myself. I desperately needed something my school seemed to lack- personal space. How bizarre of me to dislike being touched by the skin of another student, who were all practically strangers that would come by in waves, or to get hit by a backpack that was poorly resting on some distraught shoulder. Students were quickly filling the hallways, a mob beginning to tear down the walls, making it difficult to see beyond my own two feet. You see, I've come to the conclusion that no matter how quickly I race out of class at the sound of the bell, I always will get caught in the crowd. It's inevitable. Everyone is always packing themselves into the halls, with no consideration for others, leaving little to no space to get by.

Today I had attended my first class of the Summer 2017 semester. I enrolled into the course EDUC 252 for multiple reasons. One reason for taking this course was that it is a requirement for the Bachelor of General Studies (BGS), an undergraduate degree program at Simon Fraser University (SFU), and this course fit perfectly into my busy schedule this current semester. Another reason for my enrolment into the course EDUC 252 was my pursuit of becoming a teacher. I believe this course will help me as a prospective educator with providing me with various opportunities to develop myself as a reflective practitioner. I have been interested in becoming a teacher for as long as I can remember. Unlike many other children who often had a list of aspirations when growing up, I was adamant on the fact that I wanted to become a teacher and would always announce “when I grow up, I want to be a teacher.” I believe this is a result of the positive impact that my former teachers had on my educational experiences. These teachers played a significant role in my life, helping me to build and accomplish my educational goals. Some of these teachers, I still keep in contact with. For example, over the last few months, I have been shadowing and volunteering in my former Kindergarten and Grade 6 and 7 teachers’ current classrooms.

I hated school and everything that had to do with it, but I always enjoyed making up stories. It was my way, even as a small child, to escape everything. I have always had a very vivid imagination and writing was my way of channeling that. I enjoyed writing about events in my life but would always add a magical twist or have someone there to save the day. On the day, my teacher approached me as I was sitting in class and not paying attention as usual. My notebook was full of all the workings of my imagination.

Day one freshman year, my first thought was that I wasn’t going to make it. I had little faith in my ability to move forward in life. I thought, no I knew I wasn’t going to make it through high school for two reasons: I wasn’t smart enough and I wasn’t ready. In truth I was more than smart enough for the task, but I lacked the confidence. I felt I wasn’t ready for several reasons one being maturity another being anxiety. So throughout my freshman year I struggled to stay afloat because I didn’t believe in myself. It wasn’t until the following year that I started to realize that I was more than smart enough for succeed. My first hint was when I was able (with the help of a teacher) to catch up to my entire algebra class in the matter of a month. Note: I prior to that class I never learnt algebra not even a pre-version of it. So the fact that I managed to catch up to everyone else in the class in the matter of a month was amazing. I then went on to surpass the majority of them when it came to understanding why the formulas worked the way they did. Even with that I still doubted my intelligence, but not just my intelligence I doubted myself as a whole. The year went on and due to having little past experience with reading I was placed in a reading class (several reading classes actually). Although I took a reading class freshman year nothing is really noteworthy. But sophomore year was different, I was placed in a reading class with an older lady as the teacher. She was very

Middle school is about hitting puberty, getting your first real boyfriend/ girlfriend, or even just making friends to begin your journey through life with. But for me, middle school was a wake up call to how awful life could really be. To begin the Dark Ages, sixth grade was full of fashion mistakes. Things like wearing my soccer warm-up to school every day and those I’m-a-girl-but-I’m-secretly-a-boy sport shorts. In seventh grade, I was eaten alive by my insecurities. Causing me to cake my face full of foundations, concealers, and powders, all to cover up the acne that plagued my face. And quite honestly, I don’t remember anything significant about the eighth grade, other than the field trips I always third-wheeled on. Maybe I can’t remember anything important about that time in my life because everything just blurred together with a common theme; sadness.

1. In school, I could never seem to understand as quickly as the other children around me. When I was 8 years old, I remember feeling sad, alone and wondering what was wrong with me. Then in my 3rd grade year at Wagner Holt Elementary School, my mother and father were told by a doctor what was wrong with me. They had been told that I had a learning disability called slow processing. Which makes it hard for me to normally process and comprehend information that I'm being taught. After hearing this, my parents quickly met with my teacher and doctor to discuss what options there were to help me overcome my disability. Next thing I knew, I was being told by my parent's that I learn differently than the other kids and that I had to be placed in a special class. Then shortly later, my parent's decisions had started me on a new challenging journey.

