Exercise 3

After moving to Mandeville, Louisiana from Baton Rouge at the beginning of my second grade year, I found myself starting school as the “new girl, ” a role that I worked into with ease. I quickly made friends and established my position as the class clown, driving teachers crazy and getting my name on the board daily. I have always been driven to make people laugh, and school was always the perfect outlet to do so. Of course, that came at a price; my third grade teacher grew so tired of my antics that she finally resorted to moving my desk to an isolated corner of the classroom. I always felt that my teachers frustrated me just as much as I did them, assigning math homework or science projects, when all I wanted to do was color. I muddled through the assignments, half-interested and half-assed, rushing to finish before the sun went down so that I could go outside and play. Middle school for me was a breeding ground for my increasing resistance to academics. I did well enough to make the Honor Roll, but had no real driving force or motivation behind the work I did. I simply wasn’t interested in photosynthesis or long division, but I always perked up when it was time for English. I have always loved reading and writing and the freedom of imagination that they allow me. My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Byers, always encouraged imagination, and usually came up with creative assignments related to a short story that we had read in class. She was one of my favorite teachers, and I always strove to do my best, if only to gain the reward of a smiley face or a “Good job!” scrawled across the top of my paper in her flowing handwriting.