Fourth Grade – It was a crisp day in early fall. The wind was blowing softly. The fourth graders were lined up outside, ready to go in after a fun day of recess, eager to get away from the chilliness. The fifth graders were already outside, engaging in a rowdy, yet fun game of kickball. The anticipation of going inside lead to no one noticing how a boy kicked the red ball too far out, and it went above the young grade of children. I stood in the line, unknowing of my fate of meeting that very ball. I awaited the time whenever we would go outside, the fact that I forgot my jacket added to my impatient ways. I looked up, unsuspecting. Then all of a sudden, I felt something collide with my face, a sharp pain rushing through my nose. Tears
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Ninth Grade – This was something that happened very recently to me. It was October third. It was near the end of school, everyone was waiting for the bell to ring so they can go home. I was sitting with my friends in sixth hour. It was my favorite class, Drama.
“It’s called a burn box.” The teacher introduced a box to us. You write something down, put it in the box, and then she burns it. It’s a good way to let things out, without having to approach someone about the subject at hand.
As the writing started, the teacher dimmed the lights, the only thing that helped us see was a small lamp near the wall, and the bright screen projected on the board.
I wrote about something that was very hard to write about, something that I have never talked to anyone about before. It was almost relieving, to talk about things that I haven’t confided someone in. I wrote half a page worth of things that I needed to get off of my chest. After I was done, the paper was folded up, and slid into the box, never to be seen by me again.
After that, I decided that I shouldn’t keep things to myself all the time, especially if it’s something that’s bothering me a lot. Talking, or even writing about it, is a great way to help express myself and what I’m
Ninth Grade – This was something that happened very recently to me. It was October third. It was near the end of school, everyone was waiting for the bell to ring so they can go home. I was sitting with my friends in sixth hour. It was my favorite class, Drama.
“It’s called a burn box.” The teacher introduced a box to us. You write something down, put it in the box, and then she burns it. It’s a good way to let things out, without having to approach someone about the subject at hand.
As the writing started, the teacher dimmed the lights, the only thing that helped us see was a small lamp near the wall, and the bright screen projected on the board.
I wrote about something that was very hard to write about, something that I have never talked to anyone about before. It was almost relieving, to talk about things that I haven’t confided someone in. I wrote half a page worth of things that I needed to get off of my chest. After I was done, the paper was folded up, and slid into the box, never to be seen by me again.
After that, I decided that I shouldn’t keep things to myself all the time, especially if it’s something that’s bothering me a lot. Talking, or even writing about it, is a great way to help express myself and what I’m