My Personal Experience In My First Year Of High School

Growing up an introvert was hard; I would always be the kid who sat in the back and kept her head down waiting for class to end trying to skip out on having to share. Everything about speaking to groups of people was slightly terrifying for me. Whether it was reading my answers out loud in class or even presenting a project to a crowded room it would cause me to have anxiety. I was always like this until my senior year of high school. Senior year truly helped me break out of my shell.

But now I was confronted with one of the most difficult moments of my life thus far, transitioning from a relatively small middle school to a high school with upwards of 3,000 kids. I was faced with overwhelming nervousness on my first day of my freshman year, although I did not have anything to be afraid of. Old Bridge High School is divided into two buildings- a designated building for ninth graders, and a main building, as we call it, where all sophomores, juniors, and seniors have their classes. I was never exposed to the main building before my sophomore year, therefore, I remember the first day of my sophomore year being the most nerve-wracking, even more so than my first day of high school. This building was huge- there were older kids who knew where they had to be, and there was me, and many other now-sophomores, using their map to find their way to first period geometry. It took me a couple of weeks to adapt to my schedule, and even longer to adapt to the school. Because I didn’t know anyone who had gone through my school before me, I had no one to ask questions to, no one to help me around or with my work- I was all on my own, which made it that much more

In the summer of 2013, I received an email that changed my life forever. It was up to me to accept or decline the new journey that allowed me to be accepted into Edgecombe Early College High School. I decided to accept this new journey that was filled with 5 years of butterflies, hardships, new opportunities and self improvement.

As much as I would like to claim that today was a regular day, it wasn't. With me getting ready for my college applications and personal essay, I had a lot on my mind, and the last thing I needed was another confused teammates adding to my worries. Sitting on the bleachers and I quietly working my outline for my college essay, my little cousin ran into the gym crying. We, the Obi, prided ourselves on being manly, smart, pride, understanding and thick-skinned and there was only one thing that could make him cry, and that was him getting taunted about his accent.

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’.

Of all the things I struggled with while growing up, school wasn’t one of them. The classroom was like a second home to me; everything, from the sights (desks in neat rows, spotted multicolored linoleum), to the sounds (chalk against the blackboard, shrieks on the playground), and even the smells (a combination of glue, disinfectant, and wet paper towels) wrapped me in a cocoon of comfort and familiarity. I enjoyed doing assignments, and getting to know new teachers. Purchasing new school supplies felt like a second Christmas.

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

Anyone that believes high school is the best four years of your life is grossly misinformed. That would mean the highlight of our lives consists of puberty, standardized testing, and awkward conversations. It’s a constant battle for respect from peers that believe themselves better than others. Regardless of our role in the hierarchical atmosphere, a large portion of high school students get sucked into the whirlwind of spirit and pride. I know I did. How could we not? We spend our friday nights freezing at sporting events to support our friends, our family, and our high school: the only identifying piece of information fellow Missouri residents will ask us about for decades. I’ve been out of high school for less than two years, but the most commonly asked questions among new friends and coworkers still remains: where did you go to high school? Personally, I attended Parkway South. I never planned to go back to high school but a service learning opportunity presented itself and I took an unexpected path.

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

It all started in Junior High. Before then I was just a normal everyday kid attending eighth grade. Hyper and careless. I had no worries and I lacked motivation in school, even during classes I would not listen to the teacher. But It all changed during my ninth grade year in school. In my course of the school year I started to become more aware of myself and other people around me. Peoples opinions and what they thought of me started to matter a lot. This caused me to become self conscious and shy around new people. It was hard for me to start conversations with new people, and because of that I did not make many new friends. I later realised that I had social anxiety and it would not get better anytime soon. Because following that year my family decided to move somewhere new. I was transferred to a new school with new teachers,new faces, and a new environment. I would be entering the scary unknown all by myself. My first day in the new High School was extremely scary. I did not know anyone or how to find all my new classes. The school’s hallways were cramped of the students talking loudly and slowly shuffling their way to class. My body was shoved up against other people's sides while I was looking around frantically trying to find the correct room number.The hallways were white and narrow as the flow of the students pushed me down the hallways. In my first class I had to introduce myself to the class as the new kid. Introducing myself nervously to the in the front of the

When I was a freshman starting in Gladstone High School, all I thought my only goal was to actively participate in the classes that I needed to go to college. I was reluctant of high school since I did not know what to expect. I was not the athletic one but I was smart in academics. However, there was one event during the middle of my freshman year that presented a challenge I had to face.

One of the most successful experiences I have had in my previous years in school was taking nine science credits in four years. This might not sound like much of an accomplishment, but when you consider that the requirement to graduate from most schools is three it takes on a little more weight. The reason I did this was that I want to be a doctor and that drives me to learn as much about science as I can. My top strength from the Gallop test was empathy, this helped me to get nine science credits in that my empathy partly drives my desire to be a doctor. While taking the science classes taught me a lot that will be helpful in my profession, it also taught me how to study and manage my time wisely.

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.

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.

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.