Personal Narrative: Lessons Learned In High School

After Phyllis claims her sweater, we go to lunch. All I could think about was how mad I was at Mrs. Price. When lunch ended, we went back to the classroom. I was so mad at Mrs. Price I had to say something. I stormed up to Mrs. Price’s desk and said, ‘’ How can you even remember me wearing the sweater when it’s not even mine?!” I went on and on until Mrs.Price stopped me. Mrs. Price said, “ Rachel! Come with me right now!” I knew that wasn’t a good sign. Mrs. Price and I walked for a while until they got to their destination… The principal’s office. All of the sudden, I felt even more sick than before. Once Mrs. Price and I walked in, there was no sign of the principal. Then the most embarrassing part of the day happened. Since there

After we got back to the classroom, Mrs. Price called me up to her desk. “Rachel, I cannot believe you started a food fight in the middle of the cafeteria!” she exclaims. I told her all about Phyllis and Sylvia’s plan to embarrass me, and what Phyllis had said about me.

We line up for lunch. Mrs. Price thinks thinks everything’s okay after I gave the sweater to Phyllis Lopez, which made me upset, so I yelled at Phyllis, “You ruined my birthday!” Phyllis ignored me, which made me furious, so I step on her foot. Then she did it back to me, and Mrs. Price sees that and we both get in trouble. Mrs. Price give us a warning, but I decided to calm down instead of breaking down again.

Walking to the middle school office unknowing of what was coming. Knowing I’ve done nothing wrong, knowing I hadn’t won anything, and ninety-nine percent sure I wasn’t forgetting a doctor or dentist appointment. Entering the office, now more confused when I realized my sister was standing in the middle of the grey dull office in front of me. “You got called to the office too?” she asked. “Yeah, do you know why we got called?” stating even more confused and concerned about why my sister and I were there. Before she could respond, Mr. Small, our school counselor, came out and requested us to follow him.

Then Ms. Peterson wandered toward me, at the very back of the classroom. “Look out man, she’s coming”, warning Thomas my best friend, he was sitting next to me prouder and happier than anyone in the class- he believes I could get an A+ for English, after reading out my narrative story. When Ms. Peterson finally arrived at my desk, she exclaimed with a smile, “Bravo Luke, Bravo. I never knew you were quiet the writer”, “Thanks Ms., I didn’t know either.” Ms. Peterson’s smile faded faster than you can say smile, her radiance disappeared when she peeked at my English book. “Luke, did you make up the whole story? You have only written ‘Once upon a time’, and your page is filled with drawings. Luke, you have a talent, you should make a story for the ‘Young Writers Award’, the entry close at the end of the term, I am very impressed with your narrative making skills”. With that, she finishes her lecturing, she quickly marched toward her desk then she frantically opened her drawers and was checking for something. “Bingo!” She stated, she raised her hand which held a colorful piece of paper. “While Ms. Peterson was at her desk, “Thomas declared “I told you that you’ll get and A+”, I answered him by saying no one said that I was getting an

I looked up to see the sub, Mrs. Brown, stomping over to the desk where the girl with a cheeky grin plastered across her face was sitting. The teacher stopped right in front of her and bent down until they were eye level. With every second her face grew a deeper shade of crimson. She began taking loud and slow breaths, trying to calm herself. “What is wrong with you,” the teacher spat, “how dare you interrupt my class. Who do you think you are?” The girl had a smile on her face that she was trying to suppress by biting her lip. She failed and she burst out laughing. “Get out,”

“What are you little bitches looking at?“ My teacher starts saying “Anna I will not toler-” “Oh shut up. You can’t seem to tolerate anything.” I reply. “Later losers, I decided I don’t feel up to learning from a dumb ass” I add. “Anna Seriously don’t act like this.” Alice says. “Well how would you like me to act then, since you’re just the boss of everybody.” “OMG!!!! Then just leave, I don’t flipping care what you do with yourself anymore” She yells at me. Just as I start to say something rude and profound back at her, the superintendent speaks through the microphone. “Anna, please come down to my office” “Later Alice” I

When we make it back into the classroom Mrs. Price says, “Everyone get out your homework ,so I can collect it.” I had been absent the day before and I didn’t know that

