Personal Narrative: And Then Came Middle School

“Stop being such a child!” A regular phrase that I heard when growing up through middle school. Whether they were kidding around or not, it really attacked me psychologically. As such, I was bullied for not being as mature as the other children around me. I really didn’t understand what the harm was with what I was doing. All that I simply did was continue to watch cartoons, draw, read comics, and other things that were apparently too kiddish to continue doing in middle school. It seemed in that time, people our age were pressured to act their age plus more. This left me alone most of the time, as I choose to do the opposite. I continued almost everything I did while I was in elementary school. Though the social knockback was tough, as being

In the school year of 2015-2016, I am a high school student now. I should be excited for this upcoming school. However, I felt nervous about this school year. I lay in my bed until my mom called me many times. After eating my wonderful breakfast, my mom and younger sister asked to get ready for school. I didn’t want to change my pajama. My dad called me from the downstair, “Iris, hurry up. It is time to school now.” I was unhappy to get out of my room. Even though I have been in the Memorial High School many times before this school year, I was afraid of being in my first day of school.

Starting middle school was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. There was a brand new campus to explore, but we were also nervously anticipating the academic program that was about to begin. Most of my grade had been together since the age of four and by this time there were clear social divides. There were the girls who were seen as popular, and then there was everybody else. You could say that I was part of the popular crowd, though at the time I didn’t notice myself standing apart from the others. As a group of friends we got on well, we’d hang out, go to the cinema, have sleepovers, all the usual things friends do. Then things gradually started to change.

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?

I was never the type of kid to standout in school especially not in the hallway. I was never too tall, never too short, not too scrawny, but the one thing I like to do is make people laugh. Yet even though that was very fun and all I still leave my legacy behind, which as weird, as this sounds, I was the one kid teachers never took seriously, but for the most part I never got that bad of a grade, in middle school(except when it came to 7th grade language arts class).

I remember when it was time to go from being a 12 year old 6th grader, to a 12 year old middle schooler with a lot more responsibilities than I was used to having. I had to make sure all my homework was done on time (It took me awhile to get the idea of no late homework hammered into my head), asked for help when I needed it the teacher wasn’t going to help as much as the elementary teachers would do unless I asked, with asking for help was a lot harder than I thought it would be everyone was confused too, after awhile the teacher finally got tired of running around the room jumping from student to student, marched up to the front of the class and wrote on the board of how to do a certain assignment.

Sweat saturated every crease and contour of my hands as I neared the front of the lunch line. Inch by solemn inch, I crept closer—anxiety overwhelming me. What will they think of me? Will they laugh at me? Before I could muse their possible perceptions, I found myself at the end of the line.

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.

For the most part, I have rarely experienced deindividuation, as I have never really done anything out of my character; however, there is one specific moment I can recall from middle school. If you had good grades at the time when your advisory teacher checked every monday, you were given a free pass to spend the rest of the weeks advisory periods playing games. I don’t think there was time when I didn’t have good grades, so I got to mess around every week during this time period. One day, my friends and I discovered one of the rooms wasn’t being watched by a teacher, so, of course, we started going to that room everyday. It didn’t take long for us to completely lose our normal morals around each other, due to the group anonymity and that we

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

When I was growing up, I never expected to be made fun of. I didn’t know that being overweight was going to be a problem. I lacked the courage to defend myself from bullies who often teased me. They laughed and even made jokes about me because I was out of shape and quiet. Being different was a tough experience for me in middle school and in elementary school since I didn’t know how to defend myself and even less, ask for help. Kids wouldn’t come up to me and ask me to play with them.Instead, I spent most of the time alone.

Where do I even begin I went through four years in the Middle School and now I am off to the High School for another four years. At first when u think about it and it is scary to think about going to High School but then at the same time it”s not even that bad. You're not that little kid anymore that’s in Middle School you are going to go to High School. You will always have those memories about your time her at the Middle School but now that we have hit a certain age it’s time to face reality and expect things from the high that we don’t get here at the Middle School. Now it’s time to talk about what’s most scary and most difficult at the High School.

All day, teachers had been acting weird. I caught on halfway through first hour, for we didn't even take the data point that was scheduled for today. The data point counted for half of my grade, and I actually studied for it. That was not the Mr. Grewert I knew.

Then came freshman year, my small group was dispersed amongst the local high schools with some heading to Mundelein and Stevenson, all I had with me was one friend who I, at the time thought to be a blessing, shared three classes with. It turned it that he was no longer the same friend I

As a young black girl in a predominantly white neighborhood and elementary school, I was content. When I entered middle school I was not accepted. The other black students didn’t understand why I had white friends. I became extremely depressed and anxious, thinking there was something wrong with me. In my core classes, I was not harassed, however, in my elective classes and lunch that was not the case. PE, band, and lunch were always a struggle for me. I could not get away from their constant and consistent taunting.