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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Experience · #1602669
My first day of freshman year; looking back.
      I think there are set guidelines on how freshman should feel on the first day of their high school career. These rules would probably include: headache, upset stomach, occasional vomiting, and of coarse diarrhea! Although I only had the upset stomach, and headache I am sure other students had it worse.

         

After a time consuming morning of getting ready, I loaded the car, heavy backpack in hand. My dad gave me this high school speech about bullies, senior boys, and homework…it was sort of like the dreaded “sex talk” between teenagers and their parents; this talk however, was short and less awkward. When we pulled into the BP station across the school dad told me to have a great day. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and opened the door. My stomach twisted and churned, my heart racing, and head overflowing with thoughts. After I was about half way through the student parking lot I started to see the forbidden gates of hell staring me in the face. My worse nightmare was becoming a bad reality show on MTV and I was the star.



I shuffled up the ramp, and walked into the giant doors. On the walls of the school were homeroom numbers with your name under the teacher’s room number. Around the freshman papers were at least 50 kids; mostly girls hugging, frolicking, and dancing around like it was cheerleading practice. It was so pathetic to watch, they are all so fake. I quickly got fed up with innocently waiting my turn. I then remembered what my dad said in the car, “High school is about you, not everyone as a group. Be independent and strong.” I pressed through the crowd and visited each paper; eventually, the last paper I looked at had my name. I quickly searched up and down the list to see if any names sounded familiar to me- none. I was doomed, alone in the world and doubtful. I just had a gut feeling that this year would be the most horrible year yet.

         

Moving sluggishly toward Mr. Foster’s room I witnessed PDA, (which I can’t really complain about because I have a significant other…and yes, we kiss. But these people were really sucking face!) almost a fight, teachers with frowned faces, frustrated and lost students. I approached my homeroom, walked inside to see only 5 maybe 6 people. I sat down at the closest desk to me. Most of the class I stared into space; looking at the freshly waxed, linoleum floors, rekindling my summer, pondering on the upcoming year, even pulling out my new John Greene book at one point. I fixed my eyes on the piece of “Trailer trash” that just walked in the door. She slammed her purse and bag down; pulling her shirt up so the entire world could see her cleavage and large, flabby tummy. I thought I was going to literally puke.

         

“Settle down, settle down!” Mr. Foster rushed into the room, nearly 10 minutes after the tardy bell. He then handed us paper, after paper, after paper… I felt bad for my parents. After the agony of paper handouts, he handed us our schedules; the only piece of information I really cared about. When he handed me my schedule I said to myself, please no PE, no PE, no PE…please anything but PE! I quickly turned over the small piece of paper to see that I had PE… a long, ugly frown appeared on my face; although my PE class was last period, not first. All my life I have been cursed with first period PE, which comes with first period PE stench. The curse is broken, and I will never have to take another PE class as long as I live!

         

I made my rounds, class to class. Class changes were becoming harder to get through as the day went on. We were all shoulder to shoulder, being shoved into one another. People made it impossible to even see the classroom doors, let alone get to them! My teachers were very inviting; some more than others. My English teacher (I am not going to say who mainly because I told her I wouldn’t, and because I am afraid she will perforate my skull with her 4 inch heels) started raving about how she literally got ran over by a push mower…while mowing up a hill; the blade cut through her knees…she then proceeded to show us the scars.

         

At one point during the day I sat in the completely wrong classroom, and ended up spending the whole class period In there because I was too shy to get up to tell the teacher I was in the wrong class.

         

The day was suddenly coming to an end, my class was almost over; when I found myself wondering where the buses were? My classroom had no windows, so I couldn’t even get a look of the outside world until we would load the buses. My one track mind was taking over, so my thought process was fallow the crowd. That is exactly what I did too. I fallowed the biggest crowd down the freshman hallway, and out two double doors (which only one was open, and one boy was trying to shove his obese body through one door with yet a 90 pound kid trying to get out the same door) that lead to a large parking lot filled with bright yellow buses starting their engines. I walked to the bus, plopped down and watched students board. Finally, I was seeing familiar faces. I pulled out my iPod, quickly shoving it into my ears. I shuffled through my songs and picked one that drained my ears out the best.

         

When my bus finally left the parking lot, I felt this heavy weight being freed from my shoulders. It was a sensational feeling; I wanted to cry, laugh, jump with joy, and go to sleep. Guess what? Tomorrow it starts all over again…

         

High school is filled with idiots that you will odium, and kids who think they are better than everyone else. High school is somewhere that can and will change you, hopefully mature you, possibly kill you, it might make you suffer from minor depression, restlessness and anxiety. Everyone has a different experience of freshman year, even there first day, walking to their first class; what they saw, or how embarrassing their first class was…or even not finding the class. I am not going to lie to you…my first day of freshman year was complete and utter hell. If yours was any recollection of mine…I feel very sorry for you.

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