Preschool Epilogue

Great Essays
In my short life of fourteen years, nothing major or very noteworthy has happened. I don’t have a story yet. So, instead of telling you about little parts of my little life, I’ll tell you about the whole epilogue in my Novel of Life.
First thing first, I was brought into this wonderful world on December 18, 2001, in Westerville, Ohio. Obviously, I don’t remember this, but apparently I was a bit of a fussy baby. Mom has always told me that I was stubborn from the moment I was conceived. I refused to wait until my due date, instead forcing my way into this world a week early. Which, in an abstract way, is what I’m doing with this class. Technically, I shouldn’t be taking this class for four more years, but, what can I say? I’m stubborn and impatient,
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Needless to say that, while I was excited, I was a little scared of Kindergarten. My teacher, Mrs. Jarman, definitely had her hands full with my class, we were a rowdy bunch. I don’t remember much of kindergarten, but I remember the first day of school. We technically lived outside the school district, and mom didn’t want me to go to Marion City schools, so I was open enrolled to River Valley, and every morning, Mom would take me to school. Usually, she couldn’t pick me up, so my grandma usually did. On the first day of school, I walked in in a pink shirt with horizontal sparkly grey stripes, put my school-bag in the cubby, and found a seat. A few moments later, the girl that would become my best friend walked in. I remember asking her to sit next to me because she had really cool bows in her hair, and we had the same shirt. We sat next to each other all day, and by the end of the day, I didn’t want to go home, but I had to. When I met my grandma in the cafeteria, she asked “How was your first day of school?”, and I said, in a very disappointed tone, “Well, I still don’t know how to read, so I guess I’ll have to go back tomorrow.” The rest of kindergarten and first grade went by in a …show more content…
I was eager for the challenge of fifth grade. My teacher in fourth grade, Mrs. Weisgurber, was constantly telling the class that fifth grade is ten times as hard as fourth grade. I guess I probably should’ve believed her on that. Actually, fifth grade was fairly easy, expect for math class. Math had never been my strongest suit, but I usually did well. I had Mrs. Peterson’s math class third period, apparently she gets grouchy after lunch. So, I walk in, confident that I’ll do fine, and immediately I know I am wrong. Mrs. Peterson has been a math teacher for over twenty years, so she knows how to do her job. As per usual, the first week or two is easy, but by the end of the first month, she’d already made half the class cry. It’s not that she was cruel, it’s just that she knew how to get the attention of eleven year olds. Fifth grade was the only year in my history of school that I didn’t get straight A’s. In all the other classes I had at least an A-, but in Mrs. Peterson’s class, I had a C-. Something totally unheard of for me, needless to say, her class was a ‘do well or fail’ class, and I guess I did mediocre at best. During the summer between fourth and fifth grades, I had one of two surgeries on my ankles. I was born with a condition where my ankles rolled in towards each other, and they were almost parallel to the ground, normal ankles are perpendicular to the ground. So, the podiatrist went in and inserted plastic plugs

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