Quotes About School

By the time they got to school, both were worn out by trying to think of something to say, and trying _not_ to say what they were really thinking.

All of us learn to write in the second grade. Most of us go on to greater things.

Loren looked at Christ on the cross behind the Mother Superior's head. She remembered an old joke, one she heard when she first got here. A boy is getting all Ds and Fs in math so his parents send him to Catholic school. On his first report card, his parents are shocked to see their son getting straight As. When his parents ask him why, he says, "Well, when I went into the chapel and saw that guy nailed to a plus sign, I knew they were serious." Mother

She handed him an old class photograph, the color not so much fading as greening from age. Fifteen kids flanked by two teachers, one a far younger Peggy Joyce. The years had not been unkind to her, but they'd passed anyway.

Hands in plain view approaching a high school. What a world.

In short, Millie explained in long, they would decorate the middle school gymnasium to look like various comic-book places.

When Myron got settled again, Esperanza said, "I want to talk to you about something." "Shoot." "It's about my graduating law school." "Okay," Myron said, dragging out the word.

She didn't want to raise suspicions, so she started chatting about the usual suburban inanities: kid sports, the father-coach who favored his own kid, the teachers who gave too much/too little homework, the new online school-lunch ordering system.

Myron and Win met up three blocks away near an elementary school. A parked car here would be less conspicuous. Win was dressed in black, including a black skull cap that hid his blond locks.

He opened the door and headed into the kitchen. The kitchen table was a mess, done up in Early American Homework. Thomas's algebra textbook was open to a problem that asked him to complete the square in the quadratic function f given by f(x) = 2x2 – 6x = 4. A number two pencil lay snuggled in the book's crevice. Sheets of white-with-light-blue-squares graph paper were strewn everywhere. Some of the sheets had fallen to the floor.

The remainder of my schooldays were no more auspicious than the first. Indeed, they were an endless Project that slowly evolved into a Unit, in which miles of construction paper and wax crayon were expended by the State of Alabama in its well-meaning but fruitless efforts to teach me Group Dynamics.

I was proceeding on the dim theory, aside from the innate attractiveness of such words, that if Atticus discovered I had picked them up at school he wouldn't make me go.

Almost died first year I come to school and et them pecans—folks say he pizened 'em and put 'em over on the school side of the fence.

You never went to school and you do all right, so I'll just stay home too. You can teach me like Grandaddy taught you 'n' Uncle Jack." "No

We don't write in the first grade, we print. You won't learn to write until you're in the third grade.

The Maycomb school grounds adjoined the back of the Radley lot; from the Radley chickenyard tall pecan trees shook their fruit into the schoolyard, but the nuts lay untouched by the children: Radley pecans would kill you. A baseball hit into the Radley yard was a lost ball and no questions asked.

The scholastic level of that school down the street, Atticus, couldn't be any lower and you know it.

Everybody did; most of the first grade had failed it last year.

Sitting and listening to people you went to school with is excruciating for an hour. To hear the same conversion day in and day out is better than the Chinese torture method.

Kad je gospo?ica Kerolajn stigla do mesta gde Gospa-Ma?ka poziva samoposlugu da naru?i miševe u slatkom ?okoladnom prelivu, razred se ve? vrpoljio kao crvi?i za pecanje u tegli. Izgleda da gospo?ica Kerolajn nije bila svesna toga da su odrpani, u košulje od grubog platna i suknje od džakova za brašno odeveni prvaci, od kojih je ve?ina po?ela brati pamuk i hraniti svinje ?im je prohodala, bili neprijem?ivi za književne maštovitosti.

High school girls came bustling along, their rosy red cheeks puffing white breaths you could have written cartoon captions in.

A good mood, incidentally, spreads most swiftly by the judicious use of humor. For

I enjoy writing personal essays in the way of Charles Lamb because it goes back to the school days when I was good in writing essays.

People would say, Can we develop a sitcom around you? and I would say, Not interested. I'm very happy doing standup and writing and taking my kids to school.