When I moved into my current apartment this past June, my father came to visit, bearing gifts (lamps, blankets, kitchen stuff). He also brought with him my favorite puppet, Rocky the raccoon, and an essay I wrote in 6th grade, which has since lived on my refridgerator. Every time a new guest comes over, we read the essay. It's become somewhat famous in my circle of friends here and I thought I'd share it with you. Click on the image to see a large, readable version.
Notice the left-handed check-plus. That was done by my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Richards. When I was in her class, I thought she was the most evil woman on Earth. Now that I'm older, I see that she pushed us hard and that I'm a better student for it.
Thanks, Mrs. Richards.
1 comment:
I had a Spanish teacher I hated so much that I stopped taking Spanish (in the middle of the third year) in that school. When we moved to another state before the start of 12th grade, I enrolled in Spanish 3 again. Almost immediately, I transferred into Spanish 4 because this Spanish 3 class was learning material I had learned in Spanish 2. The Spanish 4 class was learning things I had learned late in first semester Spanish 3! I am grateful that the teacher I hated was pushing us, since I went on to become fairly fluent in Spanish for a while.
Post a Comment