Personal Narrative: Moving To School

Coming to school every day as a tenth grader was exciting, but it can get very annoying at times. I had to overcome many challenges to make it this far. Generally, freshman year was a year of change. One of the greatest things I learned as I reached sophomore year, was not to procrastinate.

I really enjoy doing my homework and learning but, I hate going to school to learn and get my homework. I moved to Vermont after eighth grade because my father got to move higher up at work. I don't know a lot about his job but, I didn't have a say. Back at home in Mississippi I didn't have a lot of friends. I had one named Lucy but when I told her I was going to move she said we weren't friends anymore. I'm starting high school now and I'm so scared to start over again. I love my new room the view is very pretty but, tonight I hate it because tomorrow is my first day of school.

In the past year, a lot has changed for me. I lost a grandfather to cancer, then a month later an uncle to a gruesome semi accident. My grandmother on the other side of the family barely remembers me due to alzheimer's, and my mom lost her job but is now working over 1300 miles away in Florida. If someone would have asked me at the start of my Junior year what I expected to happen, I wouldn’t have listed any of those. As anticipated, it was not easy dealing with a downfall of events like that, but the way I was raised helped me cope with it all. I started out at a small private school, where Religion was just as important as Math and English. How we were to act was drilled into us, and after I switched to public school, there was a noticeable

I moved to the United States in 2003 to live with my mother who then resided in the country for five years. The thought of escaping the war in Monrovia was thrilling but I soon realized that my country’s war was not my only battle. After my arrival into America, I was faced with oncoming waves of challenges. The war had prevented me from attending school for two consecutive years. The knowledge I had was incomparable to that of my peers. My inability to speak English, along with the overwhelming burden of my native tongue made learning in a new American school difficult. I was a foreigner left to present my capabilities clearly through black lenses with no words spoken depicting that I came from a third-world country. I accepted these faults

Times were tough when I was 8 years old. However, it was at this time that my mum decided that it would be best for us to move out from our house and change my schools. An obnoxious bar just completed construction across the road and the presence of such homeless and corrupt men would only hinder my growth. That is what my single mum, that had to look after me and my two sisters, thought. But then again, who would think that living in downtown alleyways would be a promising idea for a single mum with three kids.

It is pretty cool that you had the same teacher for three years and that you liked her. It is nice to be reminded that there are teachers who care so much about their students and it is sweet that she wrote you letters over summer break. She is definitely a teacher that leaves a memorable impression on her students. It is too bad that college was a lot more difficult than you expected, but congratulations on deciding to go back and finish. I honestly do not know if I would be able to go back to school after stopping, however, maybe after discovering that I need an education in order to move up in my career then possibly my opinion would be different. I agree that this program is a lot of work, yet there is no doubt that it pays off.

The hum of fans, the spinning of the disk in its tray. Sitting on my soccer ball beanbag chair that I got for my 11th birthday with a controller in my hands. As a kid, in Washington state, on school days we were not allowed to play video games during the week. Summer was the break from school and the time for lots and I mean lots of video games.  Before I could hit that power button, I had to do something I despised, hated, and avoided like it was the plague. I… had… to… read.

After waiting eight extensive years in elementary school and middle school, I was finally going to go to a new high school. I felt extremely scared, it felt as if I actually had butterflies in my stomach. I was excited to go to the large new building but it almost looked too big.

Moved around year after year, from school-to-school, city-to-city, for 7 years straight. A different school, a different sense of feeling lost, and a different identity. Like Arnold from Sherman Alexie’s novel The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, I’ve dealt with having to choose who I wanted to be at each school. This experience makes me most like the narrator of the novel.

Being homeschooled until I entered the fifth grade, I probably wouldn’t keep the friends or the attitude I retain to this day. One quality you definitely would see if I didn’t transfer into public school is how shy I was. I wouldn’t have seen people the way I did, or acted around others the way I had. Had it not been for the journey of going from kindergarten to being homeschooled and finally to being in public school in the fifth grade, I would be someone completely different. I mean, my first day of school in kindergarten I stabbed another kid with a pencil for taking my lego block. But fifth grade became a whirlwind of new things, I didn’t even know about cliques at the time. When I got into public school is when I met Just-Ice (Justice) who has had that nickname since fifth grade. He and Leon were my only two friends back then. Leon and I underwent a falling out though and we stopped talking as much. But when sixth grade came around, I began to get to know Jesse and a good portion of my good friends today. Swapping school types again later on in life

At Quickstart before freshman year I had a panic attack before I even entered the building. I saw how big the school was and I became extremely nervous about starting school. There was so much pressure to make the next four years, the best four years. Also, none of my friends were attending Lane with me and I did not know how to make new friends. Upon entering the building on the first day I got lost a couple of times but I made a couple of friends and lasting impression on my teachers.

Getting to school at 7:15 am, an hour early, allowed me to sit on my desk, in the principal’s office, and get some reading done, outline my day, and finish up on work.  School started at 8:15 am end ended at 3:44 pm. After school, from 4 pm to 7 pm, I either worked at school, attended BridgeUP, or partook in an internship. Then came the arduous chunk of my day.  I would work from 8 pm to 12 am in multiple grocery and deli stores for my family.  Even though my parents weren't in dire need for money, the money I made was belonged to them and was used for petty things.  I did this every day of the week, but worked from 6am to 10 pm on Sundays, the devil's day.  This lifestyle was mentally and physically excruciating, it was not the cat’s meow,

As I walked to my room, I could feel tears stinging my eyes. I felt completely sick. How could they do this to me? I could hear them discussing downstairs about where they would enroll me, so I just put earbuds in, and listened to music.

From kindergarten to my senior year I’ve moved seven times, and have gone to five different schools. Some I only went to for one year and one I went to for seven years. Moving to new schools has made me not as shy and has helped me to learn how to make new friends. I’ve been friends with many people with many different personalities, such as outgoing, shy, awkward, and others.

In 2007, the United States Census Bureau found that the average 18-year-old in the U.S. would have only moved twice. Some might infer that my family moves excessively, as we have already moved ten times by the time I was fifteen years old. Each time that I moved, I abandoned my friends, teachers, and community. While I did not have a problem moving into a new house, I always had an issue with new schools. I found myself uneasy when I walked into a classroom as a new student. Classes are supposed to be a welcoming institution of learning. Instead, a frigid room with twenty-five unfamiliar staring faces greeted me.