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Grace Powers

English 1101

Prof. Richardson

4 September 2018

Summer School

I was never very good at school. I always felt as though the other kids could just pick up

topics so easily, with no effort whatsoever. This was always different for me. It always took me a

while to grasp onto topics, especially reading. When my first-grade teacher, Mrs. Gulling, was

teaching us to read, she would assign us small passages to go home and read with our parents. I

hated these assignments, unlike the other students, I was unable to read at an adequate level. I

could barely complete the assignments without asking my parents to tell me numerous words,

that almost amounted to the entire passage . One event I remember very vividly is, one evening

when I was having a particularly hard time completing one of these assignments, tears began to

filled my eyes. I tried to be strong, but the cold tiny little drops kept trickling down my cheeks

and I began to sob. I remember, through my sobs, saying to my mom, “I’m never going to be

able to read”.

Of course, she replied to me with the very supportive response,

“ sure you will Grace, it just takes time”.

This was not what I wanted to hear at the time. I wanted to be able to read then. I wanted it to

just click and it did not, I did not believe her. She was right of course, slowly but surely, I got

better at Reading. I was thrilled because I could read.

This excitement lasted until one day when I received a letter to give to my parents. I was

one of only three kids in my class to receive the letter. My friend Ashlyn, and another little boy
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whose name I am unsure of, and I. I did not know what this letter was about, but I came home

and gave it straight to my mom. She laid it on the counter to open later. This killed me because I

was a particularly curious child. I picked up the letter and began to pick at the seal, trying to get a

glimpse of what was inside. I could no longer conceal my curiosity, I ripped open the letter and

pulled it out as if it was all one motion. I began to scan the letter. Though, I was still unable to

read the best. My eyes fixed on the bold black words at the top of the page, I knew these two

words. “Summer School”. As I read these words, I felt chills throughout my body. More and

more tears formed with each syllable. I was devastated, no kid wants to be the “dumb kid” who

must go to summer school. Having read those two words, the other words I had previously

learned seemed so miniscule. What was all that work for?, Nothing. I quickly took the letter and

threw it away, knowing that if it had not been in sight my mother would forget about it. This plan

had seemingly worked, until a few hours later when my mother called me into her room. She was

holding a piece of paper. I could see a sickeningly happy sun in the corner of the page next to the

two words I recognized. Thoughts and fears began to flood my head. How did she get this? Did

she know I was the one who threw it away? Was she going to make me go?

Of course she would make me go. After debating with her for a little while, I accepted my

dreaded and inevitable fate of spending my summer in school.

With only a few days of school left of School, I did not see the point in going. If I was

going to spend my summer in school, why did I have to go now? However, my mom insisted that

go. When the bell finally rang for my favorite part of the day, recess, I was thrilled. I ran over to

the ball cart, fished out my favorite one, red with blue polka dots. Then headed over to my friend

Ashlyn and I’s corner. This is where we would sit on our balls and talk of the most exciting news
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of first grade. However, the news I had to share today was not exciting, but she had the same

news.

“Guess what”, we say in unison.

She paused and waited for me to tell my news.

“The letters we got yesterday were for summer school”, I paused for a second

“and my mom is making me go”.

“So is mine”, replied Aslyn.

Although I did not want to go to summer school, I was relieved to know I would have a friend

by my side.

Two weeks into summer vacation, the dreaded first day of summer school came. My

mother woke me up. I got ready and put on my favorite shirt, which was pink with a cartoon

monkey, and went out for the bus. The bus ride seemed to last forever, especially with no friends

to talk to. When we arrived at the school, the teachers directed me to my assigned classroom.

The classroom was small, but big for the number of students in it. I looked around, scanning for

Ashlyn or at the very least a familiar face. However, Ashlyn was nowhere to be found. I began to

worry, Where was I going to sit? Who was I going to talk to? I scanned the room once more for

a familiar face, of which I did not find. Instead I saw a little brown haired girl wearing a pink

shirt. I inspected her shirt a once more. It was the same as mine. This was who I would sit next

to. I walked over, set my pink sparkly backpack on the desk, and took my seat. The little brown

haired girl, whose name I would later learn is Karlie, immediately pointed out our matching

shirts. That, in first grade terms, is the beginning of a friendship. Every day I sat next to her and

we would laugh and giggle about typical first grade things. We always helped each other when

we struggled in reading. My favorite thing about summer school was snack time. Everyday,
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Karlie would give me half of her potato chips and I would give her half of my pretzels. She came

to be one of my very best friends, and still is to this day. That summer I not only learned to read,

but had fun doing so.

Going to summer school was scary and intimidating for me, but was a very influential

experience. It shaped me not only into the reader I am today, but the person I am. One of the

most important lessons I learned from summer school was, even though if I am intimidated by

something, do it anyway and do it with confidence. I follow that to this day. I was very

intimidated by this essay and I was unsure if I could even write it, but pushed through and I

actually enjoyed writing it. I could never thank my mom enough for making me go to summer

school.