Audre(y) Lorde

(i am so sorry this is late i was sick and i'm doing my best to catch up D:)

Audre Lorde, in her early years of school, had many different teachers. The first one, though it may not be obvious, is Mrs. Baker. Mrs. Baker is the whole reason Audre wanted to learn to read. Audre describes Mrs. Baker as a very quiet person with a voice that gave no "damnation for my noise." Mrs. Baker gave Audre the drive to want to learn to read and write, which her mother was very happy about.

The second, more obvious teacher would be Audre's kindergarden teacher (who I will refer to as Mrs. K). At first, it seems that Mrs K will be strict, but nice, but the reader soon finds out that this is not true. Mrs K called Audre fat straight to her face, which is very traumatizing for a girl at such a young age. Audre also already knew how to write the alphabet with a pencil, but Mrs K didn't like that. Mrs K wanted Audre to learn slowly with the other kids in class. Mrs K ended up trying to get Audre in trouble with her mother, but Audre's mother just took her straight to Catholic school to be put into 1st grade.

The third obvious teacher would be Sister Mary. This is Audre's first encounter of harsh racism, as seen with the "Fairies" and "Brownies", with the Brownies being the 'bad' side of the room. Even though the reader doesn't see Sister Mary teaching Audre anything academically important, she remembers the racism.

The last 'teacher' is her classmate, Alvin. Though it is not as obvious, Alvin was Audre's first experience in loss. They were just beginning to become friends, teaching each other numbers and words, when he died of TB. Even though Audre only learned three numbers from him (8, 10, and 20), he was able to teach her something meaningful - the importance of friends.

Final Essay #1

Kelsey Hammond

English 101

Exam #1

High school was hard for me – in fact, it's hard for almost everybody. Those awkward years of trying to figure out who you really are and the type of people you fit in with, only to have it ripped apart when you reach college; it's a terrifying time in everyone's life, especially if you don't have many friends. High school was hard for me for 3 reasons; 1) I hated everyone at my school. The girls were mean, the boys were stupid, and the staff favoured the mean and the dumb. 2) My best friend had moved away, leaving me alone. I had my boyfriend, who is now my best friend, but the sting was still the same. 3) My French 3 class was literally full of people who were friends with each other.

But let's rewind a little. Before we discuss the hell of French 3, I need to describe my other classes. I didn't have particularly hard subjects – in fact, they were pretty easy for me. I was taking three AP classes (English, Photography, and Psychology), and I did very well in them. The fact that I didn't like anyone in the school didn't hurt my grades one bit.

I had lunch after third period (Photography), and I always dreaded going to French 3 right after. Complaining to my twin sister and my boyfriend, Josh, never really helped much with my frustration. I hated going, and I thought nothing was going to change that.

The class was really small – people wise and space wise. There was only maybe 15 kids in my class, but we had the portable room outside with the wasps nest right hanging over the door. We all had assigned seats that my teacher, Mme Haveman, would change every month or so. That was fine and all, but it also meant that I couldn't just sit in the corner away from everyone like I wanted. No, fate would decide to have me sit literally in the middle of the room surrounded by people I really could care less about.

In any other class, this wouldn't have bothered me that much. I would just ignore everyone and talk to my boyfriend or my sister. But, alas, I didn't have either of them in my class. Most of the time, I tried to not talk to or acknowledge anyone sitting near me, but Mme Haveman loved to have us talk in broken French to each other.

To top it all off, everyone was friends with each other. I am not joking. Normally, it wouldn't really bother me that no one in a class would talk to me, but my teacher always tried so hard to pair me up with people to do projects with. I understand that she was looking out for me and probably felt bad that I didn't have any friends, but I didn't want to talk to these people, especially the girl who sat next to me who would boast about going to Sweden with her family every summer. I just smiled my way through it though, and did my best to be nice to these classmates that I hated. People usually didn't like Mme Haveman because she was very strict (she had also replaced our old French teacher, Mr Johnson) and didn't take BS from anyone, which caused kids to talk bad about her behind her back. I liked her because I thought she was doing a good job at filling an old teachers shoes, and I always said kind things about her to Josh and my sister.

One day, Mme Haveman was absent from school. We had a substitute teacher, and I think you can figure out how class went that day – no one sat in their assigned seat, no work was done, and everyone pretty much goofed off. Personally, I just sat in the corner, turned on my iPod and ignored everyone. Oh, I did the classwork. And the homework. Then I did homework for my other classes. I actually got caught up with all my other classes, so it didn't really bother me much that no one was talking to me. To be honest, I quite enjoyed it, even if I was a bit bored by the end of the period.

