This is an example essay of not judging a book by its cover
In dealing with people, you can't judge a book by its cover. Everything, or for that matter, everyone, is not as it or they seem. Every old person isn't sick, every young person isn't healthy, every poor kid isn't unhappy, nor is every rich kid happy. Things vary, therefore making people different.
When I was about 12 years old, we moved into a new neighborhood. It was a very nice, "upper middle" class neighborhood. We were the, I guess, the poor family in the neighborhood. There was this one girl who lived next door to us whose parents were very wealthy. She was hateful. So mean. Every time she saw my sisters, or me her friends would talk about us or make fun of our clothes. For a long time I hated all rich kids. One day, out of nowhere I met a girl named Sam. She stood up for me and asked me why I had not stood up for myself. I answered, because rich people are just mean and hateful. I wouldn't waste my time or breath to even argue with them. After a while, Sam and I had become friends. She spent the night over our house all of the time. The weird thing was that I never went or stayed the night at hers. Her mom always brought her over and picked her up.
One day, her mom asked if I would come to a surprise birthday party for Sam. I was so excited about going over there and seeing her house for the very first time. Her mom said she would pick me up and would bring me home if necessary. My mom agreed and I was ready to go. At 4:14 PM sharp, her mom, Mrs. Nancy, arrived and we were off. We rode a few blocks and she turned into a driveway, which was the nicest I had ever seen. I just cringed to think that one of those hateful, mean kids would be there and I sank down in the seat. When we stopped in front of the house, I didn't move. Mrs. Nancy got out of the car and waited for me to get out. I told her to go ahead in and I would wait for her in the car. She laughed and said, "No silly, this is our house." Goodness was I ever shocked. Who would have thought that all
When I was about 12 years old, we moved into a new neighborhood. It was a very nice, "upper middle" class neighborhood. We were the, I guess, the poor family in the neighborhood. There was this one girl who lived next door to us whose parents were very wealthy. She was hateful. So mean. Every time she saw my sisters, or me her friends would talk about us or make fun of our clothes. For a long time I hated all rich kids. One day, out of nowhere I met a girl named Sam. She stood up for me and asked me why I had not stood up for myself. I answered, because rich people are just mean and hateful. I wouldn't waste my time or breath to even argue with them. After a while, Sam and I had become friends. She spent the night over our house all of the time. The weird thing was that I never went or stayed the night at hers. Her mom always brought her over and picked her up.
One day, her mom asked if I would come to a surprise birthday party for Sam. I was so excited about going over there and seeing her house for the very first time. Her mom said she would pick me up and would bring me home if necessary. My mom agreed and I was ready to go. At 4:14 PM sharp, her mom, Mrs. Nancy, arrived and we were off. We rode a few blocks and she turned into a driveway, which was the nicest I had ever seen. I just cringed to think that one of those hateful, mean kids would be there and I sank down in the seat. When we stopped in front of the house, I didn't move. Mrs. Nancy got out of the car and waited for me to get out. I told her to go ahead in and I would wait for her in the car. She laughed and said, "No silly, this is our house." Goodness was I ever shocked. Who would have thought that all