My Mother’s Story

“Camille! Can you please clean your room?” my mom asked me from downstairs. I’m Camille, if you hadn’t noticed. My room is a pig sty and it would take years to clean.
“But mom,” I groaned.
“But Camille,” she imitated, as she marched up to my room. “Look at this, you can’t even see the floor!” my mom said when she reached the doorway.
“But mom,” I whined again.
“Camille,” she said in a stern voice, “I’m going to make dinner. By the time I’m done, I should be able to eat off the ground.”
“Mom, this room would take years to clean!” I moaned.
“Then you better get going.” Then she shut the door,(which was a little hard with all the junk out). I was doomed. I was planning to walk to the dollar store with my friend Yarely today. If I stayed and cleaned, I would never be let out of my room.
“Great, I’m a prisoner of my own home,” I growled. Then and idea popped like a piece of popcorn inside my head. “You know,” I spoke, to no one in particular, “my room isn’t that bad,” I lied to myself, “and I don’t really care what it looks like. I’m out of here,” I said. I knew I was disobeying my mom, but it’s only one time, and what’s the worst that could happen, I thought to myself. I slowly opened the door, and tiptoed through the hall and down the stairs. I went past the kitchen where mom was, and to the back door. I was so close to getting free, but all I had to do was turn the door knob, and mom caught me.
“Did you finish cleaning?” she wondered holding me firmly by the arm.
“Well….” I said slowly.
“Camille, I thought I could trust you to do a simple job of cleaning your room,” she said disappointed.
“But mom, I had plans today,” I tried to reason, but I knew that was the worst excuse ever.
“Camille, sit down,” she said, and she placed me on the couch, and sat next to me. “Let me tell you a story. Once there was a little girl. She worked with her mother cleaning the house of a rich man. The house was big, so it took many laboring hours to clean. The girl’s mother was a hard worker, and she knew very well what was best for her daughter.
One afternoon on a day off, the little girl was playing outside with her friends, while her mother was resting her back. By seven o’ clock, the girl was still playing outside with her friends. The next day the girl and her mother had to get up early to go to the rich man’s house. The mother told her daughter to go to bed, but the girl refused. She wanted to keep playing outside with her friends. Soon enough, her mother had to finally drag the girl inside. The girl was locked in her room filled with rage and anger.
After a few minutes of calming herself down, she devised a plan. Her plan was simple, and she fulfilled it quickly. All she did was hop out the window, and she was free again.
Then when she got outside, her plan backfired. She was barefoot, and the ants and bugs picked and nicked at her feet. Even her torn and ripped slippers could do a better job of keeping her feet unharmed. It was dark, and the girl was scared of the dark. None of her friends were outside anymore, they all went home and into bed, as she was supposed to. So now she was all alone in the dark by herself. She looked back at the window. It was too high for her now. She stood stiff for a moment because she was too scared to even budge. After thinking it over in her head, she ran as fast as she could to the front door. She pounded it as hard as she could until she could pound no more. Her mother was most likely in bed, so the girl believed she was stuck outside. She fell to the ground and began to cry, she was scared and wanted her mother. She effortlessly hit at the door as the tears came down.
All of a sudden the door swung open, and there standing at the door in her pajamas, was the girl’s mother. The girl jumped to her feet and clung to her mother. Then she closed the door, and had a good night sleep.”
“Hmm, some story. Did you copy that out of a book?” I asked my own mom.
“No, actually, I got it from my own life experiences,” she answered.
“What do you mean,” I wondered.
“Camille, that little girl was me,” she told me.
“Oh,” I said blankly. “”Wait you were scared of the dark?” I teased. My mom gave me a little grin. “I’m sorry mom, for disobeying you. That was wrong, and I shouldn’t have tried getting passed you,” I apologized. Her grin grew a little larger.
“Go clean your room.”





Fifth Grade Letter
Dear New Fifth Grader
My name is Camille. By this time I am most likely a sixth grader, (unless something terrible happened). So I am a expert at fifth grade, and I’m passing my knowledge down to you.
(1.) You need to know your multiplication and division facts. You should learn your facts up to twelve times twelve, and one-hundred forty-four divided by twelve, because that’s what you’re tested on. You could go the extra mile, though, and study up to thirteen or fourteen. The test, the big test, the one you’re graded on, is different from last year. This test has both multiplication and division. Don’t worry though, they’re not mixed, it’s one side of multiplication and the other division. You should also brush up on your addition and subtraction, because you’re tested on that too.
(2.) Respect your teachers. Listen to them, follow they’re directions, the first time given. This counts for any adult, even out of school, your parents, teachers, lunch ladies, and anyone else in charge of you. Just listen to them don’t talk back, they are your authority, the top dogs! You know, your teachers are a big part of who you’ll grow up to be. Your teachers determine your grades, which leads to college, which leads to the rest of your life. So just shut up and do what you’re told.
(3.) Last thing, homework. Work on it. Turn it in. Easy as pie, really. When I say work on it, I mean put your time and effort into it. If you have trouble with the homework ask for help, because homework helps you learn the lesson. If you’re having a tough time with the homework, school won’t be any easier. So do whatever it takes to get it done and understand it, (keyword: understand). You also have to turn it in on time, don’t forget. It’s simple, just work on it in the time you’re given, then turn it in, finished. As I said, easy as pie.
So there you have it. I have practically emptied out my head of fifth grade knowledge. I bet you were really nervous about starting fourth grade, but it was really just a snap right? Fifth grade is the same, just another step forward.

From a fifth grader to a fifth grader,

Camille