First Day of Third Grade and Multiplication 8x8=??? | Teen Ink

First Day of Third Grade and Multiplication 8x8=???

June 18, 2018
By villalban BRONZE, Wellesley, Massachusetts
villalban BRONZE, Wellesley, Massachusetts
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Sadly, summer was over, and it was time to head back to school. My name is Nathalie, and I am 9 years old girl living in California. I go to a small private Catholic school that is just five minutes away from my house. So far my experience with school has been very challenging. Ever since I started school, I struggled. So as you can imagine, school wasn't my favorite place.

That morning my mom woke me and my brother, Colin, up for school. It was hard to get out of bed at 6:30 that morning. Colin is seven years old and is going into the second grade at our school. Colin and I don’t get along so well. I find him very annoying! This whole summer I have been very anxious about starting third grade. The reason I was so anxious was because my third grade teacher had been rumored to be very mean. I loved my first and second grade teachers. Though I was worried I was going to hate my new teacher. That morning me Colin and mom got in our big gray Suburban and drove to school. I went over with my mom in the car my worries about my teacher, for the hundredth time. My mother tried to reassure me that it was all going to be fine. She suggested I talk to the incoming fourth graders and ask if they had any tips about her. Talking to my mom calmed my nerves a little bit ,but I was still very nervous. We arrived at school and parked in the parking lot . We then got our backpacks out of the car and started walking towards school. As we’re walking towards the school I see my best friend Adriana in the parking lot and run to her and give her a big hug.


Next, my mom and me dropped Colin off at the second grade classroom. We give him a hug and wish him a good day. My mom and me then walk up to the third grade classroom. As we walk up to the classroom, I start to squeeze my mom’s hand. She tells me that it’s all going to be okay and not to worry. My mom gives me a great big hug and then leaves. I walk into my classroom with my stomach tied in knots. The teacher ask everybody to find the desk with their name on it and to sit down there. My class of thirty third graders and me follow as were told and find our desks. Then she starts into a lecture about the expectations for third graders. She says we should be working all the time,no fooling around,we always need to be on our best behavior, homework should never be turned in late and the list went on. As she went over this list I started to become even more anxious. These were a lot of rules and expectations for third graders. She then talked about how much homework we would get a night. She then told us that every Friday we would have 3 tests. A spelling test, a reading test,and a religion test. She then told us we should expect homework from all six subjects each night which were English,Spelling, Math,Science Religion ,and Social Studies. My anxiety started to overwhelm my body ,and I felt like I was going to explode any second. Then the bell rang and it was time to pack up. The first day of school was only 2 hours. Then we all walked out to carline waiting for our parents to pick us up.

 

My mom was one of the first cars in carline. Me and Colin then got in the car. My mom asked us how our days were. Colin went on raving about the second grade. While I said nothing, my mom asked what was wrong. I told her all the stuff the teacher had said and that I felt like this was going to be a very stressful year. My mom reminded me that I have a lot of support around me and that this was going to be a great year, though my anxious mind didn’t believe her. Throughout the month of September, I found school very stressful and hard. My homework took me about 2 to 3 hours a night. And I was struggling with understanding some of the things were learning in school. She would teach so fast, and I could hardly keep up.So far the start of third grade had been a disaster.

 

Multiplication 8x8=???


We started to learn multiplication in the end of September in third grade. Math was my worst subject. I struggled a lot through it in school and hated it. In third grade at my school, they expected you to memorize all the multiplication for one number in one day. We had 10 days of studying multiplication. Each number got one day and that was it. I struggled with memorizing my multiplication in such a short time. I have always been a very slow processor so it takes me longer to process the information, then it does my peers. All my life I had felt dumb in math. I didn’t really get math, and I would always end up feeling so confused and frustrated by it. I wanted to be like the other kids in my class and understand it in a matter of minutes. I didn’t like that it took me a matter of days or weeks to get a concept. I never raised my hand in math because I was so confused by it and worried about messing up in front of my class. I was worried if I messed up, they would make fun of me. Even though I never raised my hand in math, my teacher would still call on me, and I was getting so embarrassed to have to say out loud to my class that I didn’t get it and that I needed help solving it. Every time this happened, I wanted to cry. I didn’t get why it was hard for me and why couldn’t it be easy for me like everybody else.

You were also looked very down upon at school if you didn’t have all your multiplication memorized. My teacher saw that I was having hard time with my multiplication and she told me I needed to study more and that I wasn't trying hard enough. When she said that, it filled my heart with sadness. I knew I was trying my whole-hearted best at this, and I was still having a hard time with it. I felt dumb and like a failure.

My teacher announced that Monday we were going to start taking timed multiplication testsThe test would be 1 minute long with a hundred questions. Everybody would start out on their ones, and if they filled the whole thing out in the minute, and got them all right, they would move to the next number and so on. And this would stop after you finished the tens multiplication facts. Next, she passed each of us a paper with pieces to an ice cream sundae on it. Each of the pieces had a number on it. She said once you passed that number’s multiplication test, you would color in that piece with that number on it. For example,once you passed the ones test you would color the piece with the one on it ,cut it out ,and stick in on the piece of the paper. This was the process each time you passed the test. Also there were all being displayed on the board in the classroom and that meant everybody could see how many or how little everyone has passed. This made me very anxious. I hated tests especially timed tests, and I always needed extra time on my test, but they wouldn’t allow me any extra time. I was worried about having the least pieces on my sundae ,and that my classmates would think I was dumb. And I feared them thinking that so badly. I was also worried my parent might think I was dumb too, if my sundae didn’t have a lot of pieces on it.

 

The next week we started the test. I got through the ones and the twos multiplication test but couldn’t pass the threes. Each week, they would keep handing me the three multiplication facts and every time I would fail. I only had gotten about 25 problems done each time. I was also so anxious about the timer, I would look up at the board multiple times worrying I wasn't going to finish, because we only had so many seconds left, though I would still keep trying to push through the test. As weeks went on, the multiplication test would make me more anxious than the last. My stomach would hurt more each time as I took it. The timer would ring loudly in the classroom, and I would look down at my test knowing I hadn’t finished and knowing I had failed. I felt like I wanted to cry each time I looked down at my unfinished test. I thought to myself what the heck was wrong with me? Why wasn't I like the other kids? I felt so stupid. And it didn’t help later that day that my teacher announced that we already had someone who had passed the the whole entire thing and would be getting a sundae next week. I looked up at the board at my sundae and at the other student who had passed them all. My sundae just had the bowl and the banana and hers had the the whole thing: the ice creams, the chocolate sauces, and the cherry on top. I felt sad inside and wondered again what was so wrong with me and why I was so stupid.



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