That day I found out If I was a school shooter I would be a straight white male, 79% of the time. However, if I were to go to jail I would find that all I would have had to be, was a different skin color.

San Francisco in 1906. Laughter and questioning was what they heard but all I could hear, were memories of trains flashing by my house and the mutters of drunk and drugged homeless men pacing up and down the streets. At 11 years old, all I wanted was to live in a safe welcoming neighborhood with trees shading the street, letting light flow through the branches at dusk. All I wondered was why my parents chose to live where we did. I was able to avoid having friends over throughout Elementary, but them coming over during middle school was inevitable. The embarrassment I had about where I lived had consumed much of my childhood, but I learned how to be open about who I was and how one aspect of your life does not determine who you are.

The high school I attended was very different. The last two years- junior and senior year- I was allowed to choose the classes I wanted to take. Having this opportunity I always avoided taking an English class. I never enjoyed it and one thing I disliked was writing papers on why I don’t like writing papers. I envied the people who enjoyed writing because as we get older that is a crucial thing we need. In many of my papers I was unable to maintain focus, need to use more transitions words, and lacked the proper knowledge on how to do a correct works cited. I have learned to fix some of my mistakes, but on other things I still need improvement. On my first paper, I struggled with staying focus on my topic. Second essay I struggled with transitioning my ideas from one to another. Lastly, I improved on both my lack of focus on my papers and I included more transition words.

The nerve-wracking feeling of school hit me a month into summer. When I saw the email regarding my class schedule for junior year, AP Chemistry and AP Psychology were listed. Anxiety was stirring within me. Although I had a notion of the challenge I am about to face, I chose to give it a shot. Having the same teacher for both classes, I sat in the same spot for two consecutive periods, feeling clueless. I was walking out of the classroom when my teacher pulled me aside for a word, she gave me a pat on the back, “You’re the only person taking both classes this year, Good luck!” I was not entirely sure if it was an encouragement or a warning. “What have I gotten myself into?”, “What am I doing this for?”, Countless number of questions starts to formulate as I made my way back home.

Throughout my years of school, I often was the top of my class. I excelled in subjects such as science and math, and even could write an essay worthy of applause. In kindergarten, my mother gave our teacher a paper with nine different math problems, all advanced for what we were learning at the time. I had completed them all with ease and efficiency. I was recommended for a program at the school called Challenge. This program was for the students who “thought differently” and “performed tremendously” in normal schooling. I took the qualifying tests and passed and was to begin attending the next week. I recall my parents telling me sometime later that the instructor for that class told my parents that she had never seen such a young boy with the intelligence I had.

As you grow old and begin your adventure through high school your mind begins to grasp the darkness this world has to offer. Remember that at the end of the path it’s the choices you make and don’t make that will determine what will be at the end of the trail. You are fifteen now my grandson and I know from experience that the evil of this world has already presented itself to you in many forms. Alcohol, drugs, and drama are all a part of life and what many go through including myself. The high school is full of new experiences and the decisions you choose to make that will stick with you for a lifetime.

Before I moved to the United States, I went to school in Mexico for about nine years. School has rarely been difficult for me. I’m a fast learner. But as any other thing, school has its bad side too. It was the one that stopped the fairy tale I was living in, and got myself into real life. Movies made me believe that life was going to be easy. That no matter how many dilemmas I’d encounter, people were going to be there for me and help me get through it. School taught me that people don’t want to see other people succeed, it is impossible to compete with the teacher’s favorite, and that good grades are not the only thing needed.

I have always been a shy person since I have been a little kid. I have been always nervous to go do things with people or to make a mistake in front of people. I remember in the 7th grade, the teacher called on me, and I had been paying attention, but I got the question confused so I said something that was wrong. I felt the whole class just stare at me and laugh. Ever since then I have always struggled with self confidence. I lacked self confidence in just about everything, like what clothes to wear, what to say to people, talking in front of a class, or walking in front of people.