Personal Narrative-Rough Draft (Def. a Work in Progress!)

Finding My Voice and Discipline

School was always an area of my life that has been stressed by my parents and surrounding family. My grades and educational status were, in fact, more important to my family members (at certain points in time) than to me. Nevertheless, school subjects and information always seemed to come to me easily. I found that just by listening in school, minor to no notes were needed for me to master information. Therefore, school was always a comfortable arena of my life. I got into a strict regiment, as instituted by my parents, of doing my homework immediately after school. My grades reflected the ease and lack of challenge my schoolwork posed, and I accepted the mentality that school was always going to be like this.

It was the 2005-2006 school year, a year which signified the first real jump in my academic career. My peers and I were entering into Junior High School at LMS (Landisville Middle School in Lancaster, PA), leaving the realms of elementary and intermediate education behind.

“I don't know man, I don't know...I mean, what kinda stuff are we gonna be doing? What if we don't do well and we can't go to High School? What if the eighth graders don't like us?”, exclaimed my friend Eric Sherwood. Eric was always apprehensive about the future and could never embrace change with open arms. Maybe this trait served him well at certain points in his life, but after a while he became like a broken record of extreme caution to me and my friends.

“Just stop worrying”, I snapped back (slightly annoyed). It's just a new place and a little bit of an upgrade in education. We will be fine.” I spoke very confidently, given my past exposures to education and my level of confidence associated with it. I had no fears or inhibitions concerning this jump. To make matters even better and more comforting, I was part of a legacy set forth by my older siblings. Every teacher I had knew and loved the Merris clan. It was almost as if I was fulfilling some sort of predetermined legacy. On my first day, every teacher already knew my name and who I was. They immediately made small talk and jokes with me, causing other kids in my classes to stare at me as if I was some sort of outcast. I had an in with my teachers, I was comfortable with education and my ability to succeed with ease, and was ready to begin this year as I had every one before.

My first class was mathematics with Mr. Shirey. His humorous nature and laid back teaching mentality immediately ranked him at the top of my 7^th grade teacher hierarchy. He was charismatic, intuitive and more interactive than any teacher I had before.

“I don't even have to look at the roll to know you're a Merris”, he said to me while taking attendance on the first day. I knew that this was a good sign, yet another teacher who already had a personal connection with me without any real interaction. Math is also my favorite subject, so I had virtually no worries about this subject, but was rather excited. I was stepping into the realms of Algebra, which caused some uneasiness. But, as I mentioned before, school came easy for me. I was not worried in the slightest bit.

As time passed, I stopped doing my homework and preparing for tests/quizzes. I got an A on the first test and figured that such work and preparation was no longer needed. This streak did not go past the first test, however, and I found myself struggling in the depths of uncertainty and falling behind. I had never taken a math course where lessons compounded upon one another in subject matter. In other words, I found myself struggling more and more as we progressed throughout the course. I was also very reluctant to raise my hand and express my confusion to the teacher I had grown to enjoy and respect. If I would have just opened my mouth, this suffering and torture of getting behind may have been put to rest. Nevertheless, I got my first “B” on my report card for the first marking period, and I felt as though I was letting everyone around me down.

The height of my suffering came towards the end of my second marking period. We were studying how to algebraically construct pie charts. It was test day and I was extremely nervous for this impending test. This nervousness was attributed to the fact that my grade was riding on this test alone. If I did bad enough on this test, I had the potential to get my first C on a report card. I knew that I could not fail, and that a C on my report card would destroy my confidence and GPA. I sat in my seat the whole class period with a blank stare on my face. I had never gone into a test with no knowledge on what the test was about. I knew that I had no chance in getting any of the question components right, and that composing a pie graph was impossible. I finally mustered up all the courage I could to go talk to my teacher (even thought it was at the end of the class period).

“Mr. Shirey”, I said in a trembling and uneasy tone. “I really have no idea what I am doing.” That was the extent of it. He was fairly upset that I had waited this long to come forward with my problem.

“You are gonna need to get your act together here, because you're just not cutting it. You can do better”, he said as he was concluding his sentiments with me. Those words cut like a knife to the very core of my foolish pride. I had never anticipated school would take my confidence level and flush it down the drain. I also had never imagined being challenged this much from one simple course.

I began doing my homework again. I spent many late nights preparing ardently for tests and quizzes. I had established a new sense of learning that stuck with me through all of my educational career. At the end of the year, I pulled my grades up from a the C and B range, to two A-'s. I received an award for the most improved student in that class.

After all was said and done, 7^th grade was over before I realized it had started. I had had many memorable moments. Whether good or bad, those moments shaped me to become the student/person I am today. The first day of summer, I hung out with all of my friends and conversed about our various plans for the summer. Eric Sherwood was the first to say, “Man, now we have to worry about next year. What if eighth grade is too hard to pass? What if our teachers don't like us? What if..”, at which point I cut him off.

I replied, “You're right.” I finally realized that life was not a free ride, and that anything worth working for was going to require just that..work.