• Middle School. The mere feel of the word rolling off my tongue is enough to send shivers down my spine. You’re no longer a little kid anymore, you’re almost teen now. Before you know it adults will stop seeing you as cute, innocent little child but a teenage embarrassment to society. No more carefree days on a playground and everyone getting along. I matters less in less just being friends it matters more about who you’re are. This is when things get complicated. Oh, am I ever going to have a wonderful time.
    All these thoughts were spinning wildly through my mind as I steeped into my middle school for the first day first day of school. Spinning like an out of control merry-go-round that that you’re strapped to and the only way to get off is to puke and wait till it’s over. I never felt so small and vulnerable in all my life. No, I can’t think like that now, I’m too old for that kid stuff. This is middle school. I have to act tough, mature, like an adult. An adult....I don’t feel so good.
    I wandered around for a while trying to get a feel for this strange new world. I never felt so small in my life. I talked to some of my friends along the way. But it just wasn’t the same talking to them anymore. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe it’s something more. By the time I got to class it had already started. I took a seat by myself near the back of the classroom. I didn’t see any of my friends in the class, and a few of the kids it didn’t even recognize. There was one kid in particular that caught my attention. He was bigger than the other kids. He looked like he belonged in an older grade. He wasn’t big like your favorite bully who looked like he stated taking steroids at the age of three. No he was just big. There really wasn’t another way of putting it. He was clearly new since he was nervous and also took a seat by himself in the back of the class. I feel sick
    We had a female teacher. For class she just talked the entire I time about what it is like to be in middle school. She was just the type who enjoys listening to themselves talk. I didn’t feel like getting in the way. So I zoned out for most of class.
    Near the end of class the teacher caught one kid drawing in his notebook. I was new kid.
    “What is this?” she said in stern voice pointing at the new kid’s notebook.
    “Drawing,” he replied in silent yet calm voice.
    “What class is this?”
    “Listening” I cracked a smile on my face I the instant I heard it.
    The teacher was clearly getting annoyed. I guess she didn’t get the joke. She tore the book out of his hands and showed it to the class. “Look class we seem to have an artist in the class,” she said showing the class the drawings. “Well, Mr. Legler, this, my friend, is English class, not art, and weather you like it or not, if I ever catch you drawing in this class again you’re going to have to talk to the principle!” She said, slamming the notebook down on his desk. He was embarrassed. I think it was less about what the teacher said but more about the fact that she showed his work to the class. She left her mark.
    The bell rang and the kids started filing out of the class room. I got up and walked over to the new kid.
    “I thought they were pretty good drawings.” I was telling the truth. They were very good for some one his age.
    He didn’t respond. He just swiftly glanced up and went back to gathering his stuff to get ready to leave.
    “Could I ask for your name kind sir?” I teased.
    “It’s just Mr. Legler weren’t you listening?” He said as he stood up and left the room. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
    The rest of the day went roughly the same way. Just a bunch of people who like to hear themselves talk. At the end of the day I stood outside. I don’t really know why, maybe I just liked how nice the weather was. I noticed the same kid from my English class was outside too. I slowly walked over and silently stood next to him. We just stood there. I was first one to speak.
    “Those were really good drawings the best I can manage are stick figures.”
    “Don’t patronize me.” Apparently he was having a bad day and didn’t feel like talking. He did smile though. He seemed to have felt flattered.
    “Can I ask you for your real name or is it still just Mr. Legler?”
    He chuckled, “Alaric, I could teach you how to draw better if you want.”
    “Are you sure? I make a toddler look like Michelangelo.”
    “That’s ok, I like a challenge,” he said, talking out a notebook.
    “Name’s Matthew by the way.”
    Nice to meet you, Matt.”
    Same to you, Al.”
    Middle School. I don’t feel that bad anymore.