School bus

it’s me!” The upper classmen yelled at me when I got on the bus. I turned around and smiled at them. A smooth day went by, but when I stepped on the bus to get home, I heard the haunting voices again. “Hey Yu, it’s me!” Days and days went by. Their joke never stopped. To others, it seemed like a friendly interaction, but I know their words were meant to hurt me, and they did. In school, my angelic friends lit up my world, but on the bus, the devilish voices destroyed me. This joke haunted me for

many. Camp is where lifelong memories and friendships are made, where kids get to return to school and tell their friends about the canoe trip they went on, the cool painting they made, or their funny counsellors. Summer camp is the experience that influences, and changes, many lives. I went to summer camp from the time I was 5 to the time I was 15. I always went to day camps, ranging from camps based on school campuses, to sewing camp, to cooking camp. Even though I was lucky enough as a child to experience

huddling inside my school blazer against the chill of the air waiting for my bus to take me to school. The sound of train wheels screeching on the tracks drift off in the distance and cigarette smoke engulfs me from a nearby junkie puffing away. Seaford is a quiet suburb on the mornington peninsula, everyone knows each other and everything about each other. Small news for most suburbs is big news for seaford because nothing ever happens in little seaford. My bus drops me off at school, students are

ready and got on the bus. My best friend was there reading, like always. “Hey Wendy, what are you reading this time?” I said as I sat down “The Starving Maze” She said proudly. Like most fangirls, she has a crush on a make believe character that is played by someone that lives in Europe, or California, or Canada. In the book she has a crush on ‘Went’ which is short for ‘Wenton’. Anyway, she wishes she could meet this person and marry him. Remember that he is fake, I hope. At school everyone was looking

My bus ride home came to a screeching halt. My bus driver is not a very good driver. I stepped, well more like jumped down the steps of the school bus and I wish I could say I stuck the landing, but sadly I didn’t. I almost went head first into a tree, but I caught myself and played it off as I quickly got my balance back and walked towards my house as if nothing had happened. I watched as the wind blew through the tree branches, knocking even more warm colored leaves to the cold ground. I swear

I hope you are doing well. I am Amy Ratigan, a sophomore at Merion Mercy Academy, located outside of Philadelphia, and I am writing to you in hopes that you will consider my plan. I am proposing that when drivers turn seventy years old, they should be required to retake the driving exam. Mercury News states: “According to the Institute of Highway Safety, drivers 85 years and older have the highest rate of fatal accidents per miles driven of any age group.” However, if there were a law passed which

was getting ready for school. I got in the shower and when I got out I put my clothes on and rushed downstairs to grab my waffles and catch my bus. I've always been late to the bus, Mrs. Higgin never liked me I was always the kid who throws wadded up pieces of paper at her. One time she stopped the bus on the side of the road just to yell at me, everyone thought it was so funny. she was screaming at me so loud some guy pulled over and asked what had happened. Anyways school was very interesting today

through to me, back then. My mother made me tough, with sinewed skin and a soul of steel. The strength is what got me through the school bus rides. The boys would touch me as I walked down the aisle, there’d be the occasional brawl. I just never cared. My life was cold, and the only real sparks of emotion came from the boy who sat in a seat diagonally in front of me on the bus. He was in the same grade as me, but we never shared the same classes. I was in regular math and science, and from the way he

I still remember that terrible morning. I sprang out of bed and tossed the sheets aside. I was still in my pajamas but I didn't care, dashing down the halls, sprinting down the stairs, and staring intently at the wooden front door. My mom and sister were all ready grinning at the main entrance. The door swung open and my dad burst into the room. He hugged us like never before. After two years he was back. Tears escaped my mother's hazel eyes. Then my dad stood up and watched us as we all at once

classmates. It had begun when Ms. Anderson had planned for our class to go on a field trip to the historical museum in the magical forest, the day before.I was all lift up and prepared for this field trip. After a long hour pasted inside the small school bus, our classmates and I could find an amazing few of this historical museum. There were uncountable trees surrounding it, and the building of the