Personal Narrative: Middle 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?

The bell signalling the end of second period hadn’t sounded, yet. Or maybe it had.maybe she missed it amidst the screams. She wondered if it was all over, perhaps somewhere in a distant corner of the school, students and teachers rejoiced and hugged each other knowing there was nothing left to fear. No matter how quite it was outside fear still rushed through her body, mentally and physically. She knew she couldn’t get up. Fear had paralysed her. She had fled the library and fled her way through the southern hallway when it began. The hall was infused with kinetic horror. An aimless frenzy of kids and adults bound in a reckless pack of mass confusion, like and ant hill being washed away with a hose. No new knew what to do. They just ran. Lisa couldn’t run. The fear had taken ahold of her and would allow her to move any faster than a sloth in a waking

He laid there, staring at the tv playing the news. It was about the shooting. I rushed to turn it off, blocking his view. He blinked at me, then smiled. “Hey, buddy.” I smiled back, crawling next to him and hugging him. Some happy tears stained our shirts as I held him. We laid there for a long time in just pure silence. Our minds were saying the unspoken words. “Why did it happen?” Travis said into the air. “It happened because--” I stopped short. Why did it happen? Travis stared up at me, waiting for my answer. “I-I don’t know.” my brow furrowed in confusion as I pondered. Silence overcame us again. Eventually, soft snores came from Travis. He had fallen asleep. I stared at the wall, still unable to sleep. A woman somewhere screamed for unknown reasons. That scream triggered a flashback in my

When I hear the word “survival”, I think of someone who has made it through the impossible or conquered a near death experience; but that isn't all that it means. According to the the Merriam Webster dictionary, “A survivor is a person who copes well with difficulties in their life.” Moving from elementary school to middle school taught me many new characteristics such as how to be more independent, responsible, and more open to changes.

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 went to three different middle schools. The first middle school I went to was Baldwin Arts and Academics Magnet. This was probably the best middle school out of the three. I had the most and best friends. They were all different, and they loved and understood me. The two things I hated about Baldwin were the stairs and the miles our P.E. Coach would make us run. The teachers were sweet for the most part, and even though I didn't do well because I wasn't accustomed to magnet school, they helped me as much as they could. The transition from public school to magnet school proved too tough for me, so I had to go to another 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

After three long activity filled years, eighth grade is finally drawing to a close. My middle school years are soon to be over and high school is just around the corner. It will be an exciting time and full of new adventures. When I look back at my middle school years one of the most memorable things has been the F.A.P trips. The Field Activity Program has enabled me to participate in many opportunities I would have not had otherwise. In sixth grade we went to swim with the manatees. It was an amazing trip since we were permitted to get into the water and touch them if they approached us. This was an amazing experience because manatees are a protected species, and this is something you can not go out and do

One of the hardest and most influential days of my life was when I started middle school. It was my first time switching schools in six years and I wasn’t sure I was ready to. Some of my friends had known me for those six years and some even more. I had all sorts of questions running through my head on the day of the orientation. Like, what if I don’t fit in or what if I get lost on my first day? All of these questions disappeared when I stepped into what would soon be my new school.

Middle school was just the beginning for me. When I came into the middle school, I thought I wasn’t going to survive but later on I realized it wasn’t terrible at all. I've made some great memories and the best one’s were here. Fifth grade was the start for me, sixth and seventh grade shaped my personality, and eighth grade made me come into contact with myself.

The buzzing of the bell echoed in the crowded hallway. It echoed even louder in my ears. The sound of footsteps followed as the high school students rushed to their classes. On my own, I stood there with my textbook in my hands as I skimmed through paragraphs one after another. I tried to soak up as much information as I could but I knew better that it was all in vain. It was hard to concentrate with my heart pounding loudly in my chest. “I’m going to fail” I told myself as cold beads of sweat formed on my forehead. Nevertheless, I kept trying to make sense out of these scrambled words in front of me. Midway my mind began to drift. I could almost see myself in my room last night, lying on my comfy warm bed with the phone in my hand. I remember

“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.” I lay on my bed, eyes wide open before the alarm clock even rang. Today was the day. Already dressed in swim shorts from the night before, I nervously rushed to Neil’s house. After all of our friends gathered up, Neil’s mom drove us to a nearby park to “play football.” A sudden rush of shivers traveled through my body as soon as I saw Neil’s mom leave. I opened my water bottle and chugged to try to wash down the guilt in my mouth,

“Danny. Danny!” My teacher yelled. I woke up confused while everybody is staring at me like hawks. I explained that I was day dreaming but she wasn’t listening, so I told myself “Only 10 more minutes.” Beep! The class rose and bolted out the classroom door. The halls looked like a giant pack of buffalo herding down the halls, when I was walking I saw my friends exit the main doors.