Biographical narrative

December 17, 2010
By nanna darden BRONZE, Washington
nanna darden BRONZE, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The first time I met Ms.B. was when I first walked into my language arts class 3 years ago. We sat at the same table along with some other students. Ms B’s light brown hair nearly blended in with the student’s desk. Her blue-green eyes really gilts in the light and were enhanced whenever she wore eyeliner. “ssshhhhh, ssshhhhhh.” Ms. B would always say that we were the routiest class of the day. She would always make this un-defining gesture from a non-wrinkled face that would suddenly become wrinkled and you wouldn’t know if she was going to yell at you or someone else, as she scanned like a hawk over the classroom.

Our class was reviewing how to make your story have voice for our Personal Narrative assignment. “Alright class pull out your drafts, or what you have for your Narrative this is going to be a quiet workshop period.” Ms. B announced to the class.
“Hey, do you have the math homework?” A student muttered crossed the room hoping that Ms. B didn’t hear him.
“Oh, uh uh. Adam don’t give him that, and Jake get your stuff out cause the way your grade is looking like you have no time to be wasting in class.” Jake slowly turns around and gave her the biggest glare after she turns her back.

It was less then a quarter of the way threw the class and it simmered down dramatically. The classroom was scary quiet. So quiet that it was tense or like there was a vicious animal about to strike its pray. You had that weird nervous tingle like you were being follows at night, so you just stop what your doing and look around to see what everybody else is doing. Knowing that when you looked up you would see Ms. B looking back at you like some kind of serial killer. I hadn’t really understood why it is that some students thought that Ms.B was mean. I never looked at her that was I always figured she had a true passion for writing and literature, and to teach people how to be literate. She had a special was of teaching the class witch in my case was the most understanding.
She never had any kind of range on how long essays and/or writing assignments had to be but she would always say, “If you don’t understand what you’re writing about keep writing. If the message of your topic isn’t clear, keep writing. If the purpose of the writing assignments does not speak it purpose Keep Writing” this was the guideline as to how long you can make your papers. She did have rubric but mainly based on grammar, and how well you portray voice.
Ms.B was the best grader I think. Only if you like somebody is giving a lot of notes and what you could have done better in. At times, discouraging, but you took it for what it was. I always appreciated it cause its better then putting a lot of work into a piece of writing, that you worked so hard on and you made sure you went to school that day just to turn in that paper to feel accomplished. Other than the teacher who doesn’t even care about what you read hardly any notes a little ‘eight word’ slogan that sounds like they got it off of a stamp. The grades would be displayed on the first page BIG, RED, and CIRCLED so that nothing was missed.

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