Elizabeth Prescott
Children Can be Cruel I was never a smart kid. I was in the special reading program in second and third grade, and barely passed fourth and fifth. In sixth grade, my first year of middle school, I failed history and English. I should've been held back, but my family's changing residential situation somehow prevented that fact from reaching my new middle school, and I was flung, unprepared into a new curriculum at a level I was completely unready for. Over the course of that horrible year I was tested several times to discover if I were dyslexic, I fought to make friends, and even more to keep up. Unfortunately, my struggles were in vain; I ended the year with a failing grade in every class, and a unanimous agreement from …show more content…
Not only because I knew that one of the boys who went there was a notorious bully, but because I had heard that it was a school for "special" students, and we all know what that means. Regardless of my feelings, my parents set up a meeting with the two teachers of RAMS, Gabe and Josh. Gabe was tall with short dark hair, and a full beard, where Josh was short with a shaved head and a greying goatee. I sat silently between my mother and step father as they talked about my complete educational history to the two strangers across the table. When it came my turn to speak, I was quiet. I regretted everything I'd ever done to get to where I was, and all I wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner and be forgotten. Thankfully, I had been coached on what to say, and they accepted me into their school, effective fall 2011. During my first year at RAMS I was still a bit of an outcast, sitting at the end of the table, with empty chairs on either side, and no one to work with on group assignments. My fears about the bully were confirmed, and he targeted me with his taunts, and humiliation. On one bus ride home there was an incident that set me over the edge. He left no stone unturned, my weight, my glasses, the way I talked, the way I acted, my clothes, my hair, my very existence. Ending with one particularly vulgar name that I had never heard before, but I could infer from context that it was meant to be
Children Can be Cruel I was never a smart kid. I was in the special reading program in second and third grade, and barely passed fourth and fifth. In sixth grade, my first year of middle school, I failed history and English. I should've been held back, but my family's changing residential situation somehow prevented that fact from reaching my new middle school, and I was flung, unprepared into a new curriculum at a level I was completely unready for. Over the course of that horrible year I was tested several times to discover if I were dyslexic, I fought to make friends, and even more to keep up. Unfortunately, my struggles were in vain; I ended the year with a failing grade in every class, and a unanimous agreement from …show more content…
Not only because I knew that one of the boys who went there was a notorious bully, but because I had heard that it was a school for "special" students, and we all know what that means. Regardless of my feelings, my parents set up a meeting with the two teachers of RAMS, Gabe and Josh. Gabe was tall with short dark hair, and a full beard, where Josh was short with a shaved head and a greying goatee. I sat silently between my mother and step father as they talked about my complete educational history to the two strangers across the table. When it came my turn to speak, I was quiet. I regretted everything I'd ever done to get to where I was, and all I wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner and be forgotten. Thankfully, I had been coached on what to say, and they accepted me into their school, effective fall 2011. During my first year at RAMS I was still a bit of an outcast, sitting at the end of the table, with empty chairs on either side, and no one to work with on group assignments. My fears about the bully were confirmed, and he targeted me with his taunts, and humiliation. On one bus ride home there was an incident that set me over the edge. He left no stone unturned, my weight, my glasses, the way I talked, the way I acted, my clothes, my hair, my very existence. Ending with one particularly vulgar name that I had never heard before, but I could infer from context that it was meant to be