Everyone experiences rough patches in life. My rough patch occured when I moved to Michigan from Wisconsin in fifth grade, I became a victim of pre-judgement. Classmates bullied me because I supported the Wisconsin badgers and not the hometown spartans or wolverines. Making friends became difficult, I became known as the “new kid” and colleagues deliberately avoided me. Day after day, the distance between me and my peers only escalated, and school felt similar to solitary confinement.
Yet, I also felt excited and happy to be there, to be with other children and be at school. But, being an immigrant child at the time, I did not understand the culture. As my solution, I followed what my classmates did without any knowledge of whether it was right or wrong. Without even understanding what I did, I made many mistakes and got into a heap of
I had never thought that being accepted would actually happen, and I had a suspicion that the school was not real. A month later, I went to build furniture and receive a tour of the school. Just recently, I started getting into my routine of waking up early and having my week almost full of after-school activities. I find it strange and oddly renewing after going to bed at ten and waking up at nine every day. I don’t know what to expect at school this year, but I hope that it won’t have too much of an impact on me.
The lights in the cafeteria were turned off. Teachers and other faculty members were running in and around the cafeteria, talking on their walkie-talkies and handing out tissue boxes and water bottles to students. I opened the door to the cafeteria and sat down at one of the octagonal tables where I saw a couple of my friends were sitting. Besides the sound of some of the students crying, the room was dead silent.
Trapped Trapped is a fictional story written by Michael Northrop. It is 232 pages long. The story begins at Tattawa High School. The snow begins to fall, and school is let out early. An irritable teacher named Mr. Gossell and 7 kids remain.
At 5:45 AM the alarm on my phone blared some generic default tone that I had never gotten around to changing. This was probably the earliest I’ve ever gotten up in my entire life. I groggily removed myself from the pile of blankets on the floor that I had been sleeping in and headed for the shower, brushed my teeth, washed my face and searched my near empty closet for something to wear on my first day of school. Although I was absolutely exhausted and there was yet to be any furniture in my room, I was thrilled to be transferring to Pattonville High School in midst of my junior year and living in a bigger house in a better community.
It was 7:05am on a Thursday morning, when I had woken. I lied down in my bed gazing at the ceiling as my obnoxious alarmed screamed at me to get up and prepare for another day of school. I was beyond exhausted. It was November 17th. Thanksgiving break was just around the corner waiting for me to relax and get my mind off the prison we call school.
Now most people would be nervous of moving to a new school, but all we had to do was move through new hallways since our middle and high school are connected. Freshman year was probably the hardest year I've had looking back at it now and shaped me to be who I am today. Back in 2013 my grandpa had passed away from a rare form of lung cancer and my Mina (grandma) was suffering on and off from it, having no one to take care of her my mom would stay at her house 5 to 6 days out of the week and she would go there right after work. I would hardly see my mom except in the mornings before school and by than she would be sleeping after driving home from Danbury at 5am. My dad was hardly around from work and just not wanting to be home.
It was uncomfortable for me to be around my classmates, but everyone in the class seems to be nice to me because I was the new kid. They didn’t have problems with me and I didn’t have problems with them. As time goes on, I began to feel
I left friends that I’ve known since kindergarten. So when the fourth grade started, I was completely alone. I had to get to know my surroundings, try and meet new friends, and figure out how things worked around here. Then in the seventh grade, things really went downhill. That was when everything started to change.
I’m Lore Heumann I was 13 years I died in the holocaust here is my life story. I was the youngest child of my family the only children in my family was me and my big sister margot, I was born into to jewish in a village close to the belgian border. My family lived close to our general store. And around the street was my grandpa he kept cows and horse in his farm, grandma said that she had to go somewhere for a long time, it’s been six months seen I saw her. I loved talk to my friends and to play with my dolls my parents bought me.
This created a great rift between me and the people that had been my friends. I began trying to hang out with friends but found they were always busy while I was home reading, waiting for an adventure. I had managed to keep a few of my friends and these people are still my friends today, but first I had to deal with being solitary for a while. After I accepted the way school, and friends were going to go I only faced one obstacle. Almost my entire life changed after my move, I had a new routine, some new friends, and a new way I had to learn.
As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes on the first morning, I thought about how this was not only my first day in a new grade and a new school,
but I soon made many new friends. My school work was on average with the rest of my classmates.
My first day of high school as a freshmen in a new level of education Is what I was thinking when I woke from slumber that morning in bed. Stepping foot on the campus wasn’t even the beginning, taking the school bus in the morning is where the first taste of being a freshmen and actually starting and being an high school student. I started to get really nervous and a sense of reality hit me. Walking towards the bus stop all I see is a huge group of high school students waiting around for the bus, calm and cool as I try to stay to be I approach the waiting area not knowing what to I’m getting into.
