High School Narrative

My first day of high school, the now seemingly small school, seemed so huge and intimidating. Like I would never be able to navigate my way around without stopping at every corner frantically asking each teacher if I was still going in the correct direction. Upper classmen were bustling around the school already knowing where they were going and what they were supposed to be doing. Thinking that this first day would never end, wondering if I could make it to the end and make it home in one piece, I pushed through. Fast forward to three o’clock, the dismissal bell ringing and everyone standing up to leave for the bus or the car rider line, I sat in my chair just staring. Finally, the last day of freshman year was here. After the what seemed

I was no longer the lost little freshman wandering around the school with no body knowing my name. It was my time, I had made friends with everyone, and I was ready to take on my last year of high school with everyone by my side. I had been waiting all day long to finally go to yearbook and see all my fellow yearbookies and get the year started with them. It was in a different room this year. But why? Why was it not in Coach Ritchie’s room? To my surprise not only was it in a different room, but there was a different sponsor. A new teacher at Chelsea, Ms. Hammrick, was going to be our yearbook sponsor. I immediately ran to Coach Ritchie’s room when my day was over at 1:25 pm and asked why in the world we didn’t have him as our yearbook sponsor and what was I going to do trying to adjust to someone new who didn’t know how anything worked. He placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Well goober, they needed an extra teacher for a math class, and since I was qualified, they took yearbook away and gave me an extra math class. And for adjusting to someone new? That’s just going to have to be something you work out with the new sponsor. You’re no stinkin’ freshman

Hammrick seemed to let us do our own thing, just as Coach Ritchie would do. She seemed to want to learn how things were supposed to be since we were all third year yearbook staff. Then around week three she decided that she was no longer going to work with us, but more so against us. She would fight us tooth and nail on everything we asked to do; shot down every idea that we had. This power hungry demon was stepping on our territory and we were getting sick of trying to adjust. Since I was the most forward student and wasn’t afraid to challenge what she said, she had decided that I was the student she would give the most trouble. Sitting there, argument after argument, I thought to myself, “Well, demon hell-beast, I am not afraid of you. I am not every other student who will let you run all over