Flowers essay
Jessica Manginelli
English 9H
Per.1
12-04-12
Flowers
It was the first day of Teacher Appreciation Week in 3rd grade, and no one really did anything for their teacher except maybe give them a hug and say thanks, or maybe the occasional suck up would give them candy. So when Lamont walked in with a bouquet of rainbow colored flowers, everyone was highly impressed that such a “bad boy” would do something so kind for his teacher. That day he shocked everyone who paid attention, but his actions made me bitter.
At the beginning of 3rd grade, a new boy moved to my school. It was rumored he got expelled from his old school for fighting, smoking, or doing other unimaginably bad things and that’s why he had to move. But I, on the other hand, was the model student; perfect grades, never talking in class, and teachers just adoring me was the reputation that I loved to fulfill. But one of my biggest flaws at the time, as many can teens can attest, was my fashion sense. My clothes made me look like the dorky goody goody I was deep down inside. My staple attire contained: one oversized t-shirt, one pair of jeans with holes in the knees, one sweater tied around my waist, and to top it all off a messy, horrifyingly frizzy and poufy ponytail. But as a little eight year old kid, I wasn’t one to consider the appearance of my clothes important, but rather the functionality of them.
I personally, had no interest in involving myself with such an uncontrollable student—I later learned his name is Lamont—. But he did not have the same idea. When he ended up moving into my class he took it upon himself to really get to know me. Every day, before class started, he would walk up to me with a smug smile and mockingly say, “Hello beautiful.” I would always reply in answer, “Goodbye ugly.” and storm away. I wasn’t acting like the nice little girl all my teachers knew, but then again, he wasn’t the nice little boy that I was used to talking to either. But no matter what I would say to make him
English 9H
Per.1
12-04-12
Flowers
It was the first day of Teacher Appreciation Week in 3rd grade, and no one really did anything for their teacher except maybe give them a hug and say thanks, or maybe the occasional suck up would give them candy. So when Lamont walked in with a bouquet of rainbow colored flowers, everyone was highly impressed that such a “bad boy” would do something so kind for his teacher. That day he shocked everyone who paid attention, but his actions made me bitter.
At the beginning of 3rd grade, a new boy moved to my school. It was rumored he got expelled from his old school for fighting, smoking, or doing other unimaginably bad things and that’s why he had to move. But I, on the other hand, was the model student; perfect grades, never talking in class, and teachers just adoring me was the reputation that I loved to fulfill. But one of my biggest flaws at the time, as many can teens can attest, was my fashion sense. My clothes made me look like the dorky goody goody I was deep down inside. My staple attire contained: one oversized t-shirt, one pair of jeans with holes in the knees, one sweater tied around my waist, and to top it all off a messy, horrifyingly frizzy and poufy ponytail. But as a little eight year old kid, I wasn’t one to consider the appearance of my clothes important, but rather the functionality of them.
I personally, had no interest in involving myself with such an uncontrollable student—I later learned his name is Lamont—. But he did not have the same idea. When he ended up moving into my class he took it upon himself to really get to know me. Every day, before class started, he would walk up to me with a smug smile and mockingly say, “Hello beautiful.” I would always reply in answer, “Goodbye ugly.” and storm away. I wasn’t acting like the nice little girl all my teachers knew, but then again, he wasn’t the nice little boy that I was used to talking to either. But no matter what I would say to make him