Personal Narrative: After School

From my experience, surviving middle school takes a mixture of luck, naive fearlessness, and an aggressive number of colorful plastic binders. I started my first day of fifth grade a jumbled mess of nerves, anxious about making friends and doing well in class, and inexplicably dressed head-to-toe in red, white, and blue swag my mom got when the Summer Olympics were in Atlanta. I mean, my backpack matched my shoelaces, which matched my pants and my shirt. I might have even had a hat. A hat. A precisely matching hat. That I wore all day. Needless to say, I was not a particularly cool child. I studied hard, had a core group of equally nerdy friends, and constantly worried about whether I was doing the right thing or, perhaps more accurately, becoming the right thing. Was I not studying hard enough to get into college? Or maybe studying too hard, missing out on my youth? Would I grow into my teeth one day? Would my skin eventually stop looking like greasy peanut brittle?

In Middle School, where we were still growing up as adults, we did not like following the rules. I was in 9th grade. That day the bell rang for our next class and me and my friends did not want to go to our next class right away. We waited outside the room for our next class and chilled and talked. Me and my friends were in class all day and we wanted to let go of some energy. We kept talking and if our teacher came, we would go into the class right away. Our school did not like students to hang out in the hallway because they made too much noise. We did not care, we still chilled outside the class. We talked about new shoes and what we were going to do after school. It was so much fun because I had not seen my friends since 8th grade and it was the

After sitting at the same desk for three years, I figured I was beyond seeing anything new. I was wrong. After that third year I saw a lot more than I thought I would. I went up to high school and everything was so much different. The grades were harder, the assignments were harder and the teachers were harder.

I walked into the loud building so scared and nervous. I couldn't believe today was the day. The day i'm finally in middle school. That day was the day that I could officially call myself a Vista Verde Middle School student. When I walked into the building the bell had rung for us to proceed to class. On my I spotted one of my very good friends, Esmeralda. After I said hi to her I walked to my first period class which is room 403 and my teacher is Ms. Blasnek.

With the end of middle school in sight, I have done lots and lots of thinking. I have been thinking about how I got her . I don’t think I would be here today without my grandma. Now, that might seem funny, but it’s true. She was there for me. Whether it was when we were together, or calling me to make sure I was okay after I had a hard day. Unlike some of the people around me she saw me as a kid who just made a mistake when I got suspended. While others saw me as a kid who was only going to fail. She made me feel better about myself during the times that I really didn’t. My middle school teachers also helped me through middle school Mr. Genco taught me that school was a fun place to be at. He taught me that it wasn’t stupid rather an enjoyable

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 trouble, 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, surrounded by boxed, outdated computers and rusty white walls, I felt helpless.

I lived in Sterling, Illinois, in a decent sized house outside city limits. I never actually attended middle school, as I was home-schooled for sixth, seventh, and eighth grades. During home-school, I got to spend all of my day dealing with my siblings (which is worse than it sounds). If it wasn't my siblings, it was my dad, who I don't really talk to as is. Nothing is the matter between us, I just don't talk much. Most of my time not in school or dealing with my family was spent in video games or exploring a nearby forest. There wasn't much between those two, as I only had two friends I talked to. I worried for the longest time that I would go my middle school AND high school years with only those two friends. I wasn't one that could be described

Back within seventh grade towards the start of the school year I was put into a course called "Advanced Art" and I sat with a friend. My friend, Javier, wasn't suppose to have the class so he was sure to leave within weeks. During the time with him I noticed this big group of friends that seemed quite interesting to me. Around the time when he had his classes changed the song "Wrecking Ball" by Miley Cyrus came along and I drew a funny picture about it. I introduced myself into the big group and at first they seemed off about me but then they accepted me, especially this one girl named Tiffany. We had a few classes together so we would sit together and this was a start of a story of best friends.

Life is like an ocean. It ebbs and flows. The only certainty is that there isn't any. {except for death & taxes}.

Week One: This week was an interesting week. I was at my church working and it was about that time for our yearly fire inspection coming up soon. So we were getting all of our building fire alarms panels renewed, and we had this one young guy name Adam Shabli from Cintas who came to look at our building. As the conversation continues we started just to talk about life and he asked me and the campus pastor if we were the pastors here at church. We replied saying yes and he had a shocked look. He said that we dress to fresh that he would of never knew. It was funny to us, and he started asking questions about Christianity. He grew up in a Jewish home, his parents are from Israel. He was shocked when we told him that we read the old testament.

The first name was called and it turned out to be 1 of my friends.

Middle school years were my least favorite years of school. The kids that I thought were my friends had become my biggest enemies. I will admit that in middle school I wasn’t the skinniest girl at the school. I had gained weight over the summer and was too oblivious to see it. Now that I am in high school I really wish that I wouldn’t have let those kids bother me so much.

My elementary and middle school years were excellent. I got good grades, on time to class everyday, never talked back to the teachers. I was the perfect student.

After high school I wouldn't want to go straight to college if I didn't necessarily have to. I would want to take a year to travel and see the world. Yes it might be better to just go straight to college after high school but who would want to do that when you could travel for a year. I believe after high school you should give yourself a gift and travel take a break from school. Even going to see the world and see different places and cultures, before reality hits you like a truck. Everyone should travel before their to busy with work, school, and or even families at the time. Its good to take time off.

It was a crisp fall day in Colorado at my middle school, Lincoln Elementary. The leaves were beginning to change and fall from the trees as it was finally September. I felt them crush under my feet while I traveled up and down the pavement. The school’s recent addition of a new basketball court was a dream come true. I could smell the perfectly marked lines that were freshly painted on the court. My best friend Ryan and I often practiced shooting hoops at recess as we were both starters on our school’s basketball team. On this particular day, we were preparing for our first home game which was the next day. We had such an intense game of one on one that I completely lost track of time and did not hear our teacher blow her whistle to call our class inside.