Personal Narrative: The Number Of Homelessness In New York

I was strolling on the streets of New York City on my way to work as a science teacher at New York City Schools. I glared at the homeless people on the streets pondering, how did they get there? When I was younger there were many people living on the streets. Now that it is 2052 and I'm forty-two years old, the number of homeless people increased rapidly. I'm hoping I never end up like them. Eventually, I got to school and I went to my class. Like every day, I take a glimpse from the door and all twenty-three students were loud, throwing paper, and talking. I immediately went inside and yelled at them. For the rest of the day, I dealt with rambunctious kids.

Once I started leaving the school I had a humongous headache. I was just ready
to get home ad relax. Now that I'm home, I can grade all the papers then relax but my daughter, Mary, came to visit me. Mary and I chatted about my job and my students. She suggested I treat them better. So I kept that idea in mind, graded the papers, and went to sleep. The next day I had overslept so I had to rush to school. I got very late and as always, the kids were acting insane in my classroom. Using Mary’s advice I walked in and asked them nicely to stop. The kids were surprised I didn't holler at them. After everyone got settled, I got their assignments ready and I didn't give them extremely challenging assignments. Then after thirty minutes, I realized being nice wasn't very effective. To resolve the issue, I stopped being nice and I told the kids to act their age. I got out my whip and whipped a student just as the principal walked in. She immediately yelled, “Mr. Perry, what are you doing?” I stopped whipping the kid and she left the room and asked me to see her after school. I got on with my day with high levels of anxiety.

Immediately after class ended, I headed to the principal's office. She had bad news for me, she said, “Mr.Perry, because of your actions of abuse, I will have to fire you.” I headed straight out the door and into my car. Things just got worse from there. My wife, Katrina, called from New Zealand and said, “When I get back, I want a divorce.” I accepted and I hung up the phone and I started sobbing in my car. I sobbed for four hours in my car and got the whole steering wheel soaked. I finally headed out of the school parking lot and I was en route to the bank. I got to the bank and asked to withdraw seven hundred dollars for my houses rent. The banker told me, “Unfortunately, you have no money left on your account. The last purchase you made was for medical marijuana and cocaine.” I had never bought any of those two. I eventually left the bank and directed home. When I got home the owner was there to give me the worst news. I had lost my home due to not paying the rent. I started to walk to downtown New York City and asked someone on the streets how to live like them. They told me, “find a good place on the side next to a food place and get a box to live in.”