Insecurity: 101 “New school, New me,” I whispered to myself. I was beyond anxious and my whole body was trembling. I had recently moved out of the rough parts of Brentwood, TN. It had been tough leaving my friends, who I knew since elementary school, behind. I felt isolated;I felt like mime and the world had me in a cage, and everyone I knew was free to roam around and enjoy the pleasures of the world. I shook my head and tried erase that thought. “It was only a daydream,” I whispered to myself. As the thought left my body, a new challenge approached me: the classroom. It was daunting, my brain instantly filled up with wretched, horrible theories. I knew I was an outsider, and I KNEW no one in this school of horrors.
Then as a shooting
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“I couldn’t make a bad impression if don’t talk to anyone,” I thought and so found a seat and quietly sat there till class started.
With these already heart shattering experiences lodged in the back of my head, class abruptly started.
“Hello class, my name is Mr.C and I will be your teacher!” said the tall, scary looking teacher who had just startled me.“Since today is the first day of school, and many of you are new we are going to do a name activity.”
“I hate these,” I whispered under my breath, to scared to tell anyone. The game was boring and that is it. As the day progressed, I became accustomed to these painfully boring activities which happened in every single class, and worst of all I still couldn’t remember anyone's name. Fortunately enough, before I would cracked after having to do name games the school day was over. I was over the top excited that the weekend had arrived, but then it hit me: If I don’t make an attempt to talk to people this day will repeat like a broken tape
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“Another boring day with no friends,” I concluded. I still hadn’t talked to anyone and minute by minute these chances were disappearing. The day progressively got worse from homework in math to an essay in English, but the worst part of the my day was lunch.
“ I have no one to sit with!”I inferred. “ Am I going to sit alone or with a random group?” So then I decided to the impossible and sit with a random group of strangers. It was awkward at first, but as it progressed I became more and more equipped with the people that surrounded me. However, I still felt like an outsider, and I still didn’t truly know anyone.
Later, after lunch, I thought the day would get better, but with my luck it got worse. It was the last period and we were assigned a project that was due at the end of class. We also were paired into groups and lucky for me, I didn’t know anyone. During the course of the class my group attempted to stay focus, but thanks to the luck of the draw we messed around and nearly finished the project. “Shot,” I whispered, with all are brain power we managed to finish, but unfortunately my email couldn’t send the email to the teacher. We all started to panick, and worst of all the blame was being put on me. My self esteem was shattered, I truly felt like an outsider and worst of all
And I don't have anyone to sit with. I am an Outcast.” (4 Anderson) This made her very shy and she just minded her own business. On the first day of school, Melinda was getting on the bus and she didn’t know where to sit.
Thus, I went to the next safe group of people, the teachers. I would have conversations with my teachers
The sweat was dripping down my face as I pushed the weights off my chest. Everyone ran towards their bags after a student said there was a gun in school. Twitter was the first source that we checked just to make sure. Boom! The door slammed open as coach Ben yells “Hurry up and get out”. My heart started beating faster and faster. We didn’t know what was going on. As we were running to the gym everyone was panicking and pushing each other. I could feel the burn on my elbow but I didn’t know what it was. When we got to the gym my elbow was covered in blood. We were told to get down and stay quiet. Later on we were told a student brought a gun to school and was planning on committing suicide. That was one of many gun incidents at my high school.
Zero awoke to find himself standing, it was not something he was familiar with and he searched his memory for any recollection of it happening before. Quickly he discovered that large parts of his memory were missing, gone were the seemingly endless data bases of information. Quickly he sent out feelers trying for a connection of some sort but he drew a blank. It seemed that where ever he was now, had limited connection capacity. Instead he used his visual feed to survey his surrounding, it appeared he was in some kind of desert of discarded parts.
One rather beautiful day I head down to the building fields of Uruk with my only son Urnabe. He is 14 and he is turning out to be a skilled mason or at least better than his old man. When we get there I see that Binfem was already waiting for me.
A cold draft filled the room I was in. The house turned into a horrific scene, and I knew I would never get out alive. It was the Asylum. There’s a rumor in our town, a rumor that started when someone made the observation that everyone fits in. No one was considered strange, homeless, an outsider.
