Middle School-Personal Narrative

School was exactly how I had imagined it to be while I was in grade school. I had the privilege of having recess, early lunch hours, and most importantly, naptime! The day I started sixth grade, my whole world seem as if it flipped upside down. I was no longer at the top of the “food chain”, school was way more stressful, and I had, in fact, found new talents within myself.

Starting middle school was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. There was a brand new campus to explore, but we were also nervously anticipating the academic program that was about to begin. Most of my grade had been together since the age of four and by this time there were clear social divides. There were the girls who were seen as popular, and then there was everybody else. You could say that I was part of the popular crowd, though at the time I didn’t notice myself standing apart from the others. As a group of friends we got on well, we’d hang out, go to the cinema, have sleepovers, all the usual things friends do. Then things gradually started to change.

From my experience, surviving middle school takes a mixture of luck, naive fearlessness, and an aggressive number of colorful plastic binders. I started my first day of fifth grade a jumbled mess of nerves, anxious about making friends and doing well in class, and inexplicably dressed head-to-toe in red, white, and blue swag my mom got when the Summer Olympics were in Atlanta. I mean, my backpack matched my shoelaces, which matched my pants and my shirt. I might have even had a hat. A hat. A precisely matching hat. That I wore all day. Needless to say, I was not a particularly cool child. I studied hard, had a core group of equally nerdy friends, and constantly worried about whether I was doing the right thing or, perhaps more accurately, becoming the right thing. Was I not studying hard enough to get into college? Or maybe studying too hard, missing out on my youth? Would I grow into my teeth one day? Would my skin eventually stop looking like greasy peanut brittle?

When I hear the word “survival”, I think of someone who has made it through the impossible or conquered a near death experience; but that isn't all that it means. According to the the Merriam Webster dictionary, “A survivor is a person who copes well with difficulties in their life.” Moving from elementary school to middle school taught me many new characteristics such as how to be more independent, responsible, and more open to changes.

In Middle School, where we were still growing up as adults, we did not like following the rules. I was in 9th grade. That day the bell rang for our next class and me and my friends did not want to go to our next class right away. We waited outside the room for our next class and chilled and talked. Me and my friends were in class all day and we wanted to let go of some energy. We kept talking and if our teacher came, we would go into the class right away. Our school did not like students to hang out in the hallway because they made too much noise. We did not care, we still chilled outside the class. We talked about new shoes and what we were going to do after school. It was so much fun because I had not seen my friends since 8th grade and it was the

I remember when it was time to go from being a 12 year old 6th grader, to a 12 year old middle schooler with a lot more responsibilities than I was used to having. I had to make sure all my homework was done on time (It took me awhile to get the idea of no late homework hammered into my head), asked for help when I needed it the teacher wasn’t going to help as much as the elementary teachers would do unless I asked, with asking for help was a lot harder than I thought it would be everyone was confused too, after awhile the teacher finally got tired of running around the room jumping from student to student, marched up to the front of the class and wrote on the board of how to do a certain assignment.

I walked into the loud building so scared and nervous. I couldn't believe today was the day. The day i'm finally in middle school. That day was the day that I could officially call myself a Vista Verde Middle School student. When I walked into the building the bell had rung for us to proceed to class. On my I spotted one of my very good friends, Esmeralda. After I said hi to her I walked to my first period class which is room 403 and my teacher is Ms. Blasnek.

Middle school was the worst three years of my life. From getting bullied to getting suspended each year of middle school, I learned that it’s not that pleasing and not that great. I honestly would say that I strongly dislike it and would never go back and do it over again because it was boring as can be, too much bullying, and getting suspended. I have learned my lessons and thought about what I've done.

In November, the air is cool and burns my face. The wind passes through my nose and it feels as if I am breathing in a thousand miniature razors. My finger tips and ears are numb. My right side aches where I had been elbowed in the ribs and my ankle from where I tripped just up the field. I hear my mom in the crowd, “Go, baby, go!” Even though, every muscle in my body screams for me to stop, I go. The pain does not bother me, neither does the cold. I am just happy to be here.

Sweat saturated every crease and contour of my hands as I neared the front of the lunch line. Inch by solemn inch, I crept closer—anxiety overwhelming me. What will they think of me? Will they laugh at me? Before I could muse their possible perceptions, I found myself at the end of the line.

All day, teachers had been acting weird. I caught on halfway through first hour, for we didn't even take the data point that was scheduled for today. The data point counted for half of my grade, and I actually studied for it. That was not the Mr. Grewert I knew.

I lived in Sterling, Illinois, in a decent sized house outside city limits. I never actually attended middle school, as I was home-schooled for sixth, seventh, and eighth grades. During home-school, I got to spend all of my day dealing with my siblings (which is worse than it sounds). If it wasn't my siblings, it was my dad, who I don't really talk to as is. Nothing is the matter between us, I just don't talk much. Most of my time not in school or dealing with my family was spent in video games or exploring a nearby forest. There wasn't much between those two, as I only had two friends I talked to. I worried for the longest time that I would go my middle school AND high school years with only those two friends. I wasn't one that could be described

Middle school was a very big transition for me. I went from a class of 20 people to a class of 35 people and one classroom to six classrooms! At first I was very anxious because I had been in class with the same people continuously for most of my school life, and now I would barely see those people. Over the past two years of my middle school experience, I have lost friends, made better friends, learned more, matured, and became more independent. Middle school has taught me how to be independent. I had learned that I could not rely on my teacher to remind me that I need to turn in my work, that I needed to figure out my problems myself, and that I needed to ask for help if I need it. I am very grateful that middle school has taught me all

Middle school for me wasn’t that fun because the teachers seem boring. The reason I found it boring because all of my classes from 6th-8th weren’t all fun because I couldn’t listen to music.Sure I had my friends but the assignments were boring or as exciting.The only time I was excited for something was my 7th grade field trip because it was a day without school, we to Medieval Times, we ate, watch a show and not do work for the whole day.I guess my 8th grade field trip but it was at the end of the school year.the last three days of

Week One: This week was an interesting week. I was at my church working and it was about that time for our yearly fire inspection coming up soon. So we were getting all of our building fire alarms panels renewed, and we had this one young guy name Adam Shabli from Cintas who came to look at our building. As the conversation continues we started just to talk about life and he asked me and the campus pastor if we were the pastors here at church. We replied saying yes and he had a shocked look. He said that we dress to fresh that he would of never knew. It was funny to us, and he started asking questions about Christianity. He grew up in a Jewish home, his parents are from Israel. He was shocked when we told him that we read the old testament.