Well, the next day, Mme Haveman came back from being sick. She was mad at the class, mainly because the sub had left a note saying that the whole class had just goofed off, except for a couple of people. To be honest, I kind of tuned her out because I knew she wasn't talking about me. I started on my classwork while she lectured the other kids.

It wasn't until she said the words, “It is not right to leave one person out in the whole class,” that I realized she was talking about me. I tried not to think about it and kept working.

Class went on as normal. We all learned some French that I can't remember today anyway, but it was still a normal class. Then, class ended. I always breathed a sigh of relief when class ended, because my next period was AP Psychology, which I loved.

That day was not my lucky day though. Mme Haveman asked me to stay after class. It's not that I didn't like her, but staying after class never meant anything good.

She waited for everyone else to leave the classroom before turning to me from her desk and simply asked, “How are you doing today?”

I was even more confused. Why did she have to wait for everyone to be gone just to ask me how my day was? “I'm fine.” I replied.

Her face became a little more serious. I was starting to get a little nervous now. Teachers had always made me slightly weary, and I really hate getting in trouble with them. It seemed like she was collecting her thoughts, so I waited patiently for her to continue.

After a couple seconds, she began talking again. “It's just, you know, the sub left a note about everyone, and I was worried about you.”

Then it hit me. She wasn't mad at me, she wasn't lecturing me, she wasn't blaming me. She was worried about me. Mme Haveman knew that the sub had been talking about me in the note; she realized that the whole class had left me out. She was mad at them for doing that to me. My French teacher just lectured everyone about leaving me out.

I can't for the life of me remember what I said to her after that. I think it's because I was so amazed that a teacher, someone who literally knew next to nothing about me, stood up for me. I do remember crying about it later, though, because it meant to much to me that she did that. Even Josh was surprised at what she had said to those kids.

Never in my life had a teacher stood up so totally completely for me. I don't think a teacher will every do that again.

Mme Haveman was really nice to me for the rest of the year, always asking how I was doing, or what my plans for summer were, or asking how my boyfriend was doing. Of course, I warmed up to her right away – she was a very nice person, and people just didn't give her credit for it.

My classmates attitude changed after that. They included me more - while Mme Haveman was there, forcing us to be in groups doing projects together. I eventually realized that it was all for show, but I found that I didn't really care either way what they thought of me.  

The thing that really stuck with me about this whole experience is that someone really stood up for me in a way no one had done before. This wasn't just my best friend telling the class bully to leave me alone – this was a teacher telling a whole group of students to be nice to me. Not even my own mother had done that before, and here was this new, young teacher (who was probably worried about people liking her at her new job) stood up for me

You may be wondering – what did I learn from this? What was the life lesson Mme Haveman taught me? Well, I learned that the most unlikely people may be looking out for you. Believing a teacher wouldn't care about how their students are doing is the wrong mindset. Teachers do care; you just need to give them a chance to show it. I don't suggest, however, to put yourself through bullying in order to recieve this treatment. It's just merely a reminder to kids that teachers are there to help you and are there to listen to your problems - either personal or educational.

I also learned that what those kids were doing – ignoring me and purposefully leaving me out – was a form of bullying. Before this incident in French 3, I never really saw ignoring people as a form of bullying. When I was in Elementary school, they didn’t really teach us that ignoring kids on purpose was a form of bullying – that was something that came about later, when I was too old to really care about it. But now that I’m much older, I do understand and realize how much it can hurt people.

Rough Draft Version 2

High school was hard for me – in fact, it's hard for almost everybody. Those awkward years of trying to figure out who you really are and the type of people you fit in with, only to have it ripped apart when you reach college; it's a terrifying time in everyone's life, especially if you don't have many friends. High school was hard for me for 3 reasons; 1) I hated everyone at my school. The girls were mean, the boys were stupid, and the staff favoured the mean and the dumb. 2) My best friend had moved away, leaving me alone. I had my boyfriend, who is now my best friend, but the sting was still the same. 3) My French 3 class was literally full of people who were friends with each other.

But let's rewind a little. Before we discuss the hell of French 3, I need to describe my other classes. I didn't have particularly hard subjects – in fact, they were pretty easy for me. I was taking three AP classes (English, Photography, and Psychology), and I did very well in them. The fact that I didn't like anyone in the school didn't hurt my grades one bit.

I had lunch after third period (Photography), and I always dreaded going to French 3 right after. Complaining to my twin sister and my boyfriend, Josh, never really helped much with my frustration. I hated going, and I thought nothing was going to change that.

