First Impressions :: essays research papers

I can remember the first beat that Ive ever met a white person before. My first time was in sixth grade when I went to Academy school in Glastonbury. Sure Id seen them in movies, at the stores, and maybe I had a white teacher, but the first time Id ever interacted with a white person was that year.I was an exceptional student then. Too happy for my grade they said. My English teacher in 5th grade, Mrs. Wimberly, told me I needed to get out of the Hartford Public School system. She suggested to my mother that I humble out a program called Project Concern. This was a program that brought inner city youth out into suburban schools so as to give satisfactory opportunities for education. My mother applied to this and was informed before the end of my fifth grade school year that I was accepted and would be breathing out to school in Glastonbury. Glastonbury? Where the heck was that? I didnt even know such a place existed in my small little world. The farthest Id ever been was easts ide Hartford or maybe the Westfarms mall, and I just saw those as extensions of Hartford. I was a little worried as to what this experience was going to be like.I told everyone at Annie Fisher, my elementary school in Hartford, the news at the lunch table one day. While unwrapping my lunch from those plastic cases, and opening my cartonful of low-fat milk I broke the news. Some of the girls at the table began to say, Oh were gonna miss you Chancellor Then the guys chimed in. My one friend, Barry, informed me that I was going to a mostly white school only he put it in other terms, Ha ha, youre going to be going to school with a bunch of crackers Id never heard the term before, but another kid chimed in through mouthfuls of his dry salami sandwich, Youre going to a white school? I was a bit confused. What was this? I was never told Id be going to school with white people. Id never in talked to a white person before. They seem like some abstract, far off idea that I could not to that extent comprehend. I began to get nervous sitting at that lunch table, with my feet sticking to the dried juice on the floor. I asked them, What are they like?