Personal Narrative: My Life In 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 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.

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

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.

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.

There is a picture on my fridge of my two best friends and me on the last day of Kindergarten, rosy red cheeks, smiles that could light up the night on our faces, the innocence of being five years old beaming from our bright eyes. An image that might outlast our friendship, but will forever be in my mind. All through Elementary school these two remained my best friends. Our little circle of friendship slowly grew as more people started to enter our lives for different reasons and we developed small friendships that threatened to pierce the bubble of our little trio. Nevertheless, our friendship didn’t falter. I believed this was the way friendship would always be: a tight-knit group who would alway be by each other's’ sides, through thick and thin. And then came middle school.

The first name was called and it turned out to be 1 of my friends.

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.

Middle school years were my least favorite years of school. The kids that I thought were my friends had become my biggest enemies. I will admit that in middle school I wasn’t the skinniest girl at the school. I had gained weight over the summer and was too oblivious to see it. Now that I am in high school I really wish that I wouldn’t have let those kids bother me so much.

I was at a Denny’s eating peanut butter pancakes when I decided what I wanted to do as a career. Basically my whole life in middle school was a galore of trips to museums and science centers that my parents put together. One specific time we went to the California Science Center where they house an old retired space shuttle used in the late 90’s and early 2000s, The Endeavor. When you enter this exhibit you see this vast piece of machinery that has been to space and then back on earth about 300 times. From then on, space was among my many interests that I had as a kid in middle school. It was such a life changing experience for me when that shuttle glistened in my eye.

Enter from the left, an undersized, awkwardly slow, roly poly. This is the visual I would use to best describe middle school me. At this peculiar point in my life I was really getting into paintball. One weekend over spring break, me and my friend Wesley go to the paint park. If there was ever a day to go to the paintball park, it was that weekend. The paint park was running a special and the place had more people than the ocean had anchovies. I mean it was like the scene from World War Z where the zombies are making giant mounds of zombie in order to scale the wall surrounding Jerusalem. The official count was thirty seven. It actually was a really bad paint park, I am pretty sure they didn’t even have a bathroom. I only went to it because

In my life, I’ve faced many challenges. However, one of the most significant challenges I’ve come across is the challenge of adjusting to and pushing through my first year of Middle School.

I entered this world on November 6th, 1994, as both the first and the last child of my parents. I grew up in a small private community, where many of the elderly came to hang up their bags and retire. Children were few and far in-between. I often spent time with my parents instead of others my age. I grew a strong bond with my parents, but my social ties never fully formed.