Kaneland High School Narrative

During my elementary school time, I had learned that this world is full of competition and you have to act out in order to stand a chance. I was quite intelligent in my classes, especially on the subject of mathematics. While I thought nothing of it,as I was bullied for that reason, my teachers saw it differently. Then, during the 4th grade, my teacher, Mr.Green, had asked me if I would like to join the school’s math field day team. At first, I wasn’t so sure, but after a few days, I was now a part of my school’s math field day team, along my twin brother, Anthony. That was a decision never regretted in my life, as it showed me that I wasn’t alone, that their were others like me, and able to make friends within my team, which in turn taught the truth of this world.

In 7th grade, I transferred from Bryan Middle school to Visitation Catholic School and there was not enough room in the accelerated math program, which ultimately set me behind. In high school, I found myself bored in math and knew I needed to challenge myself, so I ended up setting up a meeting with the math department head and we discussed my options. Sophomore year, I ended up taking two math classes, which was not easy; double the test, quizzes and lessons! However, by taking two math classes, I was able to get myself into a higher math class which ultimately was my goal, and achieving it was an amazing feeling.

I was lost. Friends were not at my disposal. Time was in abundance. Thoughts was all i had. Freshman through Christmas break of my sophomore year I attended Berks Catholic High School, but before that I graduated from a feeder school named Scared Heart School. This school had diversity, respect, and a place for all students from kindergarten to eighth grade. After graduation all local feeder schools merged into the high school, Berks Catholic. This was a place to start over or grow into the person you desire to become and to make friends. I was so overwhelmed and could not have been more happy in life once I arrived, but it took less then a school year for me to realize I was unhappy. I was denied from starting my own club to help less fortunate kids in my area, my

They say that high school is not necessarily the best four years of your life, and I agree. However, I believe that it is a place for unique growth and development–both of which are factors in finding the best in ourselves. With all of this said, I can say that entering Miriam College High School has definitely and ultimately transformed me to become the intellectually and spiritually focused woman I am today.

February sixth was the day of my last middle school game. We were playing our rivals , Ledford middle school. The first time we played them we only lost by two points.

As a child, high school seemed like a place that was miles away. Everything about it- with the exception of the graffitied bathroom stalls-lit up my eyes with the dream that I would one day be walking down its halls as a student. Although high school felt so far away, Montville High School itself was no stranger to me. When I was younger, my mom tortured me by sending me to the Chinese program held there every Sunday. I also used the school’s athletic facilities from joining the recreation track program, which I stopped going to after two weeks from discovering my antipathy for physical activity. From all of this, I quickly became familiar with what others would think as the overwhelming layout of the school. For some reason, I had always felt

On Wednesday, February 1, 2017, Chino Hills High School was out of power, resulting all the students got released early. I walked into the school campus about to sit at the normal table that I wait at. I usually get to school thirty minutes early because of traffic. I did notice something was off when I sat down. The area where I sat was a bit darker than usual. Before the bell rings, I would talk to my boyfriend at the time. Then we would head to class. Something was weird from the beginning. We had the same class together but different teachers. My economics teacher arrived a few minutes after the bell had rung. I walked into the classroom. He held the door open. It was dark, but I thought the teacher was going to turn on the lights after

When it comes to sports my family has many ties to Middletown High School South. In the Going as far back as the 1980’s when my Dad attended the same high school. He was a standout wrestler for the team and was given multiple scholarships to wrestle in college. My family name is everywhere within the trophy rooms and walls of Middletown South. I am the youngest of three children with two older sisters coming through high school before me. Both of my sisters were outstanding runners for Middletown South and are now running on collegiate levels. Then there is me following in my dad 's footsteps, trying to leave my mark in Middletown South 's wrestling history.

One freezing February Saturday, I needed wake up at six in the morning to go play in a volleyball tournament. The rest of my family was in Arizona and had left me in Iowa Falls, so I wouldn 't miss my finishing tournament of the season. I wasn 't jubilant about it, but I agreed anyway.

After we stopped drawing, we acquired our items and got up to line up to go to our original classrooms. It's a shame. I had so much fun drawing instead of learning math. But, the day must end. And I liked it! We headed back to our classrooms to get our backpacks to get packed up for the end of the

Breath was rushing out the kid who wore a Gray and blue uniform, the boy 's hair was black and poked straight up in twisted curls, he had brown eyes that looked like dirt, he was strong and athletic, his name was D’haquille Jones, and I was DhaQuille Jones, staring down at the newly glazed floorboards of John Pickett high school gym. The ref blew the whistle signaling that our time out was over, and all we had was thirteen precious seconds to beat the Valencia high. I jogged onto the court, adrenaline rushing through my body. The ref tossed the ball towards Chris, once he had found the open man he lobbed it over the oncoming defender. Calling for the ball I sprinted around my defender to get open. I Felt the sticky grip of the ball in my hand thinking of it as if I was holding the entire game. I ignored the fans screaming my name and cheering me on. My feet pounded the floor one by one as the ball bounced up and down on the court, with only five seconds I found my lane and took it. Their was the clock taunting me, four,

All my 8th grade classmates and I sit on the cafeteria floor at Daniel Wright Middle School, giggling and staring at the gigantic screen. A slideshow plays. Often mortifying pictures of our younger selves appear with our names. I recollect all the vivid memories from middle school and earlier, like when my 5th grade teacher accidentally threw a snowball at one of my classmates. My friends and I sit together, hollering when we see each other on the screen. The end of our middle school days.

I entered Bishop Connolly High School in fear. I thought I would be drowned by homework, and I thought that I would find difficulty in finding friends. Those notions were not true. But aside from my fears for high school, I had an aspiration to become to closer to God. My family is religious, and I intend to carry the tradition to going to Church every Sunday and every Holy Day of Obligation, but there is more beyond going to Church. As children of God, we are given a purpose to serve for and protect His creation. God created this beautiful world, and it is our job to maintain it and those who inhabit it. We are sent to spread the word of God, and to protect the Church and the Catholic faith. I hoped that I could carry out my mission by going

Stumble. Survive. Create a new generation. The cycle of striving for perfection and purpose reveals itself to those who contribute to the heirs of the human condition, children, and I was one of them, quivering with a hand on my shoulder advising me on when to draw and how to breathe. As I cautiously signed my name to the organization which, unbeknownst to my seventh-grade self, would become my young legacy, my self-definition, I didn 't think about the many friends—rather, and pardon my cliché, family—that I would make. When tryouts for the school 's first year of having an archery team arrived, I, nervous and irresolute as ever, took from my coach for the first time the bow that would be my counselor and companion for years thereafter.

I remember my first day at Northeast Prep I was a sophomore in high school. The teacher called the attendance; she came across my name and said “Dik-ia”. The students all of a sudden commence into laughter. Although I figured she was talking about me, I did not respond considering I was not for sure whom she was talking about until she said my last name. I corrected her even though I was somewhat self-conscious, yet she did not mean any harm. Subsequently that day they the students made fun of my name and continually call me Dik-ia. I honestly dislike when peers say my name wrong, it has five letters and two syllables (De-kia) it is not difficult to say.