Teens-Personal Narrative

I woke up in hot sweat, well, not a hot sweat exactly, but it felt like my body was melting and my head felt quite foggy. I didn't really pay attention to much that was different about my surroundings until I heard a faint, yet gentle voice approach me from across the hall. It sounded like Phoebe but different. The voice sounded older and less pure, so it couldn't be Phoebe. Everything just felt different. I noticed the clothes I was wearing were drab. If I was at Pencey I would be shamed by the entire class for showing up in these clothes. Making the connection I realised I was in quite a small room with not much to it. There was a desk which held a mountain of papers. There was an old rickety chair, and a small dresser. Other than that

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.

Ten forty-six, on a late Saturday night. Instead of sleeping I was once again reading and editing my Teen Advisory Council (TAC) application for the Ronald McDonald House of Southern New Jersey. I still remember to this day how nervous I was; the application, the interview, and the phone calls. However, as I further refined each and every component, my nervousness slowly transformed into confidence. Next thing I knew I was sitting there with fifty other individuals, listening to the executive council’s strategy on how we were all going to help improve the council. It was at that point that I knew becoming a part of the TAC would provide the opportunity to help those in need while building my understanding on how such organizations achieve their goals.

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.

There's ups and there's downs, twists and turns lessons to be learned. A lost young boy trying to get through day by in a world that seemed a little bit too unfair. In middle school i didn't understand, i had no care in the world i thought I was invincible, no worries, no problem. I took my reality and turned into a dream to deal with the nightmares that haunted me at night. I just needed a second chance, i needed an awakening. Looking back on it now i wish i never taken the chances i had and opportunities granted.

Sweat saturated every crease and contour of my hands as I neared the front of the lunch line. Inch by solemn inch, I crept closer—anxiety overwhelming me. What will they think of me? Will they laugh at me? Before I could muse their possible perceptions, I found myself at the end of the line.

“There’s nothing wrong with you” she touched Luci’s forehead, “you’re fine, now hurry up you don’t want to be late on your first day.”

Oh, the fabled teenaged years: the time notoriously associated with rebellion, drama, and budding sexuality, yet also so strangely entangled with promotion of personal growth and maturation. It is this time in my life which I find myself in the midst. But I don’t exactly qualify myself as a stereotypical “teen”-- not because I haven’t engaged in many of the behaviors associated with the American adolescent- but rather, because I do things like this (write about the ways in which I can compare my own experience in adolescence with the those of my peers both in real life and in the media).

"I won't," I groaned and after I was dressed I ran my fingers through my hair and raced down the stairs into the kitchen.

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.

“Don’t stay out too late, and be careful!” my mom called over her shoulder from where she stood in front of the kitchen sink.

My arms trembled like never before as I struggled to lower myself to complete the competition’s required pushup. As my nose neared the ground, I said a quick prayer; Please don’t collapse. I clenched my teeth as I rose from the stage floor. The audience cheered way too loudly for someone who had only done a single mediocre pushup. I jumped up with a mixture of glee and embarrassment. I had survived this critical moment in the Miss Illinois’ Outstanding Teen competition, but it wasn’t over.

Chapter 15 and 16 made me relive and analyze adolescent years. In some areas, I hit the nail on the head, but in other areas it was a miss. I was what Piaget call a logical and hypothetical thinker. I was basically well round in my academics. But in the area of self-identity and self-esteem I was socially awkward. I did not reach identity achievement until adulthood. My self-esteem was low so I was easily influenced by my peers. However, I was never really a problem child, I just had a sassy mouth at time. A lot of people like to say if I only knew then what I know now, but I like the say going through what I did then made me who I am now!

“Gemma, look,” I said, immediately whirling around and pulling back the tapestry. “I opened The Red Book. It said do