It’s weird, for one thing. You tell yourself it’s going to be absolutely fine, better even, that the doors will fling open with a gust of wind and Taylor Swift’s soundtrack will play in the background as you strut into school, flanked by an entourage of giggling girls or stormtroopers or whatever your daydreams consist of. But deep under you’reterrified.
My middle school experience, as I’m sure it was the same for most, was disastrous. It is such an awkward age to be. Hormones, pimples, that one jerk that made you tear your hair out (which was currently a puke shaded green). Every teacher was convinced you were trying to commit suicide, and in my case, nuns screeched at me to pull down your plaid uniform skirt.
So, naturally, I cringed at the thought of high school.
But people, basically every parent known to man, pleaded to me otherwise.
“It gets so much better, trust me.”
“You’ll be so surprised. I’m so excited for you!”
“Everyone will be so nice, you won’t even need to try to make friends.”
And, even as hesitant as I was, I have to admit that they were so right. Yeah, the
first week was sort of slow, but it feels…simple.
My first day, not so much. The school was an elaborate maze, but everyone looked like they knew exactly where they were going. I originally assumed that the floors went by the alphabet. Like, the first floor would be A, the second B, the third C. When I turned down a hallway, following some confident-looking teens, and saw the letter D on the lockers, I crumbled. What was that about? I didn’t go up stairs, right? Was my mental-map wrong? When I freak out, I start yawning. So here I was, wandering the halls crazily, yawning like a madman everywhere.
Finally, after seeing a girl heading to the same class, I stalked her there. The classes were okay, I only yawned about every five minutes. Throughout the day I realized, like any normal building, A,B,C and D stood for the different wings.
I was particularly taken aback by two things during the transitions: how many seas of students went to the school, and that NOBODY, note the uppercase letters, hooks their fingers in the straps of their backpacks. Is this considered uncool? Or just not the norm? Anyway, I’ll be resisting this habit of mine from here on out.
So, skip to a month later, and I’m doing pretty well. High school is definitely much better than I thought it would be. I’ve joined a few clubs, switched a few classes, and learned a few names. I thought it would be hard bonding with people, as most of my gang continued their Catholic education at Sacred Heart and Notre Dame and such, but meeting new people has been pretty easy. No one really knows what they’re doing, but
making friends makes the whole experience much more fun. Being a freshman, in difference of my previous assumptions, is exciting.