My New School - Original Writing

My first day of the second grade, I knew no one except the teacher and my younger brother. Kindergarten and first grade had been easy enough, but I was scared of the upcoming year. The only thing I knew about being the new kid was that it hadn’t panned out too great for Addie from the American Girl books. Mrs. Henson’s class was fairly quiet throughout the day, for most kids were nervous or tired. We neared the end of the day and I was ecstatic over the fact that hadn’t made a complete fool of myself. I hadn’t met anyone yet, but I thought that that would be a challenge for another day. Unfortunately, that’s not what Mrs. Henson had in mind. She sent us all out to recess with a grin plastered on her face and with me practically kicking

The morning was foggy and I could see the front of my school through my window. It was a nice sight to see. I walked into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal and there she was with her head down on the table. I could tell that she arrived a couple of hours ago because the tears hadn’t dried from her cheeks yet. I got myself ready gave her a kiss on her forehead and headed off to school. I had walked into class eager to see what my teacher Mrs. Padron had in store for today. Every single day there was something new to learn and there’s something about that infinite nature of learning that really appealed to me as a child. I cherished those 7 hours I spent in class the most I could and I dreaded the mere thought of having to go home where I would have to face the

On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade

The classroom set up was very different than what I was used to back in Nepal. I didn’t know anyone in there. I didn’t know what to do, so I just managed to sit in the chair that was nearby the door. All the other students were staring at me like something was wrong with me. In reality, everything felt wrong to me when I was in the situation where it felt so bad that I just wanted to quit. It seemed like I was on a one-way street, and I couldn’t figure out what I should do and how I would get out from it. It was almost the end of that class. The time passed just by watching a documentary on the literature’s time period. After the bell rang, all the students left the classroom; then I walked to my teacher with the problem I was having. I was lost in every other class as the hallways get crowded and the buildings were huge. He helped me solve the problems that I had, and my first day of the new school passed in the same way as it did first three hours of that

Walking into Booth Middle School on the first day of seventh grade, all I wanted was a friend. I cared little about whether they would make an impact on my life; as a newcomer to Peachtree City, I was open to befriend anyone. Within the first week, I met Annabelle. I was so preoccupied with the excitement of having a new friend that I was unaware of how greatly she would impact not only my first day, first week, or first year of middle school, but how vastly she would affect my future.

You’re probably wondering who’s writing to you. Well, this is you: Abby (NOT Abigail) Wieland. I’m writing this when there are 3½ days left in sixth grade. I know that you are in your room, packing and repacking your school supplies. You’re also terrified for your first year of middle school. It’s not as bad as you think. Nothing really changes, except there’s different teachers for every class. Most of the time, you’ll love middle school. Just like every year, though, there will be times when you hate it. Just warning you.

First, my parent’s had to withdraw me from school, along with my sisters, Callie and Alisha. I remember going to school in my regular clothes instead of my usual ugly uniform shirt and skirt. “Why is she allowed to wear normal clothes today?” questioned Bailey, as she pointed at me with her short chubby finger. The room went quiet, and the class stared at me. My teacher, Mrs. Class, told everyone that I was leaving. After I gathered

Once again I found myself at the bottom of the food chain entering 5th grade. I had just moved back to Eureka as my mom realized she wanted to be closer to family, and I remember how scared I was. I came in the middle of the school year yet again, so there I sat in the library as I waited for my teacher to come grab me. I remember seeing familiar faces from the prior year pass by me on their way to first hour. I waited patiently, still no teacher had come to claim me for their homeroom. I realized I had been forgotten. What a great way to start off the new year... not. Finally a teacher came and got me and laughed about the fact that I was forgotten, which I failed to find as funny as she did but oh well. Looking around my homeroom I anticipated seeing all the same faces, quickly I noticed that there were A LOT of new faces,

Girls perch on the tables like exotic birds gossiping and giggling, a football fly’s above their heads between two jocks in varsity jackets parading their toned muscles. Groups of high schoolers sit around the room laughing. Weekend has arrived and the hallways of the school were filled with tons of kids ready to go home. Every ear filled with the sound of multiple conversations going off at once, lockers opening and closing, music blasting without. I had managed to push past the constant stream of children and to the school field. The grass was damp and covered in a thin layer of frost. As I walked my footprints were embedded, leaving a piece of me in the cold ground. I saw my friends faraway chattering and fooling around. I was stuck in the wrong crowd; they are nothing like me but somehow I am still friends with them. I slowly made my way up to my “so called friends”.

The bell signalling the end of second period hadn’t sounded, yet. Or maybe it had.maybe she missed it amidst the screams. She wondered if it was all over, perhaps somewhere in a distant corner of the school, students and teachers rejoiced and hugged each other knowing there was nothing left to fear. No matter how quite it was outside fear still rushed through her body, mentally and physically. She knew she couldn’t get up. Fear had paralysed her. She had fled the library and fled her way through the southern hallway when it began. The hall was infused with kinetic horror. An aimless frenzy of kids and adults bound in a reckless pack of mass confusion, like and ant hill being washed away with a hose. No new knew what to do. They just ran. Lisa couldn’t run. The fear had taken ahold of her and would allow her to move any faster than a sloth in a waking

Middle school, when that word pops up in one’s head, it’s a sudden reminder of dreadfulness, broken promises, regrets, first crushes, and last but not least, learned lessons. Another morning had brought another school day. Seeing familiar faces and teachers I just wanted to get through the day with no hassle, but that’s not always the case. At least it wasn’t for me. Making my way through the extended halls and walls that seemed to enclose upon me, I felt nothing more than like a chained prisoner. The bell rung and I remained seated in my class, encompassed by boxed, outdated computers and rusty white walls, I felt

It was a peaceful and normal first hour. Well, at least for the people in it. Everyone was yelling, and the teacher had just given up on trying to stop them, and now was just browsing for a retirement home in Key West. I looked up at Jordan, who was my best and only friend. Her spiked blond hair was never put down, even in the toughest rain. Her tan legs sat on top of her desk, and her pine green eyes scanned the school newspaper.

It was nothing like I had seen in the movies. I wondered what people thought of me and what was being said about me. I appreciated every person that made an attempt to welcome me, but seeing that it was such a small school, I knew I would be the topic of people’s conversations for the next few days as more and more people heard about the infamous “new girl.” I considered the thought that the students there had all grown up together and known the same faces all of their lives. That explained why everyone already had their cliques. Apart from impressions and reputations, I wondered what opportunities I was going to encounter here and where they would take me in

Walking to the bus stop that morning was difficult, but exciting at the same time. I was soon going to be at the high school for my first day. I knew that it was just an orientation, but I was still nervous. I don’t have any older siblings so taking my first step into the school was like a step in the dark, I had no idea what high school would actually be like. Little did I know that high school would change the way I view life, school, and grades.

The first year, the time to prove myself had arrived. Classes, rooms, teachers, and some students were unfamiliar. Eventually, minutes melted into hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. It didn’t take long before my schedule was routine, something of second nature. Humor and happiness were found in the form of my advisory family, where school was transformed into something more than going through the same motions of day to day activity. By the closing point of sixth grade, I was having a hard time letting go of what I’d adapted to. “What’s wrong?” my dad asked when I was getting into the car after being picked up early on the last day. I explained how distressed I was that my first year of middle school exceeded my expectations, and that it had to come to an end. Although his outlook viewed my reason for sorrow as trivial, I didn’t.