Personal Narrative Analysis

Boom thunder echoed across the sky right before a blinding flash of lightning. I trudged along the walking path from the P.A.C.E. bus station to school. Rain pelted me, and I could only hope that I would make it to the school soon. It was the first day of my freshman year, I had straightened my unruly curly hair; ,y mom had ironed the tan khaki pants that I wore. By the time I got to school, both my hair and carefully ironed pants were completely soaked. Carmel was new school with about twelve times more students in my class than my grade school. A school that was a forty minute drive in rush hour and with very few students from my grade school attending. I had come from a little school with a graduating class of twenty-eight students, and I had been pegged as the shy but smart type. I dealt with a bit of social anxiety that stemmed from the fact that I had a hard time with vocal reading. Before middle school, I had attended special classes to help me learn to read. Even then, my vocal reading skills were not up to par

No thunderstorms to herald in the start of the new year just more train rides and homework. In the morning, I would wake up at 5:30 am and leave the house by 6:30 to get to the train. In grade school, I woke up at 7:00 am which was a far cry from 5:30. Freshman year, the way that I traveled to school was thrown up in the air by scheduling. Originally, I was going to take the train line that was less than five minutes from my house; however, this line had no other students from my high school using it and was much more complicated. Instead, I took a train that was about a fifteen minute drive from my house which helped simplify my family's life. During sophomore year, I also meet some new people who helped me adjust my focus. Kelsey was one of the people I meet; I shared a religion and art class with her. She had many of the characteristics that I had all through grade school, shy but