School Flaws and Teacher Claws

School starts tomorrow and I’m dreading it. I’m upset that school is something teens despise and do not enjoy. School should promote education by caring about us students more instead of watching us fall behind and put pressure on us. They should celebrate a student’s improvement even if they’re still below average. I feel like teachers do not try to help students reach their full potential. Everybody learns better in different environments and with different tactics. For example, I learn best when there are hands on activities or conversations/ debates involving the whole class. All we do is read textbooks and take notes from a PowerPoint. Yes, some students do fine with just that, but the majority of students bullshit their way through high school because they can’t learn from just reading and memorizing old information from a fat book. Us students only remember the information just enough to pass the tests, but forget it shortly after. Schools/ Teachers should use different ways of teaching for example connect the information to modern day situations and events, class deliberations, and hands on activities with visuals that could only expand a students knowledge. (We don’t even learn basic life skills, proper grammar, or appropriate vocabulary as we get older.)

Keeping students more involved by giving them endless opportunities to participate and feel safe speaking their minds will keep them engaged in class and therefore increase interest in education and school. We want students to look forward to a class because there’s a debate that day, or because they’re working in groups to voice their ideas and listen to and respect that of others. Also, by hearing other students ideas could also expand knowledge because nobody thinks the same, so it makes students think outside the box. I wish teachers were able to care enough for their students and realize textbook work isn’t doing much for anyone. I’m thankful that I’m graduating this year. Who knows what I’ll be doing from then on, but it’ll be better than high school.

Side Note: With all the changes in society with constant changing technology and current issues globally and locally, we’re not being taught corresponding to what’s going on in the real world. There’s no connection between the information we are taught in school and what would be useful in today’s world. Every generation in different, so how are they teaching the same things, the same ways every year for decades?

American Horror Story: New Year’s Eve (True Story)

emilie's mind.

It was the night of New Year’s Eve, filled with drinks and laughter, but outside was a cold, sketchy night on a dead-end. We got kicked out earlier than planned, so I got a ride home from a friend. I thought my parents were home from their party because both cars were in the driveway of our house, so my friends left before I got into my house thinking I would be fine.

I knocked on the front door and nobody answered. I ran to the side door, no answer. I took my bag an emptied it on the front deck multiple times to get my key, but I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t call my parents to let them know I was home early and locked out because my phone died, of course. The longer I was outside the more numb my body was getting. All I wore was a…

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American Horror Story: New Year’s Eve (True Story)

It was the night of New Year’s Eve, filled with drinks and laughter, but outside was a cold, sketchy night on a dead-end. We got kicked out earlier than planned, so I got a ride home from a friend. I thought my parents were home from their party because both cars were in the driveway of our house, so my friends left before I got into my house thinking I would be fine.

I knocked on the front door and nobody answered. I ran to the side door, no answer. I took my bag an emptied it on the front deck multiple times to get my key, but I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t call my parents to let them know I was home early and locked out because my phone died, of course. The longer I was outside the more numb my body was getting. All I wore was a small dress, a sweater, and boots. Although I was numb, the cold was stinging my body. I tried the garage to get the emergency key, but couldn’t remember the code because I hardly ever use it.

It was one o’clock in the morning, below freezing, I was drunk, the neighbors were sleeping, I had no way of contacting anyone, I was too numb to walk to a friend’s house, so I did what I thought was my only option. I had to break into my own house. I went to my basement window, the smallest, but easiest window to access, and I tried to open it, but it was locked for once, the night I needed it most. I still tried to open it and unlock it from outside, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. I started punching the window, underestimating it’s strength, and it wouldn’t open or break. I stood up, took a breath, and kicked the window with all the energy I had left. Glass shattered everywhere. With my hand, I started to hit the leftover broken glass that was around the edges so I could fit through, then I took my bag and dove into the window and onto my couch right below it.

It was pitch black. I knew I landed on a pile of broken glass, but I didn’t acknowledge what I had just done because my goal was to go upstairs and call my parents to tell them I got home safely, so I thought. I was trying to find the light switches as I was stumbling through my house. I finally got the house phone and called my parents so they knew they weren’t picking me up from the party anymore. After, I sat down on the couch to finally relax after the long night I had. About ten minutes later, still numb from the cold, I felt a weird, sticky substance on my hands. I looked down and started crying hysterically.My hands were covered in my own blood. As I looked around I realized there was blood on my stockings, dress, the phone, the walls and light switches, and big drops on the floor all throughout the house.Why did I think I would be okay? I had just dove into a narrow window surrounded with broken pieces of thick, sharp glass. I called my parents right away and luckily they had just pulled up into the driveway.

When my parents opened the door, I was standing there covered in blood, make-up running down my face. They helped me right away by wrapping layers of bandages and medical tape all over my bloody hands as I cried and explained to them everything that happened. The pain hit me slowly as my body defrosted and got out of the shock I put it in. I was exhausted from the stress and fear I had to go through. I was just relieved and finally felt safe for the first time that night.

Bad choices make good stories.