Pre-Middle School Life

Middle school was a lot of fun for me, I met a lot of new people and lots of new girls. It was also kinda tough in the beginning with switching classes and things and having so many different teachers and lots of homework from different classes and having to remember the room numbers of each class but eventually I got used to everything.

It was early July in Southern California: the sun was high, the air was warm, and the palm trees were swaying. Unfortunately, the bright sun could not light the darkness of the pit I had been slowly falling into during my tumultuous school year at my new charter school. On that day, when the other girls were tanning beachside, I was sitting deskside. I was trapped in a tiny, moldy, yellow-carpeted education office at the school I had transferred to the year prior. Like my fading hope, the dusty chandelier was barely hanging on from the ceiling. The room’s peculiarity added to my anxiety, as I felt failure lingering in the musty air. Though I had been sheltered by my parents’ optimism, I knew what I would soon hear: “I am so sorry sweetheart,

Once again I found myself at the bottom of the food chain entering 5th grade. I had just moved back to Eureka as my mom realized she wanted to be closer to family, and I remember how scared I was. I came in the middle of the school year yet again, so there I sat in the library as I waited for my teacher to come grab me. I remember seeing familiar faces from the prior year pass by me on their way to first hour. I waited patiently, still no teacher had come to claim me for their homeroom. I realized I had been forgotten. What a great way to start off the new year... not. Finally a teacher came and got me and laughed about the fact that I was forgotten, which I failed to find as funny as she did but oh well. Looking around my homeroom I anticipated seeing all the same faces, quickly I noticed that there were A LOT of new faces,

Growing up in a city like Reading is not easy on any child, especially when you are the minority. This city is composed of 87,893 people, and of these people only twenty nine percent of them are Caucasian. Over half of the people living in our city are Hispanic, making up fifty nine percent of the population. Being part of the twenty nine percent can make a child feel different or left out while they are growing up. Children strive to make friends and to fit in with other kids their age. In my case it was not always the easiest because of a cultural barrier, or even a language barrier. Starting school is a scary for everyone, everyone fears the unknown. But when you enter school into a classroom full of people unlike yourself, is when the nerves really set in.

I am writing because I have some advice I would like to offer you based on my own experience. I’m writing this letter to help you get prepared for middle school and survive middle school. There are three ways you're going to survive middle school.

The Superintendent walked solemnly down the dimly lit hallway. The vast walls of lockers gave him an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, eating away at his soul like acid eating away metal. The psychologically effects transmitted to his outer body, causing him to halt to an abrupt stop. Standing like a deer in headlights, his mind was instantaneously flooded with brisk images of the once flourishing hallways. He stifled a faux smile, composed himself, and erratically walked into the main office, where he prepared to apologetically deliver the final afternoon announcement of the High School’s history. Alone¬¬––later in his office, another pang of dense, impenetrable darkness suffocated him and he let out a cry of resignation. He put his chapped

Finally entering middle school, In band we sat where ever. Christmas came and my first ever band concert, but our seating was already chosen for us that night without us knowing. There, walking towards the seat that have our names on it, with a smile on my face excited to play but my name was nowhere found in the front row. I went to the second row, nothing, and then the third where I found my name. I was last, the very last flute ensemble seat. As I sat, my throat become hard, my chest beating like it was angry, my face redder then red. I was not just angry but a word beyond furious, because I was last seat, it wasn’t fair, I remember practicing so hard and I didn’t even get to show what I got but then I was put last. Throughout middle school,

It is just like any other day for Cathy Hurley, principal of Wylie E. Groves High School. She sat at her desk, blindly clicking through several emails, her tortoise glasses resting lazily on the tip of her nose. The sun was hidden behind several thick, grey clouds; it looked like it would snow later. The thought of getting new tires for the upcoming weather briefly crossed her mind when there was a sudden knock at the door, making her jump. She briefly fixed her glasses and smoothed down her hair before calling “Come in!”

Growing up in a small town in Georgia, I thought that I was pretty ordinary. I had many friends who were of the same background as I was and life was fairly simple. That all changed when my family moved to Fort Walton Beach, Florida. I was just in middle school when I was given a cultural stereotype and judged by my new peers because of my southern accent. As a high schooler, I understand that it is best to be myself regardless of what others think but as a middle schooler this was mortifying. I was set apart from everyone else and considered the weird new southern kid. Many kids even believed my accent was somehow related to my intelligence and were surprised by me being in all the advanced classes.

It was 9:00 a.m. Arriving 30 minutes early gave me time to get to explore the building I would be spending the next year in. I breathed in the crisp, metallic smell of drywall and aluminum. The school felt new and so was I in a way. It had been over 10 years since I have been in a classroom. How different would it be? Did students still use pens and notebooks? Would I be able to immerse myself in this new digital-dependent society to succeed? Would I be aging myself speaking these fears aloud? There was only one way to find out if my uncertainties and trepidations were true. I grasped the cold handle on the door and stepped into my future.

64oz.AJ’s most regrettable moment was when he drank a 64oz cup of Coke in one sitting. AJ was with his family at the L.V. Coca Cola factory and one of the many products the held was 64 oz of pure unhealthiness. He reached for it and started drinking. He didn’t feel anything at first. But then he heard his stomach grumble. He was feeling so queasy and so sick that if there was one thing he could change in his past, it would be this.

It was the end of the summer of 2013 and I was about start my perilous journey through middle school. I was just a squeaky ten-year-old who was scared but felt ready for new surroundings. My extremely impressionable brain was sure middle school was everybody’s worst nightmare because that was what T.V. taught me. I was frightened but ready to take on a challenge.

Growing up in a single parent home was never the easiest. My dad decided not to be in my brother and I’s life when we were little. Leaving it up my mom to be a mom and a dad. She always told me I was not a statistic just because I didn’t have a male role model in my life. She instead said, you can do anything you put your mind to. At a young age I decided I wasn’t going to end up like my father. That is why I want to be an Elementary school teacher in the inner city. Elementary school is the time where kids really need someone to not only believe in them but also be there for them. I want to be that person. I want my future students to walk in my classroom and feel like it’s a safe place. Ole Miss is my safe place. Ever since I walked on

“I’ll be right there!” I said as I packed my belongings into my backpack. This is my third year in high school, and next year is my last, so I have to make these days count. As I walked towards the school entrance, leaves were blown into the air by the wind and the smell of oak wood trees filled my lungs. There were students everywhere enlightened to get to class; the sound of autumn leaves crackling when students stepped on them made a very satisfying sound to new. I could still taste the flavour of my peanut butter sandwich that I had this morning for breakfast; It was quite cold out, so I had my hands inside my pocket, gasping for warmness. “Hey Yama! I’m here, let's head to class now.” I said.

The bus pulled around the corner and squealed to a stop. I groaned. The first day of school. I stepped onto the bus, trudged to the back, and threw my backpack onto a seat. I moved here from Geraldton just last month, in August. My dad was given a new job, which is really good, but that meant we had to pack our bags and move to Brighton, which was on the other side of the country. New house, new neighborhood, new state, new school, I’m surprised my head hasn’t burst. And even worse, i 'm starting high school for the first time. I’m supposed to know all about the school and everything.