As the dull scent of chalk dust mixes imperceptably with the drone of the teacher's monotone, I doodle in my tablet to stay awake. I notice vaguely that, despite my best efforts in the shower this morning after practice, I still smell like chlorine. I sigh and wonder why the school's administration requires the students to take a class that, if it were on the Internet, would delight Mirsky (creator of Mirsky's Worst of the Web), as yet another addition to his list of worthless sites. Still, there was hope that I would learn something that would make today's first class more than just forty-five wasted minutes... It wouldn't be the first time I learned something new from the least likely place.
The test was early on a Saturday morning. I remember eating an early breakfast and then packing my bag for the test. Everything about the day was going to be unfamiliar, from the location to the fact that the test was timed. I didn’t even own a school backpack yet, having never needed one before, so I packed my number 2 pencils, erasers, calculator and water bottle in an another bag instead. I walked into an unfamiliar high school and having no experience finding my way through the maze of hallways, followed signs until I found my way to the classroom in which the testing would take place. Before this moment I had never had to sit at a desk before. The straight lines of desks were so orderly and there was a proper classroom feeling that I had never experienced before in my home. I remember sitting there with my stomach in knots; standardized testing is anxiety inducing for almost any student, and I had the usual test-taking nerves combined with the unfamiliarity of a new
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
Growing up, I always felt out of place. When everyone else was running around in the hot, sun, thinking of nothing, but the logistics of the game they were playing. I would be sat on the curb, wondering what it was that made them so much different from me. To me, it was if they all knew something that I didn’t know, like they were all apart of some inside joke that I just didn’t get. I would sit, each day when my mind wasn’t being filled with the incessant chatter of my teachers mindlessly sharing what they were told to, in the hot, humid air of the late spring and wonder what I was doing wrong. See, my discontent
I remember the first time I walked into the classroom, it was unlike any classroom that used to know. Everything was unorganized, kids were out of their seats, silly posters and drawings cover most of the walls, and books, pencils, and markers were all over the place. The teacher didn’t seem to be bothered by all the ruckus happening in that room. She was a large woman who seem to be in her 40s with short white hair and unusually pale skin. She asked for my name, and so I introduced myself. Anything else that she said beyond that is but a blur to me. As she introduce me to the class, I couldn’t help but to look confused and stay silent. My eyes wander around the room and I watch as the others murmur and chatter among themselves. Immediately, I realize that I was out of place. Something about me was different from the others. It wasn’t because of the color of my skin, nor my ethical background; the class itself was very well diverse. It was something on a deeper level, a connection that they all but myself have in common. The ability to translate emotions into words that can be shared and to be understands by others. It was the language that they
School had just started; it was the fall of my sophomore year. I was excited about having new teachers and being able to boss around those little freshmen since I had finally lost that ridiculous title of “freshy.” Although one class did turn all that excitement right into knots in my stomach, it was English 10. Ugh I hated English, partially because I could never remember all those rules of writing, which I had just thought of as “dumb.” I figured, “Why would I ever need to know all them? Computers will be able to fix all my mistakes for me!” As I would soon find out, boy was I ever wrong. Surprisingly, class was going good; our teacher Mr. Mieckowski seemed to be a little weird and quite boring at times but all in all not too bad I mean who isn’t boring occasionally? He had a shiny head with very little hair and never wore long sleeves to class. He was also quite tall and skinny, so everyone had his or her own conclusion about Mr. Mieckowski’s personal life. A lot of the time this ended up being the topic of conversation for his students, along with his hatred towards icicle lights, white reindeer, and especially technology; the thing I loved most.
I nervously opened the doors to my future, hoping for the best for myself. At first, I believed departing to class would be simple, but when the bell rang for the first time I had no idea what class room goes where and how busy the halls were going to be. Suddenly, the entire world around me scrambled to class, and on occasions bumping each other along the way; it was a widespread panic for most of the freshmen. Fortunately, I found some wonderful teachers to direct me to my rooms that I will spend the next year
It was a gloomy Tuesday despite the fact that it was late August. I had missed the first day of school because I always hated the idea of introductions and forced social situations during those times. I hated my particular school ever since I started as a freshman the
This was it. I was expelled from the school. My life was over. I didn’t care about my other friends who were with me; they all kind of disappeared away from me. All I was thinking of now was myself and the trouble I was in and predicting what will happen when will get home and tell this story to my parents.