The class was really small – people wise and space wise. There was only maybe 15 kids in my class, but we had the portable room outside with the wasps nest right hanging over the door. We all had assigned seats that my teacher, Mme Haveman, would change every month or so. That was fine and all, but it also meant that I couldn't just sit in the corner away from everyone like I wanted. No, fate would decide to have me sit literally in the middle of the room surrounded by people I really could care less about.

In any other class, this wouldn't have bothered me that much. I would just ignore everyone and talk to my boyfriend or my sister. But, alas, I didn't have either of them in my class. Most of the time, I tried to not talk to or acknowledge anyone sitting near me, but Mme Haveman loved to have us talk in broken French to each other.

To top it all off, everyone was friends with each other. I am not joking. Normally, it wouldn't really bother me that no one in a class would talk to me, but my teacher always tried so hard to pair me up with people to do projects with. I understand that she was looking out for me and probably felt bad that I didn't have any friends, but I didn't want to talk to these people, especially the girl who sat next to me who would boast about going to Sweden with her family every summer. I just smiled my way through it though, and did my best to be nice to these classmates that I hated. People usually didn't like Mme Haveman because she was very strict (she had also replaced our old French teacher, Mr Johnson) and didn't take BS from anyone, which caused kids to talk bad about her behind her back. I liked her because I thought she was doing a good job at filling an old teachers shoes, and I always said kind things about her to Josh and my sister.

One day, Mme Haveman was absent from school. We had a substitute teacher, and I think you can figure out how class went that day – no one sat in their assigned seat, no work was done, and everyone pretty much goofed off. Personally, I just sat in the corner, turned on my iPod and ignored everyone. Oh, I did the classwork. And the homework. Then I did homework for my other classes. I actually got caught up with all my other classes, so it didn't really bother me much that no one was talking to me. To be honest, I quite enjoyed it, even if I was a bit bored by the end of the period.

Well, the next day, Mme Haveman came back from being sick. She was mad at the class, mainly because the sub had left a note saying that the whole class had just goofed off, except for a couple of people. To be honest, I kind of tuned her out because I knew she wasn't talking about me. I started on my classwork while she lectured the other kids.

It wasn't until she said the words, “It is not right to leave one person out in the whole class,” that I realized she was talking about me. I tried not to think about it and kept working.

Class went on as normal. We all learned some French that I can't remember today anyway, but it was still a normal class. Then, class ended. I always breathed a sigh of relief when class ended, because my next period was AP Psychology, which I loved.

That day was not my lucky day though. Mme Haveman asked me to stay after class. It's not that I didn't like her, but staying after class never meant anything good.

She waited for everyone else to leave the classroom before turning to me from her desk and simply asked, “How are you doing today?”

I was even more confused. Why did she have to wait for everyone to be gone just to ask me how my day was? “I'm fine.” I replied.

Her face became a little more serious. I was starting to get a little nervous now. Teachers had always made me slightly weary, and I really hate getting in trouble with them. It seemed like she was collecting her thoughts, so I waited patiently for her to continue.

After a couple seconds, she began talking again. “It's just, you know, the sub left a note about everyone, and I was worried about you.”

Then it hit me. She wasn't mad at me, she wasn't lecturing me, she wasn't blaming me. She was worried about me. Mme Haveman knew that the sub had been talking about me in the note; she realized that the whole class had left me out. She was mad at them for doing that to me. My French teacher just lectured everyone about leaving me out.

I can't for the life of me remember what I said to her after that. I think it's because I was so amazed that a teacher, someone who literally knew next to nothing about me, stood up for me. I do remember crying about it later, though, because it meant to much to me that she did that. Even Josh was surprised at what she had said to those kids.

Never in my life had a teacher stood up so totally completely for me. I don't think a teacher will every do that again.

Mme Haveman was really nice to me for the rest of the year, always asking how I was doing, or what my plans for summer were, or asking how my boyfriend was doing. Of course, I warmed up to her right away – she was a very nice person, and people just didn't give her credit for it.

Sure, my classmates were nice to me on a very impersonal level, but I was never really included with them. They did it for show, just to make themselves look better for leaving me out. And it was usually only when Mme Haveman said we were working with partners or groups that they were nice to me. It didn't really bother me, I could care less what they think about me.

The thing that really stuck with me about this whole experience is that someone really stood up for me. This wasn't just my best friend telling the class bully to leave me alone – this was a teacher telling a whole group of students to be nice to me. No one had ever done that before, and even when I'm writing about this now, it makes me want to cry a little. She didn't have to do that - she was a new teacher at the school, and I know she must have wanted her students to really like her.

