Teenage Troubles by Madeline

Teenage Troubles by Madeline - November 2014 Scholarship Essay

I remember the first day of freshman year. I wish I could say that it was the beginning of the best years of my life. I wish I could say that I drove up to school in a brand-new, shiny red sports car with the windows rolled down, blaring “All-Star” from Shrek. I wish I could say that I made seven new friends who asked to sit with me at lunch. I wish I could say that the senior quarterback asked for my number because he had heard so much about the beautiful “new girl.”

I wish I could say those things, but I do not want to lie.

The truth is something much different. I rolled up to school in a yellow bus that smelled like a combination of overwhelming Dark Temptation Axe Body Spray and lumpy, rotten milk. I got lost on my way to my Spanish and ended up in a Physics lecture on the distinct differentiation between centrifugal and centripetal force. I mispronounced my own name when I introduced myself in my English class, and I tripped up the stairs twice.

I spoke a total of two words the entire day. Those words were “I’m” and “Sorry.” What else was I going to say after I stepped the back of a senior’s shoe? She had glared at me like I was a Lego she stepped on and wanted to destroy with a nuclear bomb. I had mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and scampered. I freely admit it; I was scared. Her eyes could have shot Iron Man-like blasts and scorched me into a pile of ashes.

Those first week felt like the longest one in my life, but it ended. Life went on. I brought a cloth soaked in perfume on the bus in case the smell became too overpowering. I used my bookbag as a barricade to avoid the raging body odor. I made a few friends in my classes. A group invited me to sit with them at lunch. I found my way to Spanish class without any trouble, but I avoided the Physics classroom like it was an Ebola quarantine. I answered a question in English class without mangling my words. A sophomore asked me to the Homecoming Dance, and I never saw the Lego-destroying, Iron Man-blasting senior again.

I still fell up the stairs an average of 3.75 times a month.

High school is so different from middle and grade school. It is liberating. It is frightening. It is rewarding. It is a time of transformation. The rules have changed, socially and academically. High school is not like Mean Girls, 16 Candles, or Easy A. It is more like the scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indiana Jones jumps from tile to tile, avoiding poisonous darts and pointed spears while trying to reach the golden idol on the pedestal. High school is a balancing act of social life, academics, and extracurricular activities.

There is only one way to survive it all: optimism. However dark and hopeless, the situation will get better in time. With a sliver of curiosity, classes become interesting rather than endlessly monotonous. With an ounce of dedication, high grades are more than attainable. With a brave nature, clubs and athletics become diverting opportunities. With an open mind, every stranger is a friend. With an optimistic outlook, high school becomes a kingdom, and you become the king.

After all, that was my motto, and that senior quarterback ended up asking me to prom.