My Freshman Experiences in Writing
Me towards the end of freshman year!
I was never a great student. In 8th grade, I averaged B's and C's. The only class I did well in was English because it was easy. However, I didn't find school to be interesting or worthwhile. It was just a place I went to everyday. It was blank, white walls with uninterested teachers. It was plain assignments and boring projects. It was uninspiring. I wanted a reason to do well, and I could never find that reason.
When I transferred districts and began attending high school in 2003, I felt even more uninspired because I was the new girl with nothing special to offer. I was looking forward to entering a special English program the school offered, but my grades were not sufficient enough for me to enter the program. This was the one thing i was looking forward to and now that I didn't have that, I felt like I had nothing to work for. It wasn't until a couple of weeks in my first high school English course that I began to feel like I had a safe place to come to and that I began to open up.
My teacher enjoyed exposing us to new and alternative ways of learning about writing. She liked to show us videos that applied to us and that we were familiar with. She enjoyed using technology with her students and wanted them to be familiar with it because she knew that it would one day be the most productive way to write. We were in the computer lab at least once a week. I began writing in my LiveJournal more because she made me excited about writing for pleasure, and not just for school. She always encouraged us to incorporate writing into our everyday lives, and I did. Freshman year was my first experience in the world of adult writing, and it influenced the way that I wrote throughout my entire high school career.
When I transferred districts and began attending high school in 2003, I felt even more uninspired because I was the new girl with nothing special to offer. I was looking forward to entering a special English program the school offered, but my grades were not sufficient enough for me to enter the program. This was the one thing i was looking forward to and now that I didn't have that, I felt like I had nothing to work for. It wasn't until a couple of weeks in my first high school English course that I began to feel like I had a safe place to come to and that I began to open up.
My teacher enjoyed exposing us to new and alternative ways of learning about writing. She liked to show us videos that applied to us and that we were familiar with. She enjoyed using technology with her students and wanted them to be familiar with it because she knew that it would one day be the most productive way to write. We were in the computer lab at least once a week. I began writing in my LiveJournal more because she made me excited about writing for pleasure, and not just for school. She always encouraged us to incorporate writing into our everyday lives, and I did. Freshman year was my first experience in the world of adult writing, and it influenced the way that I wrote throughout my entire high school career.
My First
Freshman year is my first step into adulthood
Leave 8th grade behind, where I was misunderstood
Throw my history in the trash, with my stuffed animals and dolls
Just trying to survive these frightening new halls
Freshman year is my first step into the doors
Where the kids are taller, by two feet or more
Like a jungle filled with wild animals and beasts
I feel like an ant, still learning to work my feet
Freshman year is my first step into a world
Filled with heartaches and tears and cruel boys and girls
Where I'll fall in love and I'll fall out of line
Where I'll learn that the world can be quite unkind
Freshman year is the first time I want to give up
I've lost my rhythm, enough is enough
I can't find an escape, I feel alone and so trapped
The lid on my education may have been capped
Freshman year is the first step into a classroom
After weeks of hopelessness, sadness, gloom
A door opens up, and I finally feel free
As I write this poem, I realize writing is the key
Freshman year is my first step into adulthood
And even through the bad and the good
I know it will all be worth it
As long as I'm careful not to trip
Leave 8th grade behind, where I was misunderstood
Throw my history in the trash, with my stuffed animals and dolls
Just trying to survive these frightening new halls
Freshman year is my first step into the doors
Where the kids are taller, by two feet or more
Like a jungle filled with wild animals and beasts
I feel like an ant, still learning to work my feet
Freshman year is my first step into a world
Filled with heartaches and tears and cruel boys and girls
Where I'll fall in love and I'll fall out of line
Where I'll learn that the world can be quite unkind
Freshman year is the first time I want to give up
I've lost my rhythm, enough is enough
I can't find an escape, I feel alone and so trapped
The lid on my education may have been capped
Freshman year is the first step into a classroom
After weeks of hopelessness, sadness, gloom
A door opens up, and I finally feel free
As I write this poem, I realize writing is the key
Freshman year is my first step into adulthood
And even through the bad and the good
I know it will all be worth it
As long as I'm careful not to trip
The Higher Level Program and Why I Wasn't in it:
There were these groups in my high school where the "special" student were placed. One was called "Discovery" and it was for the more advanced students who were able to move faster in certain subjects. I, on the other hand, was not placed into the "discovery" group. Apparently, I was just not smart enough to be in the higher level learning classes. It was basically all students who had come from a higher level middle school located in the prestigious city of Bloomfield Hills. Most of the kids hailed from upper class families, lived in big houses, had lawyer fathers and doctor mothers. They were pampered for success their entire lives. No wonder that, when they began attending high school, they were placed into these upper level programs. My thoughts were, "They were given so many opportunities in their lives, and now they're being given even more!" Now I wasn't exactly lower class. My father made a decent salary and we lived in a nice ranch style house in Franklin. We were happy. But everyday, I went to school feeling less intelligent. I walked into my average classes, did my average homework, with my average friends. I never thought I could rise about average. Although I enjoyed my classes, I felt uneasy about the fact that I wasn't smart enough to be excepted into this elite group of intelligent people. I tried to hole my head up and I tried to write like an above-average student, but my head always came back to me not being accepted into the program. It had a big influence on my education and I think it's the reason that I never really rose above a certain set of expectations for myself. I sometimes think that, if I had been placed in higher placement, I would have had a different educational experience. Maybe my writing would be different. Maybe I would be different.