You may be wondering – what did I learn from this? Well, I learned that the most unlikely people may be looking out for you. Believing a teacher wouldn't care just isn't how people should be thinking. Teachers do care; you just need to give them a chance to show it. I don't suggest, however, to put yourself through bullying in order to recieve this treatment though. It's just merely a reminder to kids that teachers are there to help you - either through studying or personal problems.

I also learned that what those kids were doing – ignoring me and purposefully leaving me out – was a form of bullying. It didn't really bother me much then, and it certainly doesn't bother me at the present time, but it does give me a great experience so that I can help others who are affected by bullying. Before this incident in French 3, I never really saw ignoring people as a form of bullying. But now I do, and I realize how much it can hurt people. It didn't really hurt me, but Mme Haveman thought it was.

Malcolm X Is Pretty Cool

Out of Malcolm X, Rose, and Franklin, the essay I liked the most was Learning To Read by Malcolm X.  Though the other two essays were good and they served their purpose, I actually had fun reading Malcolm X's essay. Franklin was terribly boring, and Rose (though it was much better than Franklin's), just didn't interest me like Malcolm X's did.

"Let me pull your coat about a cat.." is probably the most interesting line I have read so far in this class. It just strikes me as awesome - like, even though Malcolm X taught himself how to read and write, and went on to use his knowledge for greater things - he's still a street kid. He's still 'street smart', and I love that he shows that in his writing.

I went back to the handout to see what other quotes I had highlighted. "Look, daddy, let me pull your coat about a cat, Elijah Muhammad-" was the only one I highlighted. In the other essays, the ones written by Franklin and Rose, nothing was highlighted at all. That one line was what stuck with me, and I still think it's a pretty cool line.

Rough Draft For Essay 1

High school was hard for me – in fact, it's hard for almost everybody. Those awkward years of trying to figure out who you really are and the type of people you fit in with, only to have it ripped apart when you reach college; it's a terrifying time in everyone's life. High school was hard for me for 2 reasons; 1) I hated everyone at my school. The girls were mean, the boys were stupid, and the staff favoured the mean and the dumb. 2) My best friend had moved away, leaving me alone. I had my boyfriend, who is now my best friend, but the sting was still the same. 3) My French 3 class was literally full of people who were friends with each other.

But let's rewind a little. Before we discuss the hell of French 3, I need to describe my other classes. I didn't have particular hard subjects – in fact, they were pretty easy for me. I was taking three AP classes and I did very well in them. The fact that I didn't like anyone in the school didn't hurt my grades one bit.

I had lunch after third period (Photography), and I always dreaded going to French 3 right after. Complaining to my twin sister and my boyfriend, Josh, never really helped much with my frustration. I hated going, and I thought nothing was going to change that.

The class was really small – people wise and space wise. There was only maybe 15 kids in my class, but we had the portable room with the wasps nest right outside. We all had assigned seats that my teacher, Mme Haveman, would change every month or so. That was fine and all, but it also meant that I couldn't just sit in the corner away from everyone. No, fate would decide to have me sit in the middle of the room surrounded by people I really could care less about.

In any other class, this wouldn't have bothered me that much. I would just ignore everyone and talk to my boyfriend or my sister. But, alas, I didn't have either of them in my class. Most of the time, I tried to not talk to or acknowledge anyone sitting near me, but Mme Haveman loved to have us talk in broken French to each other.

To top it all off, everyone was friends with each other. I am not joking. Normally, it wouldn't really bother me that no one in a class would talk to me, but my teacher always tried so hard to pair me up with people to do projects with. I understand that she was looking out for me and probably felt bad that I didn't have any friends, but I didn't want to talk to these people. I just smiled my way through it though, and did my best to be nice to these classmates that I hated. People usually didn't like Mme Haveman because she was very strict (she had also replaced our old French teacher, Mr Johnson) and didn't take BS from anyone. I liked her because I thought she was doing a good job at filling an old teachers shoes.

One day, Mme Haveman was absent from school. We had a substitute teacher, and I think you can figure out how class went that day – no one sat in their assigned seat, no work was done, and everyone pretty much goofed off. Personally, I just sat in the corner, turned on my iPod and ignored everyone. Oh, I did the classwork. And the homework. Then I did homework for my other classes. I actually got caught up with all my other classes, so it didn't really bother me much that no one was talking to me. To be honest, I quite enjoyed it.

Well, the next day, Mme Haveman came back from being sick. She was mad at the class, mainly because the sub had left a note saying that the whole class had just goofed off, except for a couple of people. To be honest, I kind of tuned her out because I knew she wasn't talking about me. I started on my classwork while she lectured the other kids.

It wasn't until she said the words, “It is not right to leave one person out in the whole class,” that I realized she was talking about me. I tried not to think about it and kept working.

