My Experience In High School

It was fall of my final year of Junior High and I was excited to go into high school. In Arellanes Jr High School I was a very popular person but, my circle was very small. I was a short brunette that dressed like a tomboy. I was a honor band student and also a cheerleader, it was a weird combination for me. I had a boyfriend in the beginning of the year and his name was Isaac and he was the person that really motivated me to do better in school. Isaac was a tall, slim mexican boy that loved to draw. Once school finally started I would get up at seven in the morning to get ready for school. Then leave around 8:10 in order to not miss the bus to school. At my bus stop it was just a couple of kids because where I lived they called it the “rich new houses”. In the city of Santa Maria it was very small and low populated city where everyone knew each other and not many of the houses were really in the best condition. In my bus stop the kids there were the people that I would usually spent time with. Julie, Mia, and Alex were the people that I mainly talked to but then I started to notice that there was 2 new boys that were at the bus stop. I decided to step up and introduce myself. Once I introduced myself they told me that their names were Juan and Jalen. Juan and Jalen were best friends and I noticed that they were both not going in the right path. Later on throughout the year I started to become closer and closer. One day after school when Cheer practice was cancelled I was

After graduating from Forsyth Country Day School, an academically, rigorous private school, I knew the real world or the real deal was coming to me and that was college. I wasn’t too worried about college because I knew my high school had prepared me good for college by my high school treating us as if we were at a university. We took college like classes; We even had a dress code. My high school had its own honor code that was took serious. It was a challenge that I conquered. My school was in Winston-Salem, North Carolina and I live in Ridgeway, Virginia. I managed to maintain A’s and B’s waking up at 6:10 a.m. just to get to school at 8:05 a.m. It was a hour drive down and a hour drive back. It was worth it as I can see now because it prepared me.

Throughout middle school, I conformed to what was expected. I changed my clothing style, the manner in which I conversed, and the people whom I conversed with to fit in. My interests often changed to what was popular at the time, and I always tried to make as many friends as possible so that I can look good in front of other people. I didn’t even know myself. I was what society had made me out to be. My friends weren’t my real friends; I didn’t have a single interest with most of them. Over time, I started to become unsatisfied with myself. This was until my transition to high school, when I made one of the best decisions of my

My time in middle school taught me an important lesson. Becoming weary and upset over the insolent behavior of shallow individuals towards me was meaningless and would only be an obstacle in my quest to find my identity. Throughout high school, I began to break out of my shell of low self-esteem where I once sought refuge. My childhood insecurities that once haunted me became merely ghosts of the past. I became more confident and started taking the reins of many group projects. I voiced out the hard work of my peers in countless projects, leading them and presenting ideas upon ideas to the class. People soon began coming to me for tutoring and advice. I became a person who people wanted to depend upon as both a role model and a leader.

Almost three years of high school had gone by with nothing but straight As. However, my Junior year ended with a B printed firmly on my report card, yet I was proud nonetheless. I had worked my hardest in that class, harder than I had for any other. I stood by my mark, and if my best was a B, I was satisfied with that result. My pride would have been inconceivable to the Alexander of the years prior, though. I’ve been an obsessive perfectionist as far back as I can remember. I remember checking my elementary school math homework again and again, just to make sure that there were no errors at all. It was easy to be perfect when the work I got was easy and limited, but when middle school came and went and high school began, it was a different story. By the beginning of tenth grade, it was not uncommon for me to stay up several nights in a row, toiling in the office downstairs over a product that was already good but not quite flawless. As the minute hand whirled around the clock and the coffee supply dwindled, I became more tired and depressed over a goal I always fell short of. My teachers said that I did great work through, and that’s what mattered. Perfect work meant perfect grades; perfect grades meant a perfect college; a perfect college meant a perfect job, and a perfect job meant a perfect life. Schoolwork was all I thought about. Even the necessary act of eating was always accompanied with a pencil and paper. When winter break arrived and I had no papers to write, no

High School was difficult for me I will admit. I went through a lot of change in my life and I had a hard time adjusting to new environments. I tried hard though and I realized my own strengths and shortcomings. One Of the hardest things to adjust to was the acceptance of choosing whether I wanted a social life or a school life. I couldn’t correctly balance work between friends. My struggle occurred throughout my entire high school career. Even to this day I have a hard time. I wanted to feel apart and be considered the nice and fun one of the group. I wanted to be invited places even though I knew the truth was I wouldn’t be allowed to go. My social life in eleventh grade was hard. I didn’t hang out very often and I secluded myself. I look back on that year and regret nothing though. It made my 12th grade year so much easier. I don’t remember the class I took or the name of one eleventh grade teacher; Although, they were a huge inspiration to me. They told me that I wouldn’t regret my effort in twenty years, I would regret not trying hard enough. That was scary for me. Everybody says “You only live once” and they’re right. I won’t judge others people's decisions but I only have one time to make it big. The only way I will make it to where I want to be is if I do it myself. As much as I hated that year, I loved the results. I aced my PSATs and made it as one of the finalists. I remember that moment when I found out. I was so excited. I didn’t make first or even top ten but I

Sixth grade seem like a century ago, yet I still have vivid sometimes frightening memories of that wretched year. I still remember the day we learned about Idioms. How amazing it was to my sixth-grade mind that I could use these unusual phrases to describe what I was experiencing. Today I will use my most valuable sixth grade English skills and pair my favorite idiom to my experiences.

