Childhood Memory
By: Fatih • Essay • 850 Words • February 14, 2010 • 1,022 Views
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When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 1st Corinthians 13:11
It was nine o lock on a school night, and it was a couple days before Christmas, and I was going to receive my first progress report for the seventh grade in two days. The problem was I didn hand in all of my homework, and my teacher was giving me one day so that I may redeem myself from a failing progress report.
So given a second chance I took it, brought all my textbooks home, and had been doing catch up homework from four p.m. and by the time I turned around it was nine o lock and I still wasn done. It came to the point where I never thought I would be able to finish, and I being so grown in my own way of thinking I never thought to ask my mother or my step-father for help. Let alone to tell them the real reason me having all of my textbooks at home.
I was in the bed with my pajamas on, and along side me was every single book or textbook that could usually be found in my desk at school. Every one of them was opened, my light was at its brightest, and my reading glasses were on my face, and a blue ball point pen was in my right hand. My notebook was opened to a fresh white page, but it was blank, untouched, and then my math textbook was directly on top of my notebook, because that was the subject I had been working on. I laid there trying to figure out how come math became so difficult for me, and that I should be able to finish the rest of my catch up homework in the next two hours, even though I was tired, and basically falling asleep inside of my own books. Staying awake was harder that figuring out the math problem, but I knew that I needed help in order to finish all of my homework so that I could go to bed, and hand in my assignments by tomorrow.
The only way any of those things could had happened was if I asked for help, because math was the subject that I just couldn understand. But I was still very hesitant to ask for help from my mother, because I was afraid that she would find out about my missing homework.
I needed help, and then I was also very sleepy, and very afraid, but I took the chance, I called my mother into my room, and she looked down at me from the top of her glasses and she crossed her arms waiting for an explanation on the reason why I had just called her. My mother stands there in the doorway into my room, and I look up at her with a