My Experience In High School

I never expected I’d spend the first two years of high school bedridden and suicidal. I was born and raised in Elmhurst, Queens. Attending the same school from kindergarten to 8th grade, I was used to being in the same environment. I was given assurance when my friends consistently told me that I was lucky and that I would be able to adapt to high school life fairly quickly — I was the outgoing one, the one who made everyone laugh.

I am embarrassed and ashamed of the snapshot you have viewed of my performance in high school. Aside from my parents, no one apart of my life over the past decade is aware I am capable of such a poor performance. I feel ashamed because my actions represent more than just myself, I represent the Army as a senior leader, one who is charged with mentoring, training, and educating some of Americas brightest young men and women. My high school years do not define me; please take in consideration the tremendous work I have strived to accomplish over the past 15 years.

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

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.

High School, for a lot of people, is bad. Bullying, bad teachers, and waves and waves of social anxiety. But some kids manage to get through it, though. And two of those kids were Cassia Mclane and Eliseo Schultz.

I spent most of my elementary at what I think is an old run down school called Greeley Grade. I loved going to school there because the classes were small and everyone knew everyone which could be bad at times. I enjoyed all the teachers and staff members because they cared so much about each and every person. One thing I loved the most about being a small school is that I felt like I was able to learn more and be more myself than I have ever been. I also like that the teachers could have more time to spend with you to make sure you know what you need to. Everyone there respected each other and helped everyone out. At the high school we have a teacher for every specific job, a para that goes certain places, and nobody goes to another class to help any other teacher out. At Greeley Grade that is what we did, helped each other out. We had a cook that was also a para that worked with students, teachers helped other kids with work for anything, and everyone knew we could rely on each other for everything. I felt more like I was home and welcomed more at Greeley and maybe that is just because I was there for so long. I am not saying that Greeley was the perfect school but I definitely liked it there. It is an easier transition from elementary school to the high school if you went to an elementary school with fifty or so kids in your class, but it is difficult when you go from fifty kids in your whole school to fifty kids just in your grade. My sixth grade year I did decide to go

My life has currently led up to now, the end of my eighth grade year. This year has been quite the experience. Academically, I've learned so many new things and gotten good grades. What I've learned about life though has been a completely different experience. This year has taught me what hard work and perseverance provide, how to be myself, and self-acceptance; All of which are lessons I will be able to bring along with me to high school and on.

n the second grade, after a fun weekend of watching football, I decided to go to my parents if I could start playing football. They decided to get me to play soccer first and see if I enjoyed that, and being the stubborn little kid that I was. So after a year of soccer, my parents asked if I liked it and I told them no. That fall I signed up for the Little Devils, a little league football team. My football career started out great. I was a starter for my first four years at the Little Devils. Quarterback which was my favorite position to play. In my last year as a starter, my team went undefeated and won the championship with me at quarterback. The next season everyone had grown a lot more than I did. I was very short and the head coach decided to not let me start at quarterback and instead moved our running back at quarterback. The next year was my 8th-grade year I started the first game, but I struggled and eventually lost the job. I also broke my left arm ending my little league career.

If I think about who I was at the beginning of junior year, I can’t count the number of times that I spaced out when answering questions about myself. I had never really thought about what really motivated me, and I wasn’t interested in pursuing anything in my life. The “getting to know you” questionnaires that teachers make their students fill out were my nightmare. The people I had ended up surrounding myself with were not the kind of teenagers that I could relate to, and I was wearing, saying, and doing all the wrong things all the time. I came to school wearing uncomfortable clothes because I didn’t feel like I fit in my own skin. Sweatshirts and large t-shirts were a norm for me, because I was worried about my body image. I let my friends take advantage of me. I allowed myself to get hurt, but I ended up forgiving them anyways. It wasn’t just my friends though, as I blamed everyone else for my own problems. I never owned up to my mistakes. I turned on good friends, and created even worse relationships with others around me. Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t a bad kid. I rarely got into trouble with my parents, and my grades were pretty good. I thought I was doing everything right, even though I found myself upset at the end of the day. Outside influencers were making me passive and afraid to stand up for myself. I couldn’t speak or act for myself. To be quite frank, I didn’t know who I was or that I needed to change in order to be happy. My routine of going to school and

“Sorry, I can’t. I have homework.” That was the constant excuse I used in high school when my friends asked if I wanted to hang out. Junior year of high school was a rough year for me--not only was I taking six AP classes in one year, but I was also in the marching band which dominated a lot of my time. I was so invested in all of these that I forgot how to even socialize. I would negate a lot of my friends and family who wanted to gather and just spend some time with me. Now, don’t get me wrong, this does not mean that I was a loser by any means, I loved to “hang” and party and all the typical teenager tropes. It was just that year. That one year that I screwed myself over with a crap ton of demanding classes. That one year I wish I could do all over again. That one year that would have been enormously simpler had I been amicable enough to accept other people into my life. Which leads to the situation that most strongly defines what my dilemma during my junior year: I should have gone to the movies instead.

Growing up, I had always been the best. The best student. The best son. The best athlete. Learning came easily to me. I don't recall having to study very much. I was a sponge of information. I loved reading. My room is adorned with books, certificates, and trophies, all of which I had earned. Naturally and easily. It didn't go unnoticed either. I was in Pre-K for the second year, because legally I was too young to start Kindergarten when my mother took a chance on a school that would allow me to start a year early. This school had more rigid standards (yes, even for a 4-year-old), but I was able to not only get into this school but excel. During my middle school years, my parents decided that public school was not enough for me. I noticed it too, but I was having fun. Being the best if fun. By the end of the 7th-grade year, my mom talked to me about attending Central Catholic High School. PCC was among the most prestigious private schools in the City of Pittsburgh. They were the creme de la creme of high schools. Most people call it the Ivy League of high schools. You can only get in by a combination of tests, recommendations, and interviews. It's a college preparatory school in every sense of the word. It too was the best.

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.

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.

I, in most respects, am a perfectly normal teenager. On any given day, you can find me laid across my best friend’s bed, homework in tow, munching on junk food and chatting about the latest gossip. If I’m not there, you might be able to find me curled up in bed, binge-watching the latest shows on Netflix. My weekends are filled to the brim with shopping and team spirit, as my friends and I cheer on our football team under those bright Friday night lights. All of this combined presents a vignette of the typical high school girl. However, my high school experience has been anything but typical, as I have spent the last year and a half of my life attending high school on a college campus.

When I was young, I did not do well in school and was not very social. I was the quiet person in the room that did not learn or understand anything. School and life was only about surviving and not failing, as I put minimal effort into everything I did. Only motivated to not be a complete failure. I was as bright as a muddy shoe. However, this shoe would soon be renewed, as my 8th grade Civics teacher, Mr. Caslavka, polished this shoe.