(What-a-burger has the best chicken tenders, and Chick-fi-la has the best chicken sandwiches, wouldn’t you agree?’ said Kamron. Not paying much attention to what he was saying, one half of my brain was thinking about all the things I could do after school, and the other half was listening to what Kamron was rambling about. “Maybe I should go to a friend’s house, or should I chill at home and play some games? I could also take a nap, too,” I happily thought to myself as the dismissal bell disrupted my thinking. “Beep! Beep! Beep!” All of the students in the class, including myself, stampeded out as if we all had imperative things that needed to be done. “See you later, Ezra,” said Kamron. “See ya,” I replied back. As I’m walking down the hallway on my way out of the building, a horrendous memory from the friday before the weekend came running back into my brain. It was from my grouchy principal, Mrs. Lewis. “You’ve been tardy in your math class this whole week, Ezra! So for that, I’m assigning you detention on monday! Oh, and you’d better be there too!” her grumpy ass told me told me in a draconian tone. “Looks like I have no choice,” I said out loud bothersomely. So I walked back upstairs to where detention was

Jonathan Byers was in the principal’s office for yelling at his English teacher because she was “Forcing me to do my work”. Ms.Beltran had just started her 1st period sophomore english class like usual, when Jonathan had walked in late with an obvious despicable temperament and attitude. She had noticed he wasn't working on the assignment she had given the class and decided to talk with him. She then approached him, and asked him, “Jonathan why are you not doing your work?” and he responded with “ i just do not feel like doing it Ms.Beltran.” Ms.Beltran did not take that well, and proceeded to try to get Jonathan to do his work, it was not the first time this has happened which resulted in him going to the office countless times.“Jonathan, all you have to do is read the article and answer the questions. What is so difficult about that?” Jonathan then stood up, as stated by some of his classmates, and began to shout at Ms.Beltran with curse words. “Do not tell me what do you stupid B***ch, it's my life you do not control me.” Ms.Beltran then grabbed her room phone and dialed for a monitor, who came fairly quickly. They took Jonathan

“She’s not coming. Get them, and anyone else in the halls, to their classroom and lock the door NOW.” As those words passed through Mrs. Tyndall’s lips, I felt myself panic. This wasn’t your usual “I forgot I had homework last night” panic, but the panic that makes you feel as if a gaping hole just opened up underneath your feet and you’re about to plummet into the unknown. At that moment, while I felt myself slipping from the edge, I looked around to see twenty-four pairs of eyes staring back at me. Looking into those eyes immediately closed the hole and shook me back to reality.

When I was 10, I first heard from a teacher about college and the need to do well in school. My fifth grade teacher briefly mentioned the idea, one that I was to become very familiar with over time, whilst annoyed at a group of boys who were acting out in the class. I constantly heard from middle school teachers about how they were “preparing me for high school” and how those teachers “were going to be a lot harder on [us].” I was told that my grades, even in middle school, would be vital to gaining entrance to any college. In early high school I was introduced to the idea of needing top grades and extracurricular activities to make one well rounded. Thus, my work ethic was established from a young age. At 10, I had no idea what I wanted to

I was never really known to get in trouble all that often except for the occasional scold for talking in class. I had never been sent to the principal’s office, though, which in my school, was probably the worst thing that could happen to you. I never thought I’d be in that much trouble that I’d get sent to the principal’s office, but I was wrong. My day already wasn’t off to a great start. We had these things called “table leaders”, which was basically one person each week was in charge of making sure everyone did their homework and just making sure everyone was on track. Well, my table leader, a kid named Brian didn’t particularly like me, and him being the class pet could get away with telling the teacher I didn’t do my homework and you’ll never guess what he did. He looked down at me, smiled, and- “Did everyone do their homework at this table?” My teacher, Mrs. Smith asked. “Yes. Everyone did their homework-”, Brian says and looks down at me, “Except Isabella.”, so obviously my

A new responsibility can be very terrifying. A new and terrifying responsibility that I had to experience in the past year—September 9, 2016, to be exact, I was walking to my mom's work after school. My mom said she could come pick me up at school, but I knew that would be an inconvenience to her. I also thought this would help me not to be so scared about staying home by myself, or having to go anywhere by myself. What I didn't realize was this was going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I got a 68% percent on a history test. My teachers, even some of the teachers that I favor dearly, look at me with their mean and vicious eyes. I try to greet them in the nicest and sweetest way as I can but never get the genuine reply I want. I go to some of my classmates to talk to them about my struggle until I realized I don’t have my go-to friend. That was my life 2015 was the year when I finally got into a prestigious private school called Collegiate School, having just transferred from a public school. The common wisdom that people had been that private school’s curriculum was more hectic and more difficult than that of a public school’s. It did not take long for me to notice that there was truth to that saying.