School
childhood
When I was in year one, my teacher was Miss Harris. I don’t remember her face but I remember she put in a transfer to and cried when she found out she was then placed at Blackbutt. The class laughed at the name when she told us, and so did she but I saw her cry regret to the principle; she wanted to go to a bigger town, not a smaller one. Rockhampton was a small town. There was a boy who sat in the desk 3 rows in front of me and he got the most stickers for doing good things. It was a token economy and he could always choose first which toys or games to play. One day he got bitten by a redback spider, that had made a home in the cut up tires that served as something to play on. The tires where painted in bright colours and where stuck in the sand and we would sit on them or jump over them or crawl under them, and that was fun then. He didn’t cry but went very pale and Miss Harris had to shout for the PE teacher Mr Harrison to carry him to the sickbay. Mr Harrison scooped him up in his hairy arms and jogged up the path to the nurse. It wasn’t a calm jog. It was a jog that suggested that Mr Harrison was worried and that he had to rush before the poison made the boy sicker. When Miss Harris collected the rest of us kids to settle back into class, she packed up his belongings on his desk and packed up his backpack. Because I was the second one in the class with the most stickers for the week, she sent me on the errand to take his backpack up to the sickbay, assumedly because he would be going to hospital. Doing errands for the teacher was a reward for getting stickers sometimes. I carried his backpack up to the building at the front of the school. This is where the sick room was, which was also where the principal’s office was, the teachers' cafeteria, and the administration lady. The principal smiled at me as I walked in and the administration lady ushered me into the sick room to see the boy. He was sitting on the sick room bed, with the Nurse making a phone call and Mr Harrison sitting next to him. Mr Harrison was drawing a watch on the boy’s arm in felt pen and the boy looked happy. The time on the watch was the time it was then. Mr Harrison thanked me and said I could get another sticker from Miss Harris when I returned to class. I went back to her and the class. I didn’t tell her about the extra sticker I could get. For the rest of the school day we learnt about spiders and had to make get well soon cards for the boy. Most of us drew redback spiders on the card. When my mum picked me up from school, I didn’t tell her about what happened to the boy. I thought about the watch all afternoon whilst playing in the backyard looking for spiders.
By kylie saab4 years ago in Confessions
Just Your Local Campus Barista
As you probably already know, college is expensive. And no one knows financial pressure like the full-time student and part-time worker (clocking in over 25 hours a week) who is trying to earn money for the monthly tuition payment and still keep their grades up to keep the academic scholarship they can't go to school without.
By Hailey C. Hughes4 years ago in Confessions
Trapped in a stairwell
Most of the time, when someone finds themselves trapped somewhere, that "somewhere" will either be in traffic before work, in a shower as the result of unknowingly not having a towel to wear on the way to their room, or a bad date that results in some really awkward moments. In my situation, I happened to find myself trapped in a stairwell.
By Maurice Williamson 4 years ago in Confessions
Wonderland of Canada
A Facebook friend was posting a trip about Wonderland and it brought back fun memories of my youth. My mom was very strict but she give me permission to go on this class field trip. I was graduating 8th grade from my Catholic school name, Annunciation. The school is now closed down. I was very lucky to have a diverse classmates. We had classmates from all ethnicities; Spanish, Russia, Irish, Italian, Scottish, India, African American and Asian descents.
By Mariann Carroll4 years ago in Confessions
Confessions From a Paraprofessional
I hate my kids. I don't have any biological children, but I have always looked at my students as my kids. I understand that not all of them are growing up with parents the way that I did. Two parents who love unconditionally, support dreams like it's their job, and listen to you even when their day was harder. I try to be that person for them. Someone who will listen to them even when they tell me to go fuck myself. Who helps them, not only academically but emotionally. Who believes in them even when they don't believe in themselves. Yet now I hate them, and I dread going to school a little more every day.
By Kelsey Winds4 years ago in Confessions
The Best Piece Of Candy I Ever Had
I’ve been sad for most of my life, I had to find ways to comfort myself and do little things to make myself feel better. Most of that was in the form of a piece of candy I would have a little basket and I would take one before I went to bed, I would have a couple in my pocket and hope it didn’t melt before I could eat it. There’s a distinction between using food to come for yourself and then using food to fill a void. I never treated food to fill a void, it was just something to make me feel better for five minutes and then I could bounce back and never develop an unhealthy eating disorder.
By Samantha Parrish4 years ago in Confessions
ADHD Isn't just “difficulty paying attention"
ADHD Is misunderstood I think. people with ADD or ADHD are written off as just being hyper or easily distracted. I haven’t even really fully understood what it means to have ADHD until recently, and I was diagnosed at When I was a lot younger. I'm now 23. here is some information to help you learn about it...
By Shelby smith 💖 4 years ago in Confessions
I'm Done Apologising for My Slow Processing...
I have struggled with a learning disability and slow processing speed since First school. Slow processing speed is exactly what it sounds like — the brain takes in and responds to stimulate and other information much slower than “normal.” I vividly remember always taking longer than everyone else to do basic things like complete a short worksheet, do my part of an in-class group work assignment, and take a test. Although I may work at a “slower” pace than my peers, the pace I work at allows me to access my work and complete it to the best of my ability.
By Shelby smith 💖 4 years ago in Confessions
My White Whale
My mom likes to say that she and I have the gift of BS. Give us the worst, most barren topic, and we’ll still be able to eke out a surprisingly substantial and meaningful response. It comes in handy when you’re stuck making idle chit-chat on a customer service line or forced talking with the great aunt you’ve avoided the entire family dinner. Of course, since I was an English major, this skill has been a lifesaver with essays. It even won me a place in my university’s annual anthology with an essay about a book I dislike. I even wrote it while suffering from a migraine attack (and if you don’t know just how much of a miracle that is, I envy you).
By Stephanie Hoogstad4 years ago in Confessions
Chronology of Secrets Kept Close to My Chest
MIDDLE SCHOOL: Mommy, do you know how many fights I got into in middle school? To count I need more fingers than two fists can hold. I say it is for your honor. Like leaving the kids at school with scars is enough to keep them from snickering at your schizophrenia. It isn't, and it takes one too many suspensions for me to find that out. Schizophrenia and stupid are not synonyms! There is a boy in my class who uses the two interchangeably like that is enough for me to change how I see you. It isn't, and it takes one too many hits for him to get it through his head. Schizophrenia and stupid are not synonyms he knows that now, but Schizophrenia and embarrassment have been conjoined twins of torture in my life.
By Maya Wright4 years ago in Confessions
