Until the summer of my sophomore year, I was unquestionably shy. I was the kid whose raised hand lifted four inches off the table and who slouched over her sketches of strangers. That summer, I was forced to change. A pre-college program for the nerdiest of nerds at Carnegie Mellon called the National High School Game Academy forced this small, glasses-wielding ball of anxiety to start over. On the first day of the program, I completely forgot my roommate's name, three times in the same conversation. Faced with a roommate whose name I simply could not remember swinging her legs over the back of a chair, panic set in. Her name was Julianna. She was addicted to Trident Watermelon Twist, and every time we would walk out the door, she would buy another pack of gum. Normally, I probably wouldn't have talked to her. But I had to talk to her---we shared a living space. In the program, they gave us an insane amount of homework, because they wanted to put us through a program that was similar to their master's level coursework. Most nights we stayed up until 2 am, and in order to have food after midnight, we would go to the little store near the game design classroom to buy Oreos. The program directors were determined to drag us into new territory--and new people. Assignments included frequent playtesting with new faces from other programs and team projects with teacher-assigned classmates. I found that talking to them wasn’t as stressful and painfully dull as I’d predicted. Our
It was freshman year in high school, and I was ecstatic about the fact that I can officially refer to myself as a high school student. However, not everything was perfect, nor filled with sunshine and rainbows. It was just two weeks into the school year when I faced my first arduous obstacle.
I remember the first day I started high school I was so nervous. As a kid I always remember I would had an anxiety problem for almost every little thing. I wake ever morning nauseated, even though there was nothing to worry about because I mean after all it was just school. I remember thinking damn I just got out of middle school here goes another 4 long school years. But what I didn’t know was that those years would go by so fast. After all like everyone says, a lot happens in 4years. On my first day everything was amazing. I had made new friends, so far I liked all my teachers, and I got into this Culinary Arts class that I didn’t even know I liked. I learned so much in Culinary, Everyday I would go in excited to see what I would learn the next.it amazed me so much I even started to help my mom cook, I learned so much in so little so that’s when I discovered I had a passion for learning how to cook and for food. I can honestly say I’m so glad I got into that class because now I know how to cook a little bit of Italian thanks to my culinary class and to wonderful godfather who is an excellent chef in New York City. I learn a lot from my mother who I’m forever thankful I just don’t tell her as much. Thanks to her I learn how to cook almost all kind of Mexican food, I learn how to be a little more responsible, I got into finishing my Diploma.
In September, I strode through the front doors of a building containing 1400 students, none of whom I had ever met. Regardless of my initial hesitance, my first week went well enough, a blur of orange lockers, events, classrooms, names, and faces. What do you think of when you hear “new kid”? Are they shrewd or frivolous? A fish out of water, or a natural born insider? As the weeks passed, I asked myself the same questions, recognizing the opportunity to remake myself. However, one year later, I have not changed anything fundamental about my personality, except that, out of necessity, I am now more
Right now I am a freshman taking both honors Biology and English. I have actually never thought about not taking honors classes before I was even in high school. I guess it has always been assumed that I would be taking honors classes and harder classes. It’s something that my parents have talked to me and my sibling about when we were little so that it could be a goal for us. The high school is different, but in a good way. We have longer passing periods, longer classes (so you can finish more work) and more opportunities such as clubs, more sports, and different classes.
It was the beginning of a new cycle. Every year was similar to the last. I would wake up Monday through Friday at 7:30am despising my past self for staying up so late playing video games or watching videos. Then I would take a shower, eat breakfast, and be driven to school. Once summer break would begin and I would stay up all night and sleep during the day. Then near the beginning of the school year my anxiety would strike, from me thinking of meeting new teachers and knowing if I would have any friends in my classes. This day changed all of that in the blink of an eye. It was May 14th, 2017, the day of graduation.
Experiencing High school is where it all began for me. Of course my middles school teachers tried to make us all feel as if high school was going to be hard and a bit scarey, but it wasn’t until I was ending tenth grade and the beginning eleventh grade when i started feeling that way. I had an idea of what my future wanted to look like but didn’t know how or if I could get there, until I took a class called PFM (Personal Financial Management). My experience taking PFM taught me why i needed to get serious about what today millennials call “adulting”.
“So, why did you choose to come here?” a dorm proctor asked the very first time we met, right in front of my room in Bancroft Hall, which would be my new home for the next nine months. Confused and a little jet lagged, I did not respond; I nodded, smiled, and stepped back into my room. As the door closed, locking me into my little world of isolation, I thought about the question. I did not know the answer, for I did not “choose” to come to this school. In fact, I expected to attend a school in the UK. However, as a Thai Scholar, I did not have much choice but to go wherever the Thai embassy told me to go. As fate had it, I was placed in one of the most prestigious high schools: Phillips Exeter Academy.
