Johanna Arias
4/21/14
World Literature: Second Period
Ms. Parham
Personal Narrative
I walk out of my house, my comfy
fortress that I had been hibernating in during our long summer vacation. I walk
into my car (I had asked my mom to please not force me to take the bus) the big
blue minivan I was so familiar with. On we went on my way to my first day of
high school. We hadn’t talked the whole way there, I was very nervous and
worried. I worried that my outfit might not meet public high school standards.
I did not have this problem before because I always attended catholic school
with a uniform. I wore a white see-through shirt with a pink tank-top
underneath and ripped jeans, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to look so I wore
what I thought suited best. My mom approaches the school, leans over and asks
me that question I’ll never forget, “Ready?” I answered her with a confused
yes. I didn’t know if I was ready or not all I knew is that I was here and had
to go to school. I walk into Brien McMahon I admired how big the school was,
how beautify rebuilt it looked. I felt so small. Like a fish in an ocean not
knowing what part I wanted to explore first.
I came from a very small school
Catholic School called All Saints. We were always taught in that school to be
respectful and always follow the rules. We said prayers in the morning wore our
uniform and we girls weren’t allowed to wear make-up. Since my school was so
small it was very tight knit, but although it was tight knit it was very
clicky. Our groups consisted of the popular kids, the losers, he people that
studied a lot. It seemed like it was from a movie or something. I never really belonged
to one group, I always hopped from group to the other hopping that I’d stick in
one but I never really did. The group I always thought I was part of really didn’t
accept me, I never got invited to anything they did… unless I found out about
it. They only told me things when I asked not on their own. At that time I didn’t
care because I was still considered part of the group, or at least I considered
myself part of that group. I was a follower, physically and mentally, I did
what they did, thought what they thought. I walked around with them never next
to them always behind like a puppy dog, it was sad.
I got to Brien McMahon still being
a follower. It’s all I knew how to do, and I thought I did it well. I went
through my days mesmerized at how big the school was, how diverse, how not
clicky compared to my prior school.
What I have so far.....
