Entering my Junior year of high school I was forewarned about the most important and hardest year of my high school career, the year was looking more negative than positive from the advice given. Despite those comments I decided to enter with a positive mindset starting with my soccer season. I had been playing since I was 6, captain of my middle school team, injured my freshmen year, and was having one of the best seasons my Junior year for both my school team and out of school league. In the mist of one of my games I was unknowingly struck with a concussion but continued to play the game.
When I first started Unity high school I was nervous high school was going to be rough and hard to make friends but I 've been enjoying high school so far in freshman year. The biggest fear for me in high school was that there were going to be little bit of people to hang out with. This freshman year I have not joined any clubs but sophomore year I would consider joining clubs. This freshman year I don 't think I 've changed much from middle school but I have learned many things this year. When I had my first day at Unity High School I had a feeling that It was going to be rough for me and it would be hard to learn things but so far it 's been going well nothing has really changed from eighth grade. The thoughts I had in the beginning of the
During my freshman and sophomore years of high school, I was a dancer at a local studio and at Arts and Communications Magnet Academy (ACMA). Dancing was fun for me, I met a lot of great friends and was able to express myself through art. I genuinely loved going to ACMA. But, dancing and attending ACMA led me to meet someone who forced me into situations I never expected to be in. Although I wish I had not ever been forced into those circumstances, there is a silver lining to it. Before this story begins, I need to clarify; there is no immediate concern that is needed to be felt. Everything stated has been told to either my parents, my therapist, or a police officer.
Entering high school my freshman year, many things were new to me, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to get involved in as a student. The only thing I was sure of was that I was going to play high school soccer. I’d been playing soccer since I was about 8 years old, and finally having the ability to play for the high school I grew up watching was exhilarating. My main goal going into the soccer program was that I wanted to make the varsity soccer team by my senior year in high school- my brother had been a former varsity player, and I greatly wanted to fill his shoes and leave my mark at the school. Throughout my four years in the program, that was my main focus, but I was happy to discover that I was also making friends along the way. Although
Both of my parents are lawyers. Every meal and outing was faced with discussion of current events and policy discussions. I was always prompted to share my constructive opinion based on facts. I had the opportunity to shadow my parents and developed an interest in many of the foundational aspects law.
My first year of middle school was when music became a challenge for me. I had been playing the flute for three years and in those three years, music seemed to come to me naturally and I had no issue playing music that was put in front of me. Because I had been playing longer than most kids in my school, I was asked to join the honors band which was comprised of the best players in the school. The first day of official practice was when I encountered the piece of music that challenged me for months, Geneva by Timothy Broege.
I was nervous. We all were. We filed into the classroom wondering if we would do okay. As we took our seats on the stools lined against tables at the back of the classroom, I felt so anxious that I thought my head was going to burst.
One cold day in October I was on my way to class when the school had a gas drill, everyone ran outside and lined up by there teachers, everything was going well for me till some girls keep putting grass on my hoodie “stop doing that, also why are you doing that?” after I said that they stops for a minute and started doing it again, “you know that this is boring so just let me do this *smile*” said the girl although it was itchy and made me mad I let her do it till we went inside and since then we’ve been friends.
Any fifth grader would be happy advancing to middle school. But I was an exception to what I just stated. I recently moved from a fantastic house in New York City into a junky little house on the bay of California. Even worse, I lost all of my friends, and was starting fresh off the bat. My first day at school was hard enough. I tried to talk to the tall older students around me, but they simply ignored me. They continued to talk knowing my presence was still there. Of course, I was basically a dog next to an elephant. Soon, I found myself listening to other students’ conversation and gave up. Later, the six classes I had to attend without getting late to any of them, rushing and out of breath whenever I got there. But, during lunch was the worst part of school. Since, I recently arrived to this middle school, I was
I was silent and never felt the need to smile my first few years of elementary school. Why? I could not understand or comprehend what I read. When I was given a selection to read independently, I couldn’t remember the first section of the passage by the time I was finished reading it. I was extremely silent as a child due to the fact that I couldn’t read or write very well. Being the student in a class surrounded by other kids, who could read and write with no problem, was devastating, and humiliating. Deep down I knew that I was capable of completing the assigned tasks, but did not know why. Eventually at the end of first grade, I was diagnosed with a decoding disorder, and a form of dyslexia. I never thought overcoming my disorder would be my biggest obstacle and greatest lesson.
In the second grade, I started public school. Everyone around me was reading and writing. Everyone bragged about learning how to read when they were only 5, some even two. Everyone pressed me to see how I matched up. Everyone knew what they were doing. Am I stupid? Moronic? Vacuous? Idiotic? Unintelligent? I was staring at undecipherable lines and curves that held no meaning to me. At the age of seven, I was struggling with what seemed to be common knowledge to all but me. I was behind, they said. What’s worse than being behind? That makes me not as good as everyone else doesn’t it? It means everyone is smarter than me. Everyone knows more than me! Maybe I’m dyslexic. My mom made all the excuses she could for me. She promised that I was smart
Until middle school, it was typical that I argued with my mother instead of my father as she was the one always home with me and pushing my buttons. However, when I entered middle school something changed. My mother began working part time and it was my father who seemed to push my buttons. Since my mother was adjusting to being busy at work and at home, my father took on more of the parental disciplinary role. This meant that I had to ask him when I wanted to do something. I distinctively remember wanting to join my middle school band and play saxophone to which my father replied, “No, you can’t play saxophone, that’s a boy instrument”. Being the independent and outspoken girl I was, I was furious. It was an instrument, it had no gender. I
In the duration of my middle school years, I maintained excellent grades, except I had just one issue that held me back from a satisfying life. That issue was the fact that friends came very hard to me in my middle school years. Before my struggles at my middle school, Trafton, I had a very productive social life in the Elementary school I attended, Roberts Elementary. Here, it was very easy to make friends and have a great social life, since no hard work was required as a kid. Middle school, however, was a great challenge for me.
Junior High years were pretty… interesting to say the least. Seventh grade was my first year in the high school. Yes, I was pretty nervous going into a school with kids who were much, much older than me. I knew I wasn’t the only one nervous. That kind of helped my brain chill out a bit. Everyone in my class was probably going through the same type of fear. I remember for the first few weeks we had to share lockers. No joke. I had to share a locker with Mackenzie. After the couple weeks were up with that, they decided who got to stay there, and I was the one to stay. She got kind of mad, as she was the one who had to go upstairs with the eighth grade. I don’t even know how I remember that, I just knew it happened. It was pretty funny watching