Personal Narrative: My First Week In California

On a warm, wishful week in August marked the beginning of a new school year for me in California. I had already been through one year of elementary school in this new state and now I was going to fourth grade. Elementary school is not the hardest experience for anyone to go through, but for me, it was the most traumatic and one week was all it took.
At my cheerful looking elementary school, every class had a specific table assigned to them and that was the place they would eat lunch and you were not allowed to switch to any other table. For the first week of school, the aids assigned us each a partner to eat with until we made some friends of our own. By the start of the following week, my partner decided to eat with some other girls. She looked at me with the most disgusted face and said, “I’m sorry but you’re new to this school and you are fat. So, we don’t like you.”
As tears welled up in my eyes I corresponded with, “Well I’m sorry you feel that way but I don’t think that’s how you should treat others and fat is not a very nice word.” Taken back, the girl flipped her curly blonde hair and rebutted, “Well, I’m a nice person and I say you should stay on my good side. Watch it.” Not knowing how to react, I took off towards the bathroom and stayed in there for the rest of lunch.
The forecast promised warm weather and clear skies, and then came the next few days.
For the first three days, I stayed and ate my lunch in the bathroom, which left only two more days of this awful treatment. On Thursday, I decided to not care about the other girls and sit at my table. Walking with my head held high to the outdoor cafeteria, I reached the red, uneven table with a few spots to spare. Successfully, I sat down on the far end where hopefully the girls could not see me. Next to me were a few boys whom I did not know that well. As I unpacked my lunch, I was shoved off of the table and left on the floor. Not knowing why the boys would do that, I soon realized that the girls convinced everyone to make sure I could not sit anywhere. Once again, I walked over to the other side and sat but before I could sit, my lunch was taken and thrown into a big trash can. In this situation, I knew it was best not to try to talk to them knowing the outcome would be miserable. With the feeling of failure, I sulked back to the bathroom and cried my eyes out until the end of lunch. Luckily, no one found
me.
Friday, I thought. Finally, it was the day I was determined to walk into that school with the biggest smile on my face and not a care in the world. The bell rung at eleven and I grabbed my lunch to go eat at the table. Again, the girls with their perfectly straight hair shoved me off the table which in their words was, “Like moving a huge rock that jiggles when poked.” Not caring anymore, I sat on the floor and ate right there in front of them to prove a point. Of course, later in the day I was called in the principal’s office for disrespecting the rules. All I did was simply explained what happened and what has been happening in their perfect, blue ribbon school. Not believing a word I said, the girls were called in after me and made up a false story of how I threw a punch at two of them and cursed them out. Full with rage, my parents walked into that school and told them every single thing that has happened. Lucky for me, I didn’t get in trouble, but I did get a reputation for being the “fat girl from Oregon”.
For the rest of the year, I made some of my closest friends, which were all guys. For the next few years of elementary, I was still bullied by the girls, but I had my new friends to accompany me. This experience left a time in my life I wish to forget, but has made me a stronger person in the end. I want people to take away that no one can define you, you have to choose who you become and you cannot let people push you around.