Personal Narrative: Middle 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

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.

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.

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.

It was a normal school day at Brookhurst Jr. High in 7th Period were my friends and I were talking and waiting for the bell to ring so we could all go home and the school day would be over. Before I left I needed to go to the bike racks to get my skateboard so I could ride it home.

Change scared me. Coming to HMS for the first time as a 7th grader terrified me. As the summer came to an end, I worried about getting around the school, meeting new people, and the change in my sleeping habits and schedule. Thoughts rushed through my head about going to the Middle School for the first time. The first day of seventh grade came quick and I was ready to start a new year. My dad drove me to the front of the school and I exited the car saying good bye. I was unsure where any of my classrooms were and I only recognized a few people in my homeroom. The Middle School was far larger then I remember from the tour that ARIS provided. I wasn’t use to no recess, and the formation of the lunch lines. Going into seventh grade, I was clueless

Middle school was the worst three years of my life. From getting bullied to getting suspended each year of middle school, I learned that it’s not that pleasing and not that great. I honestly would say that I strongly dislike it and would never go back and do it over again because it was boring as can be, too much bullying, and getting suspended. I have learned my lessons and thought about what I've done.

There's ups and there's downs, twists and turns lessons to be learned. A lost young boy trying to get through day by in a world that seemed a little bit too unfair. In middle school i didn't understand, i had no care in the world i thought I was invincible, no worries, no problem. I took my reality and turned into a dream to deal with the nightmares that haunted me at night. I just needed a second chance, i needed an awakening. Looking back on it now i wish i never taken the chances i had and opportunities granted.

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.

At twelve-years-old, starting Junior High was struggle for me. It wasn’t because anyone was bullying me or because my friends left me and I was surrounded with drama, it was actually personal inflictions. Junior High was stressful, the natural fear of not being accepted at me, a few months before my dear friend Ruby moved from Clovis to San Francisco. It was all just a lot, and in sixth grade I felt a little… betrayed by my long time guy friend. It hurt to know we’d never be friends again, no matter how hard I wanted to start over. That, and just being a normal teenage girl, I was often feeling misunderstood and under deep pressure from my family. It was a very depressing few years and there were even times when I became jealous and hateful and I

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.

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.

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

Elementary school is hard. Mrs. Valerie, my first grade teacher, gave us a math worksheet, and it was easy up until I got to the back side. There were four long word problems! What does she think this is: middle school? Only I said it in my head. If she heard that, I would have gone straight to the principal’s office. I started the first one. I read all the words swiftly until I got to a word that I had never seen before in my life. It was only four letters: A-L-S-O. It looked like a whole different language. “When you come across a word you do not know, sound it out,” my mom would always say to me. I started to sound it out. “A-L-O-S,” but it was wrong. “A-L-Y-S-A-W,” I tried again, but it was still wrong. I did this over and over again thinking I was never going to get it. At the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Valerie walking around. Oh no, she is going to think I cannot pronounce simple English words. I pretended like I was hard at work on another problem until she walked past me. Now I just had to figure out what the word meant before she came around again. I tried everything that I could possibly think of. I tried to sound out each letter, and I