Personal Narrative: My Experience In High School

While dressing unfashionably, looking both uneasy and clueless, in a class with no more than twenty students, millions of questions suddenly appear in my chaotic head. Questions such as “what will happen to me?,” and “how can I understand this?” built up the doubt in me. However, who would have guessed that six years later, I would become a girl who has adopted a different vibe with more confidence and enthusiasm, which I thought would never be possible, six years ago.

My high school education has prepared me for my next steps after graduation. There has been people that have help me get prepared for the next step and some of the education has helped me for the next step. School has prepared me because I known the basic skills needed out in the real world. Like math has help me get prepared for the money troubles and English has helped my right a resume to get a better job.

This year, I’m going for the gold. Rather than sitting still waiting for opportunities to come to me, I came to the conclusion that to get the most out of my high school experience, I’d have to chase my dreams. Growing up as a first generation American, I’ve always felt as if I was the “monkey in the middle”, too African to be American, and too American to be African. There have been many times in my life in which I have been taunted and discriminated against for my heritage and at one point in my life, I was ashamed of who I was. All I saw on the television and in magazines were girls with skin lighter than mine and hair that was looser as well. It was a dark time for me and I would never want anyone to experience the things I went through.

In the time of my four years in high school I have been through a lot which has affected me academically. When I first started my sophomore year my family was in the middle of a custody battle for my nieces with my brother and his ex-wife. Through the time of fighting for custody an incident happened that ended with the kids getting taken from us and put into foster care. Those events affected me greatly because I was the one who raised my niece Casie from when she was born up until the custody issue. When the dispute was going on I couldn’t focus on any of my work as well with missing a lot of school, which was reflected in my grades. Recently to start my senior year I was sent to Boise Idaho because my grandfather had passed. During that

Whilst walking down the hallway, I recalled the substitute teacher from Ms. Johnson’s Homeroom. Staring at the board I proceeded to enter the classroom, get my folder, and complete the Do Now. Glancing towards the clock I noticed that it was 12:15 and the entire class was getting ready for lunch. As we were walking out of the door the intercom suddenly goes off Beep! This is an intruder drill. I immediately seized the red bag from the closet, handed it to the substitute.

I would consider myself to be a fiction fanatic. The majority of my high school experience was spent sitting behind textbooks studying the chemistry behind how Sulfur and Oxygen interact or learning about how the colonials overtook the British. So, naturally I turned to books as my emotional release from reality. Fiction transported me to a world where the impossible was possible and forced me to channel my inner creativity. I found that the information I learned in my textbooks would sometimes ironically connect with the stories I read during my free time. I was a logical intellect while at school, but a reader who loved to dream and challenge logic.

The yellow sunshine was beaming through the semi clean window to the off white wall, the crows were squawking singing their morning song. The recycled boxes were half packed and the room almost looked brand new, Aside from the fact that there were little blue tack stains all around the room from those old collectable space posters. There I was standing on a wooden stool barely able to reach the back of my wardrobe with my short arms. It was always a disadvantage for me tall guy that had long legs but extremely short arms it was sort of the reason why I was so embarrassed to join the high school basketball team back then. Who could imagine that today would be my last day standing here in this old house that my mum rented, going off the collage.

The honors and advanced placement courses I have taken throughout high have been my most challenging and the most enjoyable. My teachers motivated me to work harder which in turned helped me to achieve great things academically. Often my classes were smaller and taught in a more tutorial / discussion based rather than the traditional write memorialization style. I met and developed great friendships in all of my classes with other woman of color who placed high importance on obtaining a better than average academic experience in high school. If it were not for the support of my Spanish teacher last year, I would not have thought it was possible to spend seven weeks in Paraguay living with a host family who did not speak any English at all.

Students spend four years of their lives in high school. Four years to achieve as much as possible, four years to get good grades, four years to work your hardest for a college to say yes, four years to make a good impression. Some students, however, prioritize their time differently. they don’t understand or might forget over the years the value of those four years. choose to party and hang out with friends every night. Despite all the temptations, and with the help of my mother, I kept my eyes on the goal and used the time to my advantage.

This school year stated off a little shaky for me. On the first day, I went to the wrong classroom- twice. That was very discouraging. When I was lost and confused I realized that there were many people around who were able to help me. I knew that I had to put myself out there and ask for help when I needed it. Having a different schedule every day was different for me. It took a week or two to really get it down and understand how to get to my classes. Also, having all of this free time is really liberating. Some people think it is dangerous to have so much time on their hands. I, however, really enjoy it. It is very nice to have time to get all of my schoolwork done and still have time to socialize and meet new people. I feel like I’m finally starting to get a grasp on the college lifestyle.

In this story you will read about my irst year in the 6th grade and the problem I faced with bullies.

“Ew, I thought you said that the school still looked good! Not like some crippling mess!” I could hear one of my friends, Amber complained while the others grumbled in agreement. I let my thumbs trail up and down slowly rubbing against the steering wheel.

I chose this quote because it sums up a lesson I learned in high school. When I moved from Connecticut to Ohio after my freshman year, I had trouble transitioning to a new school and state. I struggled in school for the first time in my life. My grades were not what I had hoped or expected them to be during my first quarter sophomore year, and it was not easy for me to get over that. I worked harder than ever to get the grades I wanted, and my hard work paid off. The rest of my sophomore year was much better than the first quarter, but I wasn’t completely satisfied with the outcome of some of my classes. I continued to work hard during my junior year, and throughout that year, my grades were consistent with my hopes. They were the grades I

Once again, I sat on the classroom floor, frantically digging through binders, crumpled papers spilling out from my dirty backpack. Tears welled in my eyes as Mrs. Matthews peered over her desk. The homework she gave me, forgotten yet again; even better, there it sat on the kitchen table at home, the paper smudged from sincere effort. Every day of middle school provided a struggle. Without the ability to understand and complete the work provided, School left me disheartened, and made me feel as if my efforts were meaningless.

My ninth grade year was my most action filled year of my high school time. I came in the first day seeing these massive giants with full grown beards, then there was me fourteen years old and skinny. I walked into my first period, it was team sports and I saw these gigantic men and I thought to myself, I’m going to play team sports against these guys. I was going to have a broken bone or be dead by the end of the first sport. So we all got dressed and then we walked to the gym where we found Mrs. Watson. I remember her being so enthusiastic about sports and how we would play them. Since most of the time she favored the seniors we always had to play Dodgeball. By the end of the year I hated the sport so much I wanted to drop out of the class and never take it again, it seemed all we ever did was play Dodgeball because the seniors liked it so much. Academic wise my freshman year was terrible, I went from having a 3.9 GPA in middle school to a 2.8 GPA. I