My eyelids drooped slowly. “Just keep them open,” I told myself over and over in my head. I stared at my teacher intently with tired eyes
The first time I saw it, I could not take my eyes off of it. There was something about the little girl in the photograph that was charmingly simplistic yet complex at the same time. Her eyes were playful but the expression on her face was placid
Maya Angelou once said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
It was a hot, spring day – one that was hard to come by that year – and the eight of us walked across the football field to the opposite side of the track.
My interest started at a young age. Like most children, I went through a phase in early elementary school where rambunctious puppies and mischievous kittens were the most enticing creatures on earth; their big round eyes, soft warm fur, and playful, naïve nature were enough to keep any child captivated for hours.
They thought I was incredibly odd at first. My mother thought I had a disease, the schoolteacher thought I was a different species, and my sister just thought I was funny.
June 29, 1997. A 32 year-old single mother, living on welfare, publishes a magic-based fantasy novel, titled Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.
By Johanna Fleischman and Elvis Wong Rebecca Gehlen, 12 “I was late to school and I stayed at home. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t going to school, and I remember my mom saying, ‘Shut up, you are watching history.’ I was in third grade. I didn’t understand what was [...]
Despite the sharp memories my peers have from 9/11, I barely remember the attack. Whether out of protection or fright, I do not remember my parents telling their third-grade daughter about the collapse of the Twin Towers.
Osama bin Laden has been killed.