My Experience At My First Volleyball Practice

When the first day came, I arose to the sun shining through the blinds in my room. As I sat up, I felt the butterflies circling in my stomach. I was nervous to start fifth grade at a new school, and have new friends and teachers. I quickly ran to my closet and pulled out my freshly ironed jumper.

I walked outside the next morning feeling great. The bright vibrant sun shone on the freshly mowed grass. I loaded into my sister's car and we went off to school. The day passed extremely rapid,

Middle school is a time when kids attempt to figure out how they fit in, and that is exactly what I was looking to do when I started playing volleyball. I was in seventh grade when I decided to try out, and it was only because my best friend was playing. Little did I know just how organized and complex the game was; I just assumed volleyball was a more intense version of “don’t let the balloon touch the ground.” I never thought that I would become so passionate about this sport that it would have an impact on my character.

It all started on a warm sunny day, my dad had just arrived from Michigan. He came into the house gave my siblings, my mother and me a hug and told us the big news. “We are moving to Michigan” he said. He said it so calmly as if expecting my siblings, my mother and myself to react in a good way. Immediately I started to panic, I didn’t want to leave the place I grew up in. I was only eleven years old, I didn’t know how the people in Michigan would be. Finally I spoke “ I don’t want to move dad, I love it here!” which he responded with “I’m sorry but we are going to move because we can’t afford to live here anymore” He said this so emotionless as if not knowing how this could affect me. I hardly got any sleep that night for the fact that my parents were arguing for what felt like all night, but in reality was just an hour.

The ball whipped through the air, echoing through the gym like the snap from a leather whip. Lauren, our libero,had served. I glanced at the flashing scoreboard and winced at the score: 21-23. The other team had received the ball and were ready to set their outside hitter. Their hitter made a lightning fast approach and the ball spun through the air over to our side, aimed right at me.

They all waited for an answer and I was reluctant to give them one. They wouldn’t like my response. “I don’t think I’m good enough.” I answered honestly. “You shouldn’t think like that.” It was Noah, this time. I was surprised by his input. So were my parents because they encouraged him to go on. Noah was never one to give me advice or motivating words. So I understood how awkward he felt to continue, but knew that if he wanted to get off the dinner table he would have to go on. “I mean, I’ve seen you play before and you’re really actually pretty great.” He continued, his voice shaking. I looked down to play with the leftovers on my plate. I wasn’t used to hearing him talk about me with so much emotion in his voice. We barely say anything nice to each other. So hearing what he had to say made the awkward tension like a thick glass in the air just waiting to fall. The more he talked, the heavier that glass got. “I think you should try out for the team. They’ll be lucky to have someone as passionate about the sport as you are.” He finished, trying to smile and make it less

Starts In the morning I step out of my car and it is pitch dark and eerie quiet, it's early morning the day after a tragic football game and everyone is tired and anticipating the meet ahead. We all sat mumming with each other and feeling comptable. When I hear the push, hum of the school bus arriving up the drive. Everyone is ready just to get on the bus to sleep. When on the bus I can't get to sleep because I'm sharing my seat with a girl and the bus driver doesn't stop talking. We show up at the meet and i'm waiting for the tent to be put up so I can lay my bag down. My shoulder was aching and the grass was scratching my leg. During the warm up I was thrilled because two male teammates decided to run with us. They both smelt magnificent.

I looked out the window and I saw my school, I could my little kids running and smiling around the playground, a few miles away the car slowly stopped. "We're here", I could hear my heart jump of happiness. We got off the car, I ran and opened the door.

After some warm-up activities and a pep talk from the coach, the game started. To my surprise Sarah was in the starting line-up. She ran up and down the field for the first ten minutes or so, and she finally had an opportunity to kick the ball. She took her first kick, missed the ball, and landed flat on her back. She got up, and came crying over to the sideline and begged, "Don't make me play anymore, Dad, I can't do it." She refused to go back into the game. The game ended, and on the way to the car she continued to cry, "Don't make me play Dad, please, I don't want to." I mustered up all my courage and I said to her sternly, "You're playing. You are playing. Now get in the car." She got in the car and we drove home. On the way home all I heard was a bunch of sniffling and whining in the back seat. I didn't have a very long ride home, but I can tell you this. She wore me out. I was emotion ally exhausted by the time I got home. We pulled up into the driveway, and I sat miserably in the car as I watched Sarah get out and walk into the house, sniffling and shaking as she walked through the front door. I sat stewing in the car and said to myself, "Who wants to play soccer anyway, dumb game." I then attempted to further rationalize my thoughts by saying to myself, "Soccer's for boys anyway." I walked into the house, stood at the bottom of the stairs and yelled up the stairs, "SARAH." She

I woke up in an unfamiliar place. I felt warm and safe, but I wasn’t sure why. Then it came to me. I was home. Not just one of the foster homes I had been in before, but a real home. A forever home. A place where I had a mother and a father, and plenty of food and clothes for me. I looked over to where my sister was sleeping peacefully on the bed next to me, and joy made my whole body feel warm.

Volleyball has been a large part of my life the past five years as I've played on Greenwood High School's Team. My transition from elementary school to middle involved joining the high school volleyball team, along with two other to-be seventh graders. These past few years have been marked with both struggle and triumph as we experienced three different coaches as the original coach stepped down. This left us with only 14 girls to play with one year, when an average volleyball team plays with 30 girls. We struggled as a team that year but we also came closer together through shared experience, which enabled us to work together even better as a team the year after under the tutelage of our third coach. My ninth grade year I participated very heavily on the team as I played both Freshman and

Anxiety surged through every portion of my body. Tears streamed down my face almost as fast as thoughts flooded through my head. “It won’t be the same. You’ll be uncomfortable. The coach will hate you. They’ll all make fun of you. You won’t be good enough.” I struggled to push the thoughts from my head.

Even though it was summer it was still a comfortable morning where it was hot but with a perfect cool breeze.It was a time before my mom and dad had divorced.I ran outside and played barfoot in the grass while my mom and dad fixed up and old garden we had in the corner of our yard.We lived in a small but perfectly cozy house with a basement and my best friend Sasha,Sasha was a beautiful young dog at the time.

Devastated, I ran to my room gushing my eyes out. All these emotions going through my head of how my life would be without my parents in the same room or even house. From what I remember it all started about mid-June, the weeks before that were crucial. My parents would always argue over how to deal with a situation between me and my brother, Skyler. They hardly spoke to one another, but when they did they would just start bickering. I remember, one night after dinner they both went into ''their'' room with the door locked yelling at one another. Skyler and I didn’t know what to do, so we went downstairs and tried to figure out what was going to happen. With a scared tone I asked if mom and dad were going to get a divorce?" He answered back '' No, they love each other, they wouldn’t do that to us." That following night, was a school night everything was quiet except for my crying. I couldn’t sleep; all I was thinking about how it's going to affect my family.

I had woken up in feeling very gusto that day all because my first volleyball practice was supposed to start today. It was a nice cool fall morning with red, orange, and golden leaves scattered all over the ground, in the trees, and filling the air. I walked outside and felt the cool, crisp air expand around my body. My breath was thin and clear as I released each breath. Stepping into the car, my