My Life In High School

Decent Essays
My High School career was not an easy one. Save preschool, my entire life had been spent in one school, Ambassadors for Christ Academy. Now I have learned of it’s notoriety as a failure of an institution, but at the time my ignorant caregivers chose to overlook the obvious negatives and hold fast to their overconfidence in their own decisions. All this in mind, I knew everyone in my freshman class, most of them on a rather intimate level. I would be lying if I said I held much else but the sort of rancid hatred one gets from being far too familiar with someone. My middle school years had been plagued with depression and bad times, so expectations moving forward were low. Knowing things would be bad, and that even the best situations there would rapidly deteriorate, I held the kind of optimism an abuse survivor has. You know, somewhere in the limited views I had been able to shamble together, I held the hope that the serially repugnant institution would stumble over some reprieve for it’s tortured students. This hope was fostered by those close to me. There were few people more supportive and loving to me than my grandmother, Ruby. She and my mother were the closest relatives I had, and they fostered this tiny spark of hope, for better or worse. To hope for such luck was foolish, and like hopes were punished. Things continued to get worse, until my family finally saw the light and encouraged me to leave my sophomore year. While the administration fought my departure, as they
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