muziki is the only class I have with him. The longest class.
"Nick play that part of the excersice again." told our band teacher Mr. Bova.
No one argues with Mr. Bova, we all think he's scary.
"Why do I even stay in this class?" I sometimes ask myself. The fear of being yelled at? The fact that I loved playing the flute? au Nick.... no I moved on! au at lest I tell myself I did. I don't know what it is, his poping messy, curly blond hair, even zaidi sunkissed than mine. au the way he smiled to himself, his perfect smirk. I don't why I ever crushed on him.
Nick finished the part of the routine, his flawless routine. He's the best kinanda player in our class, always first chair. Mr. Bova's inayopendelewa we think of him, the perfect example. We got back to work,but then imediantly Mr. Bova was yelling at us that we got D sharp wrong.
During these brief scoldings I always glance at him. I shouldn't even try, when I look at him it always reminds me of that moment that I screwed up on. Besides, crushes come and go.... only his crush lasted for a mwaka au so. But its definately over... I think.....
####
I'm a pretty antisocial person. No, I am antisocial of my middleschool, Carter Middle school. The place is a living hell for me. For some reasons.......... and ... others... but mostly, the kids are idoits and the teachers don't know anything about teaching.
Mrs. Carr the librarian is the only one who knows what she's doing. Mrs. Carr is a very experienced English teacher who was demoted to being the school librarian. Her little maktaba is the only place to escape this wreched place that isn't crowded like the muziki room. I rushed to there before the rough crowds.
Before I even before stepped completely through the door I heard a joyful husky voice. " hujambo little Ann."
TO BE CONTINUED
"Nick play that part of the excersice again." told our band teacher Mr. Bova.
No one argues with Mr. Bova, we all think he's scary.
"Why do I even stay in this class?" I sometimes ask myself. The fear of being yelled at? The fact that I loved playing the flute? au Nick.... no I moved on! au at lest I tell myself I did. I don't know what it is, his poping messy, curly blond hair, even zaidi sunkissed than mine. au the way he smiled to himself, his perfect smirk. I don't why I ever crushed on him.
Nick finished the part of the routine, his flawless routine. He's the best kinanda player in our class, always first chair. Mr. Bova's inayopendelewa we think of him, the perfect example. We got back to work,but then imediantly Mr. Bova was yelling at us that we got D sharp wrong.
During these brief scoldings I always glance at him. I shouldn't even try, when I look at him it always reminds me of that moment that I screwed up on. Besides, crushes come and go.... only his crush lasted for a mwaka au so. But its definately over... I think.....
####
I'm a pretty antisocial person. No, I am antisocial of my middleschool, Carter Middle school. The place is a living hell for me. For some reasons.......... and ... others... but mostly, the kids are idoits and the teachers don't know anything about teaching.
Mrs. Carr the librarian is the only one who knows what she's doing. Mrs. Carr is a very experienced English teacher who was demoted to being the school librarian. Her little maktaba is the only place to escape this wreched place that isn't crowded like the muziki room. I rushed to there before the rough crowds.
Before I even before stepped completely through the door I heard a joyful husky voice. " hujambo little Ann."
TO BE CONTINUED
Hell is nothing zaidi than the outcome of a natural life
Humans are not built for perfection au purity
Every human no matter what is stained in someway
It could be a horrid thought, A mistaken word said
Perhaps actions that ended in consequence
This is why I chose not to fear it, but embrace it
If wewe are to believe in heaven au hell than believe it’s whatever wewe want
Only the dead have seen it so how is we to know it’s a horrific place
Perhaps it is just a place wewe can be sent as a personal decision
I’m am not fully faithful, stepping into heaven would be fraud
I choose to accept whatever happens, in truth it is not me I worry about
Understand it’s all matter of opinion and I’m open to all
Humans are not built for perfection au purity
Every human no matter what is stained in someway
It could be a horrid thought, A mistaken word said
Perhaps actions that ended in consequence
This is why I chose not to fear it, but embrace it
If wewe are to believe in heaven au hell than believe it’s whatever wewe want
Only the dead have seen it so how is we to know it’s a horrific place
Perhaps it is just a place wewe can be sent as a personal decision
I’m am not fully faithful, stepping into heaven would be fraud
I choose to accept whatever happens, in truth it is not me I worry about
Understand it’s all matter of opinion and I’m open to all