High school teachers tend to give “easy points” and not care too much about what students do and learn. In my experiences in high school all my teachers acted as if they didn’t care, leading to my inability to be prepared for college.
All my life I have attended my hometowns education school districts. I knew every student in school because we had all grown up together since preschool. I recall middle school being the best three years of my life for the reason I was very popular and had a boyfriend who I once thought was perfect for me. As I knew everyone, everybody knew me and wanted to be in my life. This was until I moved on to high school and that's when everything changed for me. I went from being this girl that everyone praised to a depressed girl that was loathed, and for that reason, it encouraged me to switch schools.
As I opened my eyes and allowed my posture to relax, I let out a long, deep breath. The Buddhist monk conducting the religious ritual made his closing remarks, and I was sent out of the temple, back into the sweltering heat of summer in Virginia. Because a scout is reverent, it was expected of me by my troop that I attend one religious ceremony during my time at the National Scout Jamboree. Leading up to the service, my 13 year old self was especially concerned that the experience would be long, boring, and uneventful. “Why should I have to sit in silence when I could be rock climbing or mountain biking?” I thought. After the ceremony, however, I was at peace. I found that I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. By the time my troop and I left the Jamboree, the culmination of my adventures started to awaken something within me.
At first there is nothing, it is dark. The only visible lights are the blue glows emitted from the work bulbs, and a small yellow line of light seeping in from under the grand curtain. I am in a frozen scene, a life, a story that is not my own. It is as if all the people around me turned to stone, and there I stood among them trying not to shake. The grand drape begins to squeak as it slowly glides open. For a moment the faces in the crowd looking up at me are visible, and the spotlights come on. Breaking the silence, the frozen statues and I begin to blink and come to life. This is how every performance began in the theatre productions I participated in at my high school. Theatre gave me an outlet to escape reality while creating a beautiful piece of art amongst newly blossoming friendships.
It all started in middle school I got suspended a lot of times for arguing with my teachers. I would argue with my teacher about the smallest things such as talking while they were talking. It made me feel like they never understood why I talked all the time. I always tried to solve problems and most teachers didn’t agree. One time I disrespected my teacher and as a result I got sent to the principal’s office. Walking to the principal office I thought about how close my principal and I were. The walked seemed extra long because I would look back to see the small narrow hallway behind me. My principal understood me and always listened to what I had to say. Even though we were close I never wanted to face the consequences he gave me.
Maybe it was the thought of what people felt about me, or the way I felt their glare on my back as I walked past a group of people. It could also have been the way that people stopped talking as I got closer to them and all that gave them away was the accusatory look in their eyes. The tables had turned suddenly letting me with no choice but to experience the way that other half lived. Living as a socially awkward student was difficult, but living amidst all the flying rumors was close to impossible. That fall was a life lesson that made me appreciate the friends I had and humbling me to see past the materialism that existed in the school to the vanity of it all.
In the late months of the two-thousand and fourteen first semester, I had begun my dangerous excursion into a precarious realm of stress and irritation to a juvenile network of literacy and instruction. I was beginning my first year of high school, which was still a new territory for me. I had previously attended at Howe middle school, but I was not prepared for high school. At my high school, the building is different than any other building on the campus. The high school building is on one continuous slab of the concrete foundation, but there is a gap in between the two halves of the building. In this gap, there is a connecting concrete flooring that is level with the two previous halves’ floors. The Howe students, faculty and I called this structure the “breezeway.” During a hot school day, the wind tunneled through the breezeway and brush across me like an ocean of cool air. Of all the memories in the breezeway at my high school, I can remember one moment where I saw something that changed my outlook on what I wanted to become.
The day I left home for the first time to start Junior High was a bright day, brimming with hope and optimism. I’d always done well at school, so expectations for me were high, and I had gleefully set foot into a new chapter of student life, relationships and experiences. Now appearances, of course, can be deceptive, and to an extent, this spirited and energetic persona of mine had only been a veneer, although a very convincing one. The truth is underneath of it all, I was deeply unhappy, insecure and fundamentally frightened-- frightened of other people, of the future, of failure, and of the emptiness that I felt was within me. Despite all of this, I was very skilled at hiding it, and from the outside I appeared to be someone with everything to hope for and aspire to. This fantasy of invulnerability was so complete that I had even deceived myself, and by the end of the first year, no one could’ve predicted what was about to happen.