Personal Narrative: Ten Children In High School

Snotty, disgusting, treacherous, repulsive, and plain old mean can only merely describe them. They are the worst and there is nothing else to it. The way they think they own the world. I cannot stand them and that is a fact. If I was extremely hungry and they walked up to me offering food, I wouldn’t even take it and today was the day that we would finally face them.
Let me explain myself, for this rivalry goes way back. I had always despised of Oak Ridge Elementary, and the students there had always despised of my fellow Pine Meadow Elementary pals and I. This abhorrence didn’t just start with us though; it had begun the second both schools were up and running at the same time. If you went to ORE you didn’t speak of PME and vice versa. I loathed
them throughout my elementary years and today was the day I could stick their snobbery into their own faces. I had the opportunity to turn the tables, to turn the tides, to turn their idea of PME around. And all I had to do was beat them in tug-o-war. The child’s game, a constant vicious, ruthless, coldblooded fight leaving one school victorious and causing the other school to fall into a shadow of shame. The drips of sweat streaming down your face, the calloused hands, and the sore knees were minor trophies of victory. But what really proved your dominance was the “PME vs. ORE Kickball” trophy. It didn’t get better than that. It was the Olympic gold medal. Being the in the class that one the trophy allowed you to walk the halls with your head up high. You could assert your dominance over anyone and I knew that was what I wanted.
The time was up and it was finally my team’s turn, I placed myself towards the end of the rope allowing room for me to sprawl out affirming total control of the rope . We were the complete underdog in the situation, basically being compared to the 1980 Miracle On Ice USA Hockey Team. I remember staring down the opposing team they were filled with behemoths. Not one person was as short as me but I showed no fear.
“Three, two, one!” yelled the announcer. We were off and I immediately heard screams.
“Let’s win this,” roared a fellow classmate, “for PME!” The coarse rope slid through my slippery hands as I could feel all my muscles clenching up. I thought about who I was going up against, who this win was for, and what it would mean to my school to bring back the trophy. All this power found its way into my arms and leg and I pulled that rope with all the might in my body. I would have a pulled a two ton truck with the force I had. The ORE class team had started to stumble and that was when my whole team had combined strengths and pulled the last few feet we needed.
“PME WINS,” yells the announcer.
My class all screams while multiple ORE students chant,
“PME cheated, they move the stick!” I was soon in a hot rage of fury, my team had just one fair and square and yet we were being accused of cheating. My animosity for ORE had grown tenfold. Winning the trophy had lost all its value. It didn’t matter that we went home victorious, what mattered was that I would never talk to an ORE kid in my life. Ever.
Fast-forward to half a year down the road, I was walking into Mr.
Darling’s fifth grade class. Over the summer I had asked every PME friend of mine if they were in Mr. Darling’s class and every response was no. I walked into the room with shaky knees and sweaty hands. The constant thump from my butterflies flying around in my stomach would not diminish. As I stepped foot into the classroom and gazed upon my new classmates I couldn’t help but realize, I know roughly ten kids in this class. This couldn’t possibly be my class, there was no way they would stick a Pine Meadow student into a classroom overpowered with Oak Ridge Students. I sat down in a fury, steam effusing out of my ears. The first half of the day idled by painstakingly slow, I played icebreaker after icebreaker unable to make new friends due to my unwilling attitude. I told myself it was going to be the worst year of my life and it had only been three hours of class.
Finally the best part of an day had come, lunch, I was so excited to finally sit by my PME friends and tell them of my wretched day. I waited in the longest and slowest line I had ever waited in. it felt as if hours had ticked by and I still wasn’t even close to the front of it, none of my friends were around to talk to me so yet again I was alone standing there waiting to feel a little comfort and friendship. All of a sudden out of nowhere I hear someone
ask,
“Hey do you want to be my friend?” I turn around in line to see a kid relatively as short as me. He had blonde messy hair and I can recognize his face from Mr. Darling’s class. I remember in class he said is Dylan and while he is sitting there waiting for my response, the interrogation process begins. He seemed like an interesting kid but I mean he was from Oak Ridge. I didn’t want to be friends with anyone from that school. Although while I had been raised up to believe ORE was mean he was the one to initiate the friendship. Before I could even think of my response I squeaked out,
“Yes.” His face lit up with emotions as he had just gained a new friend, he let me sit with him and his friends at their lunch table where I quickly grew to enjoy all of them. Their fun, new, and exciting personalities were brilliant. At the end of lunch my stomach hurt from laughing the whole lunch period. They accepted me into their group and to this day I am still friends with them. Even though they came from ORE.
It turns out that what you hear isn’t what is true. Perception can play multiple tricks on you and can take a great group of kids and turn them into despised kids. A change of heart can transpire from a little conversation in a lunch line.