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”.

High school started for me in August, and it was my freshman year. My arsenal of pens, pencils, and binders were ready to be used. Also, I purchased a burly backpack, chic clothes, and swaggy shoes. The school supplies were supposed to impress the teachers while the aesthetics were supposed to impress the girls. Only one worked out.

I’ve never been one to jump in without looking. I can count the times I have been impulsive on one hand. My time at school is spent shifting from one class to another and then eventually heading home at the end of the day. I considered deciding to hang out with friends for an hour after school spontaneous. At school, I played tennis on a team and hardly ever wore my hair down. I was beginning to settle into the routine of high school -- the steady plodding along with backpacks spilling over with textbooks. I assumed that this would occupy the rest of my time during high school.

In the middle my 8th grade school year, I had to move and transfer schools. I was not at all pleased with this move because the new area that we lived in was completely different from what I was used to in my old neighborhood. Being at this new school, I spoke to a few people but I mostly just kept to myself. Until I met a girl named Morgan. We had to work together for a group math project. Once the project was over we still remain friends because our personalities were so similiar. She got me out of my comfort zone, showed me the ropes around the school, and even introduced me to a lot people that I eventually became friends with own my terms. Our conversations at school soon expanded to talking 24/7 at home. Later we realized that we lived about 5 minutes from each other and that made our friendship grow even more closer. By the time the school year came to an end we had become full blown bestfriends.

During my first semester of sophomore year in high school, I faced the well known dilemma of actually working for my grades and becoming pressured to the stress of high school. I was just learning how to juggle the tasks of being concertmaster (the top musician/violinist in an orchestra) of two different orchestras and the team of captain of a tennis team I joined by mistake. In that sense, I was a legitimate musician/athlete and I didn’t realize the responsibility hung on my shoulders. Later into the school year, I learned my music teacher signed me up for a performing arts program where I would travel and live on the Radford University campus and learn from world renowned musicians for four weeks during the summer. I then went through the rigorous application process of hunting down teacher recommendations, writing and rewriting admission essays, selecting music for my repertoire, and perfecting my performance technique.

4th grade was a filled with chaos. Even if I try to remember one moment, I can only pull out blurry images. But out of all of these foggy memories, one stands above all. Three years back, I’m standing in front of the whole class; face as red like blood as everyone gawks and laughs. How I got into this situation is a long story. Very little did I know, it would alter my singing ‘career’.

Me, a student attending a normal day of boring school, or so I thought. This all started with a teacher named Mrs.Reed that many students disliked due to past experiences. Stories have lingered around the school of her locking kids in her closet for bad behavior which most have not yet to been seen since. She also smacks the kids with rulers if they fail to complete their work on time. After hearing all the rumors that people murmured about Mrs.Reed I prayed that I would never have to have that teacher throughout my high school education. So far I’ve made it through a year of highschool successfully. The last thing I need is a teacher like Mrs.Reed to come along and ruin my overall thought of highschool. So, it was the first day of a new semester and the bell to first just had rung. I needed to look at my schedule to see what class I had and where. I pulled the schedule out of my back pocket to look down and see the death of me, Mrs. Reed for HIstory, Room 306. Thoughts of terror and torture drained through my mind unable to even move my feet to class. The thoughts in my head things like “am I going to be the next victim of her known history of holding kids hostage in her closet?” I inched my way down the hallway classroom 304 passed then 305 passed and then 306 the classroom of doom. I stand in the doorway with trembling knees. I took a big gulp and made my way into the class head down trying to navigate the location of my desk. Finally, finding my desk I slipped into it

In the summer vacation after sixth grade, I was ecstatic to become a student at Ball Junior High School. I wanted to meet new people, participate in extracurricular activities, and further my education. What I most desired was having a fresh start to school. After seven years of elementary school, everyone knew me as Angela, the so-called weird kid. Sometimes, the students would make fun of my voice, imagination, and sensitivity. No one at my school wanted to be friends with me. Even when a new student would transfer to the school, I would introduce myself in an attempt to befriend them. Word would get out and they did the same as the other students. As a result of that, I wanted to make new friends in junior high.