English, asked by cassiephillips05, 11 hours ago

"The Teacher Who Changed My Life" story.


Write a diary entry that Nicholas Gage might have written the night he found out he had won a medal for the essay about his mother. Write using at least 4 complete sentences.​

Answers

Answered by ritikshende2612
1

Explanation:

okkk bhai or behan good

Attachments:
Answered by KamilSinghThakur
2

THE TEACHER WHO CHANGED MY LIFE

Nicholas Gage

The person who set the course of my life in the new land I entered as a young war

refugee—who, in fact, nearly dragged me onto the path that would bring all the

blessings I’ve received in America—was a salty-tongued, no-nonsense school-

teacher named Marjorie Hurd. When I entered her classroom in 1953, I had been

to six schools in five years, starting in the Greek village where I was born in 1939.

When I stepped off a ship in New York Harbor on a gray March day in 1949,

I was an undersized nine-year-old in short pants who had lost his mother and was

coming to live with the father he didn’t know. My mother, Eleni Gatzoyiannis,

had been imprisoned, tortured, and shot by Communist guerrillas for sending

me and three of my four sisters to freedom. She died so that her children could

go to their father in the United States.

The portly, bald, well-dressed man who met me and my sisters seemed a for-

eign, authoritarian figure. I secretly resented him for not getting the whole

family out of Greece early enough to save my mother. Ultimately, I would grow

to love him and appreciate how he dealt with becoming a single parent at the age

of fifty-six, but at first our relationship was prickly, full of hostility.

As Father drove us to our new home—a tenement in Worcester,

Massachusetts—and pointed out the huge brick building that would be our first

school in America, I clutched my Greek notebooks from the refugee camp,

hoping that my few years of schooling would impress my teachers in this cold,

crowded country. They didn’t. When my father led me and my eleven-year-old

sister to Greendale Elementary School, the grim-faced Yankee principal put the

two of us in a class for the mentally retarded. There was no facility in those days

for non-English-speaking children.

By the time I met Marjorie Hurd four years later, I had learned English, been

placed in a normal, graded class and had even been chosen for the college pre-

paratory track in the Worcester public school system. I was thirteen years old

when our father moved us yet again, and I entered Chandler Junior High shortly

after the beginning of seventh grade. I found myself surrounded by richer,

smarter, and better-dressed classmates who looked askance at my strange clothes and heavy accent. Shortly after I arrived, we were told to select a hobby to pursue

during “club hour” on Fridays. The idea of hobbies and clubs made no sense to

my immigrant ears, but I decided to follow the prettiest girl in my class—the

blue-eyed daughter of the local Lutheran minister. She led me through the door

marked “Newspaper Club” and into the presence of Miss Hurd, the newspaper

advisor and English teacher who would become my mentor and my muse.

I hope this may help you

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