I wasn't so sure if there would be a "Part Two" to this blog. Well, now I am sure, because I'm still typing this blog. I'm looking at Part One to joggle my memory so I may continue.
Well, I remember, two nights ago, my mom and I had talked about this for a while as we were laughing about other things. I guess it was true that that accident with my friend, growing up, did happen before going to kindergarten.
My mom said that it happened while I was going to daycare. At the daycare center, there were older kids who "took" me in and helped me become more outgoing. Maybe because of this action, I was a pretty good student in kindergarten.
But, I guess I still hated it when the surroundings would get quiet and my voice is the only one heard. I can recall a time in second grade, where the teacher would show us these "Problem Solver" cards. They were pretty large cards which showed a situation that had happened and the class would discuss it.
We sat around the teacher and talked about how the students were getting upset, I guess about not sharing certain objects with each other. The teacher called on me to say how they might have felt. I simply said, "frustrated." My voice was quiet and I was a little scared.
Third grade was rather okay. Well, I still never liked sharing anything with the class - well, standing in front of them. I spoke more around with the people I knew. But, others, I just kept quiet. I can remember doing book reports as homework.
I never liked reading back then, so sometimes, I'd make up book names and author names. I had wrote that John McCain wrote some book on kittens. When the teacher saw that, she had asked me if that was true. I simply nodded. But, later, I had no clue that John McCain was a real person!
Surviving third grade without my best friend was unbearable. She didn't move away, we just had to get separate classes. We had got in trouble as little kids sneaking from the patio into the window just to go to the bathroom. I still can't remember who was the ringleader.
Fourth, fifth, sixth, and so on. Those years were nice. I became one who never stopped talking with that best friend of mine. Teachers would try to quiet us, but we knew we could get away with a whisper.
Ninth grade came. Which meant, no more best friend. We finally separated. We both went to other high schools. But we promised we'd stay in touch. Well, as long as she wouldn't talk as much over the phone.
I was late to my first class, but during lunch, I met an old friend from the sixth grade. We ate together for a while, then she met other friends. Those friends took me in to their little circle of friends. I really liked how easy making friends was, that way. Not much work on my part.
I do remember when I had first spoke to one girl. I noticed her standing by my classroom door each morning. She came to the school in January and we became friends in March. We had a Physical Education class together.
Ever since, March of 2005, I think, we're still friends today. She was pretty easy to talk to, and outgoing, like I once used to be. The only thing that surprised her, was a Hawk Nelson concert. I will never forget that day.
Hawk Nelson is a Christian pop/rock band from Ontario, Canada. On August 31, 2007, my uncle, my friend, and I went to see them after a baseball game. If you saw me there, you probably wouldn't have recognized me by my screaming, singing, and jumping.
I think the thing that scared me was how I felt in all my classes. Not just the mixed up class in Algebra, where it was pretty much for the juniors, and there were two sophomores in it, including myself.
But, in every class I had, I felt that all eyes were on me. Whether I was sitting, or standing, or walking around. I felt that every action I did, the other students were looking, right at me. Even when I spoke. Well, sometimes they'd look, or look back at me; I'd still get nervous.
I can laugh at how that fear even made my grades drop. Just to be so afraid of turning in a paper into a basket. The getting up and the walking and the moving of my arm to place a paper in the basket. Sometimes, I do okay. But, I'd try to avoid it, and turn it in later. Perhaps after class? Yes, that's what I did sometimes.
But, in the tenth grade, that bothered me, but not as much. I guess because the teacher wasn't all that good and she lost respect with the rowdy class. I can recall writing about taking the final in my journal, and how I always wanted to speak my mind, but said, "I can't."
Which felt true to me, because I thought every word I'd said in that class - which was very little - would come out wrong and I'd be a laughingstock. But, then there came the senior year. That's where I met another girl in my American Government class. One who looked so quiet and was very nice. But later, that had changed.
You'll found out later in the Part Three blog. Thanks for reading!
Posted By: Symone Brown
Tuesday, August 11th 2009 at 12:04PM
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