Essay on New School New Me?
I remember the first day that I moved to Troy, Missouri. I was six years old and had only about one month left in the first grade. It was my fourth school of the year… None if it was my fault, nor the fault of my family, moving just proved to be a large hassle. Deals that were “set in stone” by the original owners crumbled upon our fingertips. That wouldn’t have been a big deal, had I not already switched schools and had to go back to my hometown class.
This time it was different. We moved into the house on the weekend. All of our items were unpacked, all of the legalities and formalities settled. But, something was different to me. Every other “new” school I hadn’t actually packed for. So to me the other schools were just a small vacation from my true home. This time I was ripped from my way of life, an unearthed sapling being shipped to a new farm, with new plants and new soil, new water and new weather. Everything I knew had changed, and I was afraid.
I took slow, timid steps towards Mrs. Harris’s classroom, squeezing the handle of my Scooby Doo lunchbox hard enough to paint my knuckles ivory. The principal tried to make small talk as she ushered me to my classroom.
“Where are you from?” “How old are you?” “Do you have any siblings?” “What’s your favorite school subject?”
Each question added an uncomfortable weight to my chest, to the point that I couldn’t respond in coherent sentences, only mumble, nod, and worry.
We got to the classroom and Mrs.…