Reflective Essay: The Punishment At Hageman Elementary School

Nobody enjoys receiving a punishment. Especially when one gets accused wrongly. It is probably one of the most angst provoking feelings knowing that one is receiving a negative consequence for something that one would never have done in their life. Especially as an impressionable young child, receiving a severe punishment can leave the person traumatized, never wanting to be confronted by authority again, avoiding them at all costs. Sadly, this awful experience happened to my fifth grade self and I will never forget it. As a young ten year old attending Hagemann Elementary school, I lived as a very quiet, respectful little girl. I did my work, listened to the teacher, and never talked back. It was nearly the end of the year, and the Special …show more content…
Little did I know that I would have plenty of time to observe those walls. The principal led me through a narrow hallway containing five desks for rebellious pupils and into his decorated office. He maneuvered around the three other students standing there looking like raccoons caught rummaging through the garbage cans and took a seat at his laminate wood desk. Adjusting his papers, he looked up at the four of us, eyeing each of us individually. Threatened by the eye contact, I observed the room. The walls were purple, being one of the two of our school’s colors. He had pictures of his family on vacation, standing on a beach, smiling on the walls. His desk was fairly organized, and his chair was plush. Pros of being a teacher, I thought as my principal cleared his throat, unconsciously declaring he was going to …show more content…
My teacher was writing on the shiny white board at the front of class the plot chart of the classic book, Hatchet. I started feeling thirsty. My throat was beginning to feel like the scratchy blanket in the back of the closet that nobody ever uses, so I raised my hand to ask to get a drink. Turning around, the teacher nodded her head at me, declaring that I take the drink pass with me. Screech, my obnoxious chair squeaked as I slid back in my aisle and got up, heading out the wooden door, grabbing the fluorescent drink pass on the way. The hallway was deserted, considering it was the middle of class, I felt like I was in the eye of a hurricane, nothing being disrupted, but surrounded by chaos contained in the classroom caused by many tiny pupils. I walked down the hall, turning a sharp corner right by the water fountain. I held my hair back, leaning over the fountain and pushing the grimy, metal button down, imprinted from several tiny little hands throughout the day. Turning around, I took a couple steps back to my classroom, but halted when I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle. The distant chattering from inside the gym classroom seized and I was left in silence, except for the next sound reverberating in the