My Experience In High School

When I first enrolled high school, I was following the current I didn’t have a plan for college or understand what I was going to do with my life. I had a challenging background when it came to academics; my scores were always “alright” but were never enough for Advance Placement courses. Constantly schoolteachers belittled me believing I wasn’t meant for learning. After hearing this I wanted to create a structured path that I could be proud of. I thought I wasn’t going anywhere in life until I challenged myself academically for a better future.

There have been times in my life in which my decisions have led to negative consequences. One of these biggest mistakes occurred my sophomore year.

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’.

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 is a very challenging part of life because you are no longer a child but not an adult , and everyone keeps asking what you want to do with your life to do when you “grow up” but most of the time they don't help you go through the process of growing up. Although there are lots of challenges it can be really fun, but only if you want it to be. My high school experience could have been a lot better but that only made me reflect and realize that I can change anything I don't like and that it is never too late to be involved.

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.

Way back in June of 2005 I graduated from Lynbrook High School in San Jose, CA and like everyone at that age, I was looking at my future not sure what I wanted to do. I was considering attending college or a tech school only because that was what everyone was expecting me to do. I was not so eager, I watched my older brother attend college and he was having a hard time of it. He was either living at home commuting an hour and a half each way, or he lived in a small studio apartment and worked 30 hours a week to pay his bills. My brother was constantly tired from a busy school schedule or he was broke because he had to live on a strict budget. He was always struggling with his assignments because of how much he worked and a constant dread of the tens of thousands of dollars in student loans he was racking up to pay his tuition. College was their but I wanted a little more I wanted to know what else there was instead of another four years of school.

Why am I still here? There's no point in learning stupid facts and formulas. I’m sketching onto a generic college brochure. I hate being in this seminar. I don’t even want to go to college. I mean it’s pretty much pointless for an artist to attend university. Thankfully it’s easy to tune out the boring monotone voices surrounding me. High school is dragging on. I am a senior this year, but it feels like an eternity until graduation.

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.

When I spot palm trees appearing as I’m coming down south from the north, that’s when I know I’m in the Rio Grande Valley. The sight of the palm trees reassuring me that I’m close to home. Weslaco, Texas is a town close to the border that separates the United States and Mexico. The region where people fill the air with the Spanish language. The schools that I’ve attended from the Weslaco Independent School District has provided me great lessons academically and in the real world. Throughout my elementary, middle, and high school years, I've learned the importance of becoming successful.

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.

By High school, my friend group had competently changed. I sat at a different lunch table every day and some days would eat lunch with a teacher. Making lasting friendships was hard for me partly because I was shy. I had hoped my freshman year of making new friends on the soccer team. I faced my first real disappointment in my life when I did not make varsity and I made JV. The friends I was trying to make all played on varsity and I increasingly felt more alone and not worthy. My first three years of high school were pretty bleak. I did not have a social life outside of school. My happy place was going home and binge-watching Netflix after soccer practice. My junior year of high school was the toughest. I am dyslexic and have dyscalculia, so basically that means school is really hard for me. Junior year destroyed me in the classroom and to make matters worse, I also hurt my ankle taking me out of soccer the one outlet I had. I was angry because I was finally starting to play on varsity and score. I was heading to a bad place in my mind thinking the world had a personal vendetta against me. I knew I had to do something to change the path I was on because I could not keep living as a shell of a person. I decided in an act of desperation to sign up for church camp. I did not go to church anymore and my view of God was quite skewed. I believed there was a God because believing he created the world made the most logical sense to me, but I thought he had abandoned us on earth. I

Starting off as a freshmen I was very quiet, I was scared of the teachers and classmates. Everyday was a struggle to get into the classrooms my body would shake, my hands would sweat, and my voice would tremble. Each and everyday felt like the first day of school. I hated the way I acted and looked at school as if it were a challenge. Being social became like solving a binary code. I could not figure out how to talk to people everyone made it seem so easy to connect to one another. I felt like a foreigner who did not know how to speak English. For the rest of the year I let myself be in isolation only speaking to my friends I have meet in middle school. As the new year came around I felt compelled to break the habit of being preserved. I went in with the intention of making at least four new friends. I knew it was something I needed to come out of if, I wanted to succeed in the near future and interacting was definitely needed for internships or job applications. Being very serious about wanting to grow as an individual I tried out for our school cheer. As I waited in line for a number to try out I was ready to just drop it and leave. My friend told me it was gonna be fine and I remained in line. As tryouts went on I felt so confident I was surprised myself. While learning the motions and dance I felt relieved. For the first time I was alive interacting with everyone who was trying out it was truly the time of my life. Two days later time to tryout came. I was me again.

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

Entering high school as a tiny freshman, I never pictured my life to be the way it is now. High school gave me a place to find who I really was, to express myself how I wanted to. A misconception I had was that high school was just a place for education, and education only. There is some truth to that, as I did gain an ample amount of knowledge throughout my years here. However, there is so much more. There are extracurriculars. There are people with interesting personalities and cultures. There are experiences; some that push me out of my comfort zone, some that gave me a slap of reality, and some that are just enjoyable.