Personal Narrative: My Experience In The Middle School

Before the first grade, we moved around a few times before ending up here in Sylvania. As a child, both my parents worked full time jobs and I was always at after school day cares or at my grandparents houses, never really got to spend a lot of time with friends or was able to socialize with many people. So growing up most of my time was spent with my brother and I thought nothing of it. As I grew up I began to realize that I had become stuck in some bad habits. My brother and I weren't asked to help around the house much but when we were we never listened. But to my surprise there were no consequences for our disobedience. At the time I thought I had it good. Around the time I got too middle school I began to realize the problem. I began

I was never the type of kid to standout in school especially not in the hallway. I was never too tall, never too short, not too scrawny, but the one thing I like to do is make people laugh. Yet even though that was very fun and all I still leave my legacy behind, which as weird, as this sounds, I was the one kid teachers never took seriously, but for the most part I never got that bad of a grade, in middle school(except when it came to 7th grade language arts class).

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.

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.

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.

While growing up I only moved once from a quiet and tranquil apartment to a home near a train and friendly neighbors. The move wasn't that drastic due to me being young but I had to start school. School was very startling at first but as the days went on I became a bit more open. My family was a big help in that too because they talked to me about being myself and I shouldn't be shy when around strangers.

Middle school was quite a bit different from my younger life. I was moving to a different school, starting football, going from being very short to above average tall and learning that school was much harder now. Football was definitely taking over my life and would continue for the duration of my education at the middle school. I had broken my finger my first season in first grade and then again the second year. The first time hurt pretty bad but by the second time I had done it I continued to play with it taped tight to my other fingers. To fix the second break from the extra damage of using it so much the doctor decided to pop it. It only got worse from there so we went to a different doctor and they gave me a cast. Later we learned that

Middle school for me wasn’t that fun because the teachers seem boring. The reason I found it boring because all of my classes from 6th-8th weren’t all fun because I couldn’t listen to music.Sure I had my friends but the assignments were boring or as exciting.The only time I was excited for something was my 7th grade field trip because it was a day without school, we to Medieval Times, we ate, watch a show and not do work for the whole day.I guess my 8th grade field trip but it was at the end of the school year.the last three days of

Week One: This week was an interesting week. I was at my church working and it was about that time for our yearly fire inspection coming up soon. So we were getting all of our building fire alarms panels renewed, and we had this one young guy name Adam Shabli from Cintas who came to look at our building. As the conversation continues we started just to talk about life and he asked me and the campus pastor if we were the pastors here at church. We replied saying yes and he had a shocked look. He said that we dress to fresh that he would of never knew. It was funny to us, and he started asking questions about Christianity. He grew up in a Jewish home, his parents are from Israel. He was shocked when we told him that we read the old testament.

My middle school experience was nothing short of the typical cringe-worthy school pictures, embarrassing fashion ensembles, feisty friendship fallouts, and awkward bodily changes. I nonetheless made the most of my three years in the “big kid wing” of Owensville Community School.

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

Growing up, there are always those few girls in elementary, middle, and high school that are just cruel. They roam the halls picking on other people, making them feel bad because they have nothing better to do with their life. Middle school was when I first experienced the harsh and painful words of those mean girls. While in middle school their words didn’t affect me much, it may have made me think about my appearance every once in a while; but their words didn’t affect me as much as it affected my friend, my suicidal friend.

As I walked in in the first day of middle school I was looking where to get