Teenage Narrative Essay

School was exactly how I had imagined it to be while I was in grade school. I had the privilege of having recess, early lunch hours, and most importantly, naptime! The day I started sixth grade, my whole world seem as if it flipped upside down. I was no longer at the top of the “food chain”, school was way more stressful, and I had, in fact, found new talents within myself.

Barry couldn't believe that it was morning already, he went to sleep at 1 a.m because he stayed up binge watching his favorite show.“Barry wake up, it's 7:30!” Diana yelled as she rushed into her son's room. “Mom! Why didn't you wake me up earlier?, it's the first day of school!” was what came out Barry’s mouth although he knew that it was his fault like always. Barry stared at his alarm clock, which was completely silent, no noise or numbers reflecting off the screen to let Barry know that it was time to get ready for his first day of middle school. The day brightened considerably, the shadows were stretching in the opposite direction from what Barry had seen yesterday in his first day in New York. His father, Daniel, and Diana rush into the car since it was Daniel’s first day as well, at his new job in the famous World Trade Center. "Ready for your big day today champ?”, Barry didn't answer because of the memories that rushed through his brain of all his friends, teachers, and his grandpa.

Ah, Junior High. Those awkward years between sixth and ninth grade when I had no earthly idea what to do with myself. I remember them well. I had to get used to being in a school that wasn’t an elementary school, the way older kids were acting, and how things were in my new school.

Middle school was the worst three years of my life. From getting bullied to getting suspended each year of middle school, I learned that it’s not that pleasing and not that great. I honestly would say that I strongly dislike it and would never go back and do it over again because it was boring as can be, too much bullying, and getting suspended. I have learned my lessons and thought about what I've done.

I was ten years old when middle school first began for me at the Dr. An Wang Middle School in Lowell, Massachusetts, and already, I was excited for a new school year with new people, new teachers, and new friends. Sadly though, I never could have expected what the real turn out for me at that school was, and in truth, it was harsh, and cruel bullying. Mostly, the beginning of the year was fine for me, and everything seemed pretty normal, but as kids became more comfortable in the new school, they also became meaner. One rainy morning in October, a group of eight or nine kids decided to play a game with me, and because I was the shortest, and the chubbiest, they thought it would be funny to lock me outside of the school in the pouring rain. I tried getting in, and banging on the windows, but nothing would ever happen.

I hurriedly got my uniform on and waited for my mom. “Mom I am going to be late,” I yelled. (hook)

Middle school was like the beginning to something amazing. New teachers, new friends, new sights to see, but it in my case not everything went as expected. I grew in a poverty stricken family with no academic background nor motivation. Private school to me was meant for the smart and the wealthy, so sadly I was already crafting the thought that I was not good enough yet would do whatever it took to get to high school. About 5th grade in 2006, a nun told us to draw something that represented who we were and what we liked. Drawing was a great deal for me, I absolutely loved to conjure up creative thins whether in drawing or in writing. However, the nun didn’t seem pleased by the small skulls I drew on my illustration and proceeded to crumple

HAROLD, is a flight instructor. He is in his mid fifties, and is too lackadaisical to be giving lessons. His hair is a frazzled mess. He looks as though he just rolled out of bed. He leans back in his seat wearing sunglasses, having not a care in the world.

I was enrolled in a band class in Rochelle middle school in the eighth grade. It was somewhat in the middle of the year when the elementary students came to visit and get a tour of our school for most of the day. The whole day I saw fifth graders walking up and down the hall with their teachers, peering into the classrooms. Naturally, I was excited to see the new kids exploring my middle school and wanted to impress them with my senior title, which I did. I conversed with some of the kids on my way to different classes and tried to ease them into the idea of going to school here. When the bell rung for band class, all of the band and drama students had to report to the auditorium to give the kids a performance. After all of the performances

“‘Um life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.’ I think that’s what the Forest said, I mean Gump, Forrest Gump, that’s what he said.” As I uttered the words, I knew I had embarrassed myself, along with the team, and I knew this was an experience I would never forget.

It was a crisp fall day in Colorado at my middle school, Lincoln Elementary. The leaves were beginning to change and fall from the trees as it was finally September. I felt them crush under my feet while I traveled up and down the pavement. The school’s recent addition of a new basketball court was a dream come true. I could smell the perfectly marked lines that were freshly painted on the court. My best friend Ryan and I often practiced shooting hoops at recess as we were both starters on our school’s basketball team. On this particular day, we were preparing for our first home game which was the next day. We had such an intense game of one on one that I completely lost track of time and did not hear our teacher blow her whistle to call our class inside.

I remember walking through the halls the first few days of middle school feeling the different vibes that the students were giving off. It was definitely not the positive energy I was used to, but instead a negative sensation. I felt like I was the only student trying to do what was right. I knew I did not belong in that school as soon as I heard a certain degrading comment from one of my classmates. The girls were constantly getting remarks made about them, but this one made me cringe a little more than usual. The comments never bothered the other girls as much, but they made me just want to cry. The teachers would never say anything to the boys and would let them get away with it. When students were not making derogatory comments, they were

There is an undeniable feeling of excitement you get when you know that every single person in the room has their eyes set on you, that they are waiting in anticipation to hear what you will say next. The first time I ever experienced performing in front of a crowd was when I was nine years old and had begged my mom to let me audition for our town’s production of Scrooge. That was the moment that first began my passion for the fine arts, and as I have grown older that passion has been cultivated and expanded further.

This has been my reality for 13 years. I have always been “that kid” who sat at the lunch table alone because I lacked friends.All the other kids boast about how great the school is and how enjoyable middle school is. However, I beg to differ. I have fallen behind in my academics, failing every single class I am enrolled in. I am even failing gym. Gym? Who fails gym is right? I don’t show up because it puts me in a position to be bullied. I often sit in the bathroom during that period thinking. I would always ask myself why. Why did I have to be the loner in the school? Why couldn’t my parent afford the clothes everyone else is wearing? Why couldn’t girls be attracted to me? This angered me; I was angry at the world. I even contemplated suicide

Sitting there listening, waiting and plotting. The judge, above seeing into everybody’s mind. The jurors seem confused and interested. Guest, nervous. The room was quiet and mysterious filled with secrets. She stands up and argues for hours, now the secrets come out. Everybody’s interested yet impatient. The trials over and she win/lose the case.