Class went on as normal. We all learned some French that I can't remember today anyway, but it was still a normal class. Then, class ended. I always breathed a sigh of relief when class ended, because my next period was AP Psychology, which I loved.

That day was not my lucky day though. Mme Haveman asked me to stay after class. It's not that I didn't like her, but staying after class never meant anything good.

She waited for everyone else to leave the classroom before turning to me from her desk and simply asked, “How are you doing today?”

I was even more confused. Why did she have to wait for everyone to be gone just to ask me how my day was? “I'm fine.” I replied.

Her face became a little more serious. I was starting to get a little nervous now. Teachers had always made me slightly weary, and I really hate getting in trouble with them. It seemed like she was collecting her thoughts, so I waited patiently for her to continue.

After a couple seconds, she began talking again. “It's just, you know, the sub left a note about everyone, and I was worried about you.”

Then it hit me. She wasn't mad at me, she wasn't lecturing me, she wasn't blaming me. She was worried about me. Mme Haveman knew that the sub had been talking about me in the note; she realized that the whole class had left me out. She was mad at them for doing that to me. My French teacher just lectured everyone about leaving me out.

I can't for the life of me remember what I said to her after that. I think it's because I was so amazed that a teacher, someone who literally knew next to nothing about me, stood up for me. I do remember crying about it later, though, because it meant to much to me that she did that.

Never in my life had a teacher stood up so totally completely for me. I don't think a teacher will every do that again.

Mme Haveman was really nice to me for the rest of the year, always asking how I was doing, or what my plans for summer were, or asking how my boyfriend was doing. Of course, I warmed up to her right away – she was a very nice person.

Sure, my classmates were nice to me on a very impersonal level, but I was never really included with them. They did it for show, just to make themselves look better for leaving me out. It didn't really bother me, I could care less what they think about me.

The thing that really stuck with me about this whole experience is that someone really stood up for me. This wasn't just my best friend telling the class bully to leave me alone – this was a teacher telling a whole group of students to be nice to me. No one had ever done that before, and even when I'm writing about this now, it makes me want to cry a little.

You may be wondering – what did I learn from this? Well, I learned that the most unlikely people may be looking out for you. Believing a teacher wouldn't care just isn't how people should be thinking. Teachers do care; you just need to give them a chance to show it.

I also learned that what those kids were doing – ignoring me and purposefully leaving me out – was a form of bullying. It didn't really bother me much then, and it certainly doesn't bother me at the present time, but it does give me a great experience so that I can help others who are affected by bullying.

They All Sort Of Say The Same Thing

Malcom X's, Franklin's and Rose's essays are very different - on the surface. Sure, the writing styles are polar opposites and the topics are all over the place, but they all basically say the same thing - personal experience can teach you more than books and schools.

Unlike the essays on computers from a couple weeks ago, these 3 essays talk more about personal experience rather than book work. Sure, their initial goal was to become smarter and be able to read or write better, but they learned so much more than that. All three men learned that, through reading, they can discover so much more about life. Malcom X discovered exactly what slavery was, and how wrong it was. Franklin discovered that even though he wasn't very good at on-hands tasks, he could read and write very well. Rose discovered that his school wasn't really teaching him at all - it was the kids in his class that taught him an important life lesson.

Yes, all 3 of these essays were written extremely different (seeing as they were written in different time periods and all that), but they all pretty much come to the same conclusion. School, and the math you learn there, isn't nearly as important as your own life experiences.

Exploring My Essay Topic

I had never really seen it as bullying until this year, actually. I hated all the kids in my class (those upper class a-holes who used daddy's car and mommy's credit card), and I was actually happy that they never talked to me. In fact, I really hated it when they went out of their way to converse with me.

It might be because I'm an introvert; it might be because I didn't like how they treated other kids in school. Either way, i never went out of my way to be nice or befriend any of them.

When I was younger, of course I was bullied by the class bully (he liked to kick water in my face when I was tying my shoes), but that's just what happens in elementary school. You get bullied for being slightly different (in my case, I had a twin and diabetes), but you get over it. In class, when the guidance counselor would come in and lecture us on bullying and how to prevent it, they never said that ignoring your classmate was a form of harassment. I don't think that really was seen as a problem until recently.

So of course I didn't realize these kids were bullying me. I hated them probably as much as they didn't like me, so where is the harassment? It did surprise me when my teacher, Mme Haveman, saw it as such. It hadn't really bothered me until she stood up for me. It made me realize that I didn't have to put up with these high school jerks alone - teachers actually do care. Teachers notice things that even students don't.

Out of all my experiences in my years of school, this was the one that I remember the fondest.