I remember when I was younger, every year I had Disney to look forward to. It was the highlight of the hot and sunny season called "Summer Vacation". When school was out and my cousins came in, I was happy. It meant family time, the good kind for once, and each year, no matter how old I was getting, I still loved going to Orlando. It was the only dream I was looking forward to and was promised would happen every year.
Prices rose, jobs were lost, and my dad was struggling to make ends meet for the four of us. I took his hard work for granted. When he told us that one year, that we weren't going to be able to go, I felt disappointed. Deceived and cheated out of my vacation. There wasn't much to do, but he tried to make up for it by taking us to the pool and the beach and malls and such. We never really bought anything or went anywhere that required admission, so we were limited on things to do. School came back and summer came again. For a lot of the time my parents tried to avoid going out because that would mean eating out and spending money on gas and other expenses. So we stayed at home and visited relatives, and that was all that we would do.
I wasn't really allowed to go out with friends. Especially not guys. This was the rule for as long as I could remember, up until 7th grade... It sucked. It's not like I was really invited to parties or to hang out with people anyways, because I didn't have anyone I was very close to. The only party I ever was really invited to was a 5th grade grade pool party by one of the guys I was cool with and a few of our friends, but my dad would never let me swim without him, much less with people he didn't know. I guess you could say I kind-of developed my bathing suit shyness from that. Since I wasn't exposed to people in half nudity very often, it was natural for me to feel that way.
Then 6th grade came, I lost all my "somewhat" friends, and started over new. I only knew about 5 people that were from my elementary school, but society has a funny way of pulling people apart. We took different classes and had lockers apart from each other, so whatever little contact we had before was almost non-existing now. I was practically a stranger, while everyone else seemed to come from better schools, like from "Cable Car Park Elementary"* and got along just dandy. Within a week people had established their own little groups, and me, being the lonely loser I was, had yet to find people I "fit in" with.
*name changed to protect myself and all the jerks who made my life miserable that year, thanks guys. ~sarcasm~
6th grade was miserable. The first happy moment of middle school was in chorus class. Because the older kids thought my petite frame, somewhat shy personality and soprano voice was cute, I was popular with the girls and I made a few high school buddies too, in the chorus program. And I made my first two friends. One was a drama queen (I say this in all good aspects of the phrase) and was loud, funny and random. I'll admit I know she didn't like me very much at first, but somehow we became friends. The other girl, K, was quieter and pretty and I didn't know her that well until later on in the year, after somewhat annoying her by girl-crushing on her. >.< There's something about her, I don't know what, but even my mom loves her like a daughter, it's almost embarrassing. She was the first friend I ever had over. That was this year. :)
Science I hated the most. The girls were bitches who made fun of me for no reason other than the fact that I was apparently ugly and a loser. Everything I did or was, was wrong: from my eyebrows to my cell phone, to the way I pulled the loose strands of hair out of my face, or wore my sweatshirt around my waist. My shoes weren't cute like theirs and I wore my socks high like the boys did and I never wore earrings or bracelets or necklaces like they did. I actually believed I was ugly. Needless to say, that class made me feel suicidal at times, but I never told anyone anything. My teacher didn't teach much, never noticed the bullying, always gave us worksheets to do and spent her whole day on the computer doing who knows what. (oh wait- the students knew what- she spent her time on MySpace.) I respected her as a person (to some extent,) but I just don't think teaching was exactly her forte. Or maybe her technique just didn't fit my style, who knows, who cares. It was supposedly an advanced class, but most of the kids copied off each other's worksheets and tests and since I didn't have friends in that class, I was left to fend for myself and do the work alone. Most of it I never finished. I got my hard-earned C's and they got their cheating A's.
This is why I think "GPA" is a piece of shit that has no value to me whatsoever but I work on it either way. Because that's how life works.
History was completely different, our teacher definitely knew how to entertain the gifted kids (or me, at least) with snacks from different parts of the world and related projects to do. It was fun. I met one of my first middle school guy friends, Z (who I unknowingly had a crush on at the time, would tease often, etc, etc.) in who knows what class, because we had almost all of them together. I made friends with J (the girl), B, and a few others. Math was great too, because our teacher was certified to teach gifted kids and was probably certified to be insane to some degree. The highlight of that class was a random day when she came in to rap for us. (Remember that, Z?)I actually felt like I belonged in math. My alias was "Bob", and no one frowned upon me for being weird or responding only to "Bob" during roll call.
I guess 6th grade wasn't that bad when I look at it now.
