Quotes About School

He found the courses at law school ill-suited to his temperament, noting critically that the professors were more concerned with "what law is, not what it ought to be," emphasizing legal precedents rather than justice.

Julius brooded. He could see Julius despising the medical school of Pavia. Tobie said, Nicholas managed the journey from Flanders all right. Deferred to you, joked discreetly with me, got on like a dyeworks on fire with the muleteers.

We dole out lip-service to the importance of education—lip-service and, just occasionally, a little grant of money; we postpone the school-leaving age, and plan to build bigger and better schools; the teachers slave conscientiously in and out of school hours; and yet, as I believe, all this devoted effort is largely frustrated, because we have lost the tools of learning, and in their absence can only make a botched and piecemeal job of it.

Laurence G. Paquin Middle School, a school for pregnant girls and girls who already have babies, became the first Baltimore school to implement a pilot program to provide Norplant in its clinic. All but five of the 350 students at the school are Black. Although other contraceptives are touched on in counseling sessions, the girls are urged to try Norplant.

I vaguely remember my schooldays. They were what was going on in the background while I was trying to listen to the Beatles.

I have always been absurdly, ridiculously tall. To give you an idea- when we went on school trips to Interesting and Improving Places, the form-master wouldn't say Meet under the clock tower, or Meet under the War Memorial, but Meet under Adams.

When Arthur had been a boy at school, long before the Earth had been demolished, he had used to play football. He had not been at all good at it, and his particular speciality had been scoring own goals in important matches.

You are disoriented. Blackness swims toward you like a school of eels who have just seen something that eels like a lot.

The world was so unbearably pretty, and it continued being so all the way down the mountain to school. I felt slightly high because of the beauty, and the inside of my head tickled. I wondered if this is how artists go through life, with all of its sensations tickling their craniums like a peacock feather..

I suppose it is because nearly all children go to school nowadays and have things arranged for them that they seem so forlornly unable to produce their own ideas.

It was a cheap school, you know, and the teachers weren't very good. They could never answer questions properly." "Very few teachers can," I{Jerry}said. "Why not? They ought to." I agreed.

She transferred her gaze to me. "You are his secretary, I suppose?" "Er—yes," I said doubtfully. "Can you write decent English?" "I hope so." "H'm—where did you go to school?" "Eton." "Then you can't.

What," asked Dr. Constantine with interest, "does a pukka sahib mean?" "It means," said Poirot, "that Miss Debenham's father and brothers were at the same kind of school as Colonel Arbuthnot.

About Nora Broad} Miss Marple: Was she a girl that did well in school and all that? Mrs. Black: No she wasn't, heh... She was idle, and she wasn't too clever to books either. No, she was "all for the boys." From the time she was twelve years old, onwards.

There was nothing mass produced about the school, but if it was individualistic, it also had discipline. Discipline without regimentation, was Miss Bulstrode's motto. Discipline, she held, was reassuring to the young, it gave them a feeling of security; regimentation gave rise to irritation.

I remember the school janitors who supervised the schoolyard. Cold and cunning, they were the supreme arbiters and would instill fear in everyone. If a child got out of control, they would tie him up and give him ten lashes. After receiving his punishment, the child had to kiss the hand of the one who had lashed him, say, "As you command, Father," and then leave the area. This ritual was repeated several times a week.

My parents were vegetarians. I'd show up at school, this giant black kid, with none of the cool clothes and a tofu sandwich and celery sticks.

But, as any parent in those days would have done, he said I would have to go to art school. As a lover of Cézanne and Van Gogh, I felt that such an academic approach would be a waste of time. Nor was I eager to take another entrance examination.

I went straight to my father and begged him to enter me in Ochiai's fencing school. He was overjoyed. I don't know if my interest had occasioned a resurgence of the samurai blood in my father's veins or the reawakening of his military-academy teacher's spirit, but, whichever it was, the effect was remarkable.

In the early Taish? era (1912–1926), when I started school, the word "teacher" was synonymous with "scary person." The fact that at such a time I encountered such free and innovative education with such creative impulse behind it—that I encountered a teacher like Mr. Tachikawa at such a time—I cherish among the rarest of blessings.

Later I wrote a composition that my grammar teacher Ohara Y?ichi praised as the best since the founding of Keika Middle School. But when I read it over now, it's precious and pretentious enough to make me blush.

Hideki had always been the smallest boy in the school, and Yoshio had never let him forget it. Hideki was fourteen years old but looked like he was twelve, with a round boyish face, thin arms and legs, and short-cropped black hair.

Weakly. For the next few weeks sounds of banging and hammering came from Mr Weakly's room after school.

Of course, in our grade school, in those days, there were no organized sports at all. We just went out and ran around the school yard for recess.