Writing like Audre Lorde. Ex.#1 of teahcer #2.

When I was 15 years old and still an ornery teenager, I walked into Mr. Robinson's eighth period History class on the third floor of Heritage Jr. High. Having been a monastery before it became a school, Heritage was the newest and nicest of the three Jr. Highs in town. Mr. Robinson sat at his huge grey metal desk always wearing a black coloured shirt and khaki trousers. His oversized bright yellow pencil never went unnoticed sitting at the front of his desk, it boasted his name engraved in big bold black letters "Mr. Robinson". His class was held toward the end of the day, there were nine periods in total for a full day of school and Mr. Robinson's lengthy history class was in period eight. As each student drug their feet slugging into the classroom, already weary and worn down from the long day of classes, our first sight was of Mr. Robinson sitting proudly at his desk straight in front of the door. After the students sat down in their chosen seats, each one next to their best friend or favourite classmate, Mr. Robinson made everyone stand up and line shoulder to shoulder against the far wall of the classroom. He then called out each student by last name first and first name second, pointing to a specific faded brown desk in the room directing that the student called must sit there in the assigned seat. Once all seats were assigned Mr. Robinson handed out a contract which stated that each individual in the classroom would be responsible for coming to class daily, paying attention, remaining in their assigned seats, taking notes, and keeping quiet; "quiet" having been printed in bold, larger font and underlined. This contract was to be signed, in black ink only, by every student sitting in the classroom.