The first week of high school classes had gone by as expected. I met a few kids, but mainly stayed quiet along with the rest of the kids in my classes. I immediately noticed most of my classmates were not like me. They were mainly of a different race, and I was a minority for the first time in my life. My peers also did not hold the same values as I did. While they valued school higher than family and friends, I believed that family always comes first and school’s importance was flexible. They were academically rigorous, inside and out. I could tell by the way they answered questions that they did not speak like me either. Words I had never seen other than in books and dictionaries were used in normal conversation between classes. Auspicious,
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By the second week, I had already taken my first Music Appreciation test. The test was brutal, and I was looking forward to a nice nap when I got home as it was a Friday. On my short subway ride home, I drifted in and out of sleep. In my dream I was in school, but not Stuyvesant. It was instead a stereotypical high school. The kind seen on Disney television shows. In my first class, my best friend from middle school, Alex, was seated next to me. Everybody acted the way I did, and I felt safe and happy. Every time I reached a station, I woke up from the screeching of the breaks caused by the (bad) conductor, but immediately fell back asleep and start dreaming of some other setting as the train started moving again. By the time I reached Brooklyn, the schools were getting worse and worse. At first the schools were dangerous and gang violence was common. Then, the schools became increasingly challenging and grade-oriented. The school I dreamt of last was Stuyvesant. I made my way home upset, and I was eager to escape the horrors of school that seemed to be following me everywhere. I threw my backpack off outside my apartment. I never brought any schoolwork into my apartment. The library and school is for work, home is for relaxation. I was nearly asleep by the time I got to my room, which is most likely why I did not notice the yellow crime scene tape that was all over the place, and the small cones that are often used in murder investigations. Believing that I was already asleep and dream walking, I ignored the little I saw and barged into my
By the second week, I had already taken my first Music Appreciation test. The test was brutal, and I was looking forward to a nice nap when I got home as it was a Friday. On my short subway ride home, I drifted in and out of sleep. In my dream I was in school, but not Stuyvesant. It was instead a stereotypical high school. The kind seen on Disney television shows. In my first class, my best friend from middle school, Alex, was seated next to me. Everybody acted the way I did, and I felt safe and happy. Every time I reached a station, I woke up from the screeching of the breaks caused by the (bad) conductor, but immediately fell back asleep and start dreaming of some other setting as the train started moving again. By the time I reached Brooklyn, the schools were getting worse and worse. At first the schools were dangerous and gang violence was common. Then, the schools became increasingly challenging and grade-oriented. The school I dreamt of last was Stuyvesant. I made my way home upset, and I was eager to escape the horrors of school that seemed to be following me everywhere. I threw my backpack off outside my apartment. I never brought any schoolwork into my apartment. The library and school is for work, home is for relaxation. I was nearly asleep by the time I got to my room, which is most likely why I did not notice the yellow crime scene tape that was all over the place, and the small cones that are often used in murder investigations. Believing that I was already asleep and dream walking, I ignored the little I saw and barged into my