Spelling Bee Descriptive Essay

Traveling is one of my family’s favorite things to do. The family has visited numerous places throughout the United States, however, none are as memorable as Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, there are many places to go and sights to see such as: Cola-cola factory, Cabbage Patch Kids Factory, Under Ground Mall, the Zoo, Atlanta Braves Stadium, Six Flags Over Georgia, Stone Mountain Park, and the Atlanta Aquarium, are all in or near the city of Atlanta. The three that we visit on every trip to Atlanta are Six Flags, Stone Mountain, and the Atlanta Aquarium.

Traveling is one of my family’s favorite things to do. The family has visited numerous places throughout the United States, however, none are as memorable as Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, there are many places to go and sights to see such as: Cola-cola factory, Cabbage Patch Kids Factory, Under Ground Mall, the Zoo, Atlanta Braves Stadium, Six Flags Over Georgia, Stone Mountain Park, and the Atlanta Aquarium, are all in or near the city of Atlanta. The three that we visit on every trip to Atlanta are Six Flags, Stone Mountain, and the Atlanta Aquarium.

My pageant was on June 3-5, 2016. I remember practicing the endless interview questions and my personal introduction every free moment I had. I wanted to be one-hundred percent prepared for anything the judges asked me. The weekend finally arrived. I had all my shoes, suits, and dresses packed and loaded in my mom’s Tahoe. The three-hour journey to Baton Rouge felt like a lifetime. My nerves were fizzing over the edge like a soda can that had been shaken up and opened. Like any other girl competing, I wanted to win. I wanted the opportunity to represent the state of Louisiana at the national pageant.

Awaking from my daze to peer out the large, sweeping windows of the tour bus. Speeding past me is the Normandy countryside located on France's northern coast. After driving for an hour, we appear to be slowing down. The tour guide, Gilles, speaks over the intercom in his accented English describing the medieval structures of the town we are approaching. From a distance it appears to be a tourist haunt. Honfleur is a beautiful town that is different from anywhere else in the world.

More than many other types of essays, descriptive essays strive to create a deeply involved and vivid experience for the reader. Great descriptive essays achieve this affect not through facts and statistics but by using detailed observations and descriptions.

“Wyandotte High School,” Mrs. Marilyn said. We were next. My anxiety screaming “you have to get up and do stuff or you’ll fail in life.” I got up from my seat and headed to the stage. My heart was racing loudly that I was afraid that everyone would hear it. My hands dripped with sweat. I kept taking deep breaths to calm myself. I felt the spotlight following my every move.

It is mine. The golden sun that shines and kisses the tops of my shoulders. The wisps of white clouds traveling within a baby blue sky. The gentle breeze that coils itself around my arms providing relief from the warming sun. The sapphire sea and its serene waves rolling gently out to shore onto the finely grained sand. It is all mine.

As I stepped into school next morning, I felt sweat accumulating on my palms; felt my heart beating rapidly; felt the anxiousness developing in my soul. Walking speedily to the door of the theater, I yearned for this brittle, edgy sensation to terminate. One instance, I felt hopeful - “Of course I made it.” The other, I felt hopeless - “I performed horribly. I am not getting in.” Slowly I approached the theater

As I approached the school, bad thoughts and memories flooded my brain. The walk from the parking lot to the doors of the cafeteria was the last time I had the chance to possibly think of an escape plan. I quietly spoke to myself the strategy I could use to get out of here, “Maybe I should just make a run for it to the right of the school, get to the sharp, rusted barb wire fence, quickly crawl my skinny ass over and run free through the massive field that would be upon me.” But I’m no troublemaker so I walked inside the doors of the school. The thick cold air sliced through my clothes hitting my bare skin. It felt as if sharp tiny icebergs were stabbing through me. I thought that since it was still so hot outside that maybe I didn’t need a big sweatshirt obviously unaware of the Alaskan air conditioning Dutchtown high school used heartlessly.

Ding! Dong! I grabbed my backpack and my violin head out the door. "Dang it! for minutes to put this away and got to homeroom," I thought. I scrambled down the stairs, skipping a couple steps and ran fast. Faster than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest. The bell seemed to yell at me like my mother would. The wind was so strong that it nearly took me off my feet. Running through the irony gate with its creaking sound, seeming to laugh at me. But, I did manage to get in. Three minutes left. I ran like a runaway train while seeing the cream colored walls of the school running with me. As I opened Mrs. Price's door, I bumped into an old friend. She started talking all of what happened so far in her first year, it felt like hours ticking

After an eternity of waiting for the students to hand in there work sheets, the bell finally rings, signalling the end of class. I had stood in front of my drowsy, sluggish, class for what seemed like eternity, lecturing about conspiracies, and urging the clock to resort back to normal speed. At last, the children had finished filling out of the hot musty classroom, and I was free to go out for some fresh air. I drag my feet to the doorway when a piece of paper flutters to the ground. I pick it up to put back in my pocket, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to glance at the writing. As I read it, I collapse onto the ground.

Through someone’s aspect, it could be considered as the most efficient communicating tool of human being. On the other hand, some people may treat it as an irreplaceable expression of their emotion. Objectively speaking, “words” could definitely be concluded in both ways above, but in my opinion, using words is a privilege and honor. I use words to gain knowledge and words give me all kinds of possibilities of understanding new stuff when I intend to enhance my personal abilities.

There he was, walking into my fourth period class with a smirk on his face, and an outfit that screamed that he was cowboy. I, for one was not the type of girl to fall head over heels for a guy, but something about him stood out from the rest of the male population of the school. He seemed like the respectable type one could take home to their parents without them disapproving. His looks took hold of me and held me as if the image of his visage could never be erased from my mind. Never have I seen a more perfect person in my entire existence.

Flying through the air the change of season from summer to fall can be felt with the cool breeze that hit my face, the wood chips from the playground dig into my knees as I achieve my farthest jump from the swing set yet. As I get up and dust the left-over wood off my pants I see my parents walking toward me with Mrs. Read behind them. They approach me with kind smiles, but worried eyes. I see my last spelling test in Mrs. Read’s hand and as usual I see all the red pen marks on it as well. Of course, it is common for a third grader to make spelling errors but not to my extent. I thought this parent teacher conference was going to end just like all the rest with me apologizing and saying I will try harder next time, but no today was different; as they all start explaining to me that I am going to be given a few tests over the next couple of days. But as soon as I heard tests. What did I do? Worry. Because I hated English and I was pretty sure English hated me.

I remember entering the large but seemingly lifeless cafeteria. The lunch room was full of other high schoolers. I felt as if the lunch room was empty and I was alone. Just the recognition of not one person there deals the lonely card. Nobody recognized me. Not even one person, I looked left, I looked right, I looked down at my lunch. I pretend to check my phone for the notification that wasn’t there. I was the new guy, again. Starting from scratch is tough, but when it happens twice in two years, it seems borderline impossible to fit in.