Personal Narrative: My Life In Middle School

Since birth, I was raised a very devout Christian: I spent the school week, eight hours a day, attending a private Christian school from Prekindergarten through the 8th grade; I attended church services all day Sunday, and every Wednesday evening; I had to be skipped into the next age range of Sunday school on two occasions because my knowledge and questions regarding the Bible had gotten too advanced for the rest of the class; by the age of 12, I began doing mini-Sunday sermons before my pastor did his; by 13, I was baptized and began speaking in tongues; throughout the course of public high school, I was a member, and then leader of the Christian Club; I was nicknamed “Preacher Boy” by my fellow church members, with aspirations to become a

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

In November, the air is cool and burns my face. The wind passes through my nose and it feels as if I am breathing in a thousand miniature razors. My finger tips and ears are numb. My right side aches where I had been elbowed in the ribs and my ankle from where I tripped just up the field. I hear my mom in the crowd, “Go, baby, go!” Even though, every muscle in my body screams for me to stop, I go. The pain does not bother me, neither does the cold. I am just happy to be here.

Middle school was a very big transition for me. I went from a class of 20 people to a class of 35 people and one classroom to six classrooms! At first I was very anxious because I had been in class with the same people continuously for most of my school life, and now I would barely see those people. Over the past two years of my middle school experience, I have lost friends, made better friends, learned more, matured, and became more independent. Middle school has taught me how to be independent. I had learned that I could not rely on my teacher to remind me that I need to turn in my work, that I needed to figure out my problems myself, and that I needed to ask for help if I need it. I am very grateful that middle school has taught me all

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

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.

My story starts in Danville, Virginia on the 19th of December in the year of 1998. I am the 3rd born child. My mother had 6 children and I am in the middle. My first 7 years I lived in a very bad neighborhood in Danville. After that I moved to a middle class neighborhood. And following that neighborhood, I moved out into the county near Danville. There are many churches in Danville and about half of everyone attends church on Sunday, but regardless, a lot of people are not saved. They are numb to the scriptures and the preaching of the word. During the time I was in my second house, I was attending a church where they encouraged people to be saved and to participate in musical worship. After a while of not wanting to do that, I finally decided

Last week, I began my first initial year of middle school. I thought that my first day would be anything but challenging and stressful, But, it turns out that I was entirely wrong.

My parents quickly removed me from the public high school I was attending and placed me into a small Christian high school. My youth group leader’s wife, Mandy, was the math teacher, and she quickly became my mentor for the next two years. I had met with her several times before, but was never truly honest with her about my struggles and difficulties of understanding my relationship with God. As we began to meet, she challenged me to reflect and understand the temptation that I fell in to, but to also reflect on who I am in Christ and how to enter back into that