Year 10 Narrative

The familiar aroma of coffee fills the air as I enter the not so common area. I feel very bewildered in the labyrinth of hallways searching for my classroom just like I had stepped into corn maze as a child. At last, I locate the secluded room tucked away inside the massive building. Even though the number on the door matches the number on my schedule I am still second guessing if I am in the right place. The door opened up as students poured out. Finally, I took my seat at the back, trying my hardest to sit down unnoticed. My hands were shaking as I wrote the class name at the top of my paper. After what seemed like ages the professor proceeded to

It was the first day back at school for a new year. Many of us still longed to be on holiday, carefree and careless. It showed on our faces as we grumpily and wearily made our way along the corridors to our House Room. This year our form (11) had a new student. When we walked in we all just looked at him, scrutinizing, mentally noting anything unusual. There was something about him though, but I couldn't quite see it. Nobody interacted with him at first - the teachers were all around him, then he was set free, for us students to talk with him, I didn't talk to him myself, rather I just listened to the questions of others, which, he answered them faintly. They ask him questions to get him talking, to get him relaxed, but he simply answered

The five-minute warning bell goes off. I rush to my first class of my junior year, eager to see my classmates, who I was going to spend the rest of the 9 months with. I find myself stumbling into a classroom plastered with decorations of Denzel Washington with a Dr. Seuss book in his hand, a t and college flags galore. My AP English 11 class suddenly seemed so appealing to me. As a beautiful, curly haired short lady stood in front of me and said “Welcome to AP English 11,” I knew that I had found a treasure so much greater than just a pretty classroom. Little did I know, that short lady was going to inspire me throughout my challenge filled second-to-last year of high school.

The warm breeze blows past me as I open the door to the Sweetwater Middle School. Shouts and hoots of excitement about the New Year came from behind me as I speak amid my social circle. It was going to be a wonderful year with delightful students and teachers. By the end of the year I knew to have been mistaken to think it would work out for me.

All of the walls are plastered with student work of hand-cut construction paper snowflakes and stockings. In the mornings, excited students swarm the hallway as they look for their classroom and their teacher. Echoes of “good mornings” bounce around the hallway from student to teacher. But farther down the hallway, the older students are not as excited for the day while the bare walls match their expressionless faces. About halfway down this hallway is a wide staircase down leading to the fourth grade classrooms. It is rather quiet in this hallway because there is a distinct lack of

You enter the large set of double doors leading into the main hallway of yet another new school. Your mind drifts to your old school as you observe your own reflection in the glass insets of the entry doors inviting you into a new world. A world you’d rather not be a part of, not now. This is not a new experience. It’s one that keeps repeating itself over and over. Larson Junior High will make the second school you’ve attended in the short time of being a ninth grader, and a total of eight schools since beginning the first grade.

I remember walking through the heavy double doors; they felt like two hundred pound boulders in front of my wrists. I was entering a new territory, trying to figure out where I would fit in. It was something so commonplace but so foreign to me. The same school had been my home for a decade.

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

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.

I looked away to see all of the faces that everyone was making. Mostly shocked, but some scared. I saw a girl named Aria who just looked frightened. She was sitting alone. I felt the urge to get up and sit with her, until the bell rang. Everyone got up and pushed through each other to get to their lockers. I lost Aria through the complete chaos. I thought to myself, I’ve never actually spoken to her before, but I feel really bad for her.

It was a bleak, foggy day in September. Alexa took a deep breath as she cautiously trudged into her new school. The chatter of kids, who had known each other for years, echoed through the wide hallways. Endless rows of striking red lockers occupied every possible space Hordes of students crowded the halls like an army of ants. She could feel an abundance of eyes looking her up and down, wondering who this new freak was, wondering who was invading their tiny, close-knit school. It was horrendous enough that she was a freshman. It was even worse that she was new. She was fresh meat in a

As the August morning sun chased the shadows from the roofs of houses and painted the sky gold, once again there was an eerie silence at Horribly Hard Middle School. In the dawning light, you could not see into the classrooms because of the light-blocking curtains at every window. No early teacher rushed out of a car in the parking lot to set up a lab or to get an early start on preparation for the first day of school. Horribly Hard Middle School was like a spooky mansion: closed, dark, and abandoned.

I finally found the classroom after asking a few other students where to go. I smiled knowing that I would love French, but not knowing if I would love the teacher. Mrs.Groom was her name as it was put up on the promethean board for all to see. I let my eyes wander around the room to see if I knew anyone. My eyes landed upon my red-head friend Kristyn. As she talked with another girl I didn't know the name of, I found a seat closet to her without technically sitting on top of her. French class went by in a rush, I didn't speak much because, I was nervous. The knot in my stomach had seemed to grow larger and tighter as the day progressed. The bell rang dismissing us and most students jumped at the chance to get out, but I had to stop pull out my schedule and look at it. I groaned inwardly as I saw that I had English I next. I picked up my stuff and walked out saying au reviour to Mrs.Groom. Due to the fact the English was not one of my stronger subjects, I wondered how I would do in it this year. Walking into the class, I take in the sights of the people sitting around the room. I noticed that I knew 9 people in this class. I smiled knowing that their were some people that I knew in here. I sat down in a seat wondering who my teacher was. I never bothered to look and see the name on the teacher on my schedule, but instead looked upon the board. Mrs.Goodwin was typed in black letter on the board. My thoughts immediately went to what her appearance was and what she sounded like. I was so deep into my own world I hadn't noticed that the door had been shut. I took in Mrs.Goodwin's appearance, she had dirty blonde hair that reached a little past her shoulders and her smile made her brown eyes pop. I smiles as she began to talk about expectations and what we would being doing/learning this year in her

“Evans Institution of Education is proud to be one of the founding integrated schools throughout the world! We are excited to announce that this is our 10 year anniversary of the human and visis alliance. We look forward to a year of fun, and most importantly learning! With that we hope you have a great first day of school and welcome to Evans Institution!” Repeated the speakers around the campus courtyard. Students trickled in the gateways as the beginning of the school year drew near. New students were easily spotted, their obvious gawking and terrified faces set them apart quickly. The returning students on the other hand only dreaded the start of school, shuffling in tiredly. A petite girl walked through the gates, holding a sketchbook

She took sir’s nod as a sign to leave and slowly walked through the school. Little lit empty schools used to scare her, now days she was used to it. Her fingers traced over the walls of the corridors plastered with work only parents could be proud of. She sniffled as her shoes tapped on the hard wood. Katelyn looked down at her feet with only her fingers to guide her through the dim light. Her hands traced over the doors of each classroom. Past her form room, past the headmistress’s office and nearly past the art studio. She stopped as her fingers dipped into the blood covering the door.