Freshman Year Narrative

It was the middle of freshman year when it was my first time ever getting into serious trouble at school. Now, if you know anything about me, I was a totally different girl back then. Freshman year was a true horror story. I spent most of freshman year arriving to school late, and my grades started to drop during the third trimester. Who would expect that from a girl like me, right? But, that’s a completely different topic in which I will refrain from starting.
It all started in the corner also known as the “black student lounge,” according to Dr. Campbell. All of the black students, well the few that are even present at this school, would hang out there. During the passing time after x period, breaks, or even after lunch it would be super
Bye.”
Taylor: “Hush mode. Quit talkin’.”
These roast sessions can tend to go on forever and forever until someone interjects to stop it or instigate. Most of the time, people interjected to instigate. It was now time to go to lunch. As I can recall, it was my favorite lunch day. Pasta Day. The bell rung, and we all walked over there. The students of the black corner all walked over to lunch together. There was pasta in the front, and lasagna in the Bearcat Cafe. In the lunch line, it was myself, Solomon, and Kesrick. By that time I had had enough of Kesrick. He was doing everything in his power to annoy me and it worked.
Kesrick: *Touches Hair*
Taylor: “Kesrick please stop.”
Kesrick: “Taylor your hair is just so beautiful.”
At this point I was so fed up with Kesrick and the rest of the boys for the day. It had been a long day, and I was very exhausted. All of the boys loved to play around with me, as well as the other girls apart of the black corner. They always tell me to “chill out” and most of the time I would. But today was a different day. There were so many thoughts in my mind. I was thinking chill out? Fuck do they mean chill out? Getting on my last freaking nerves! I was to the point where I was ready to throw
At this point, Mr. Martin and all of the teachers were probably fed up. My second excuse was that I was going to Cleveland. I visit Cleveland, Ohio a lot because that’s where my family and I was born and raised. I finally was able to attend my Saturday in April of 2015. When I came to school to serve my Saturday Mr. Martin was sitting at the front desk. The first thing he asked us is “Do you have the fifteen dollars,”. Then, we finally got started. He broke us up into groups to successfully complete different tasks. Some students were cleaning all of the windows in the school, and others were cleaning each board in every classroom. Mr. Martin had music playing over the speaker. He was playing old school songs by Notorious B.I.G. In the middle of serving our Saturday, Mr. Martin opened the closet and passed out snacks. Now, this does not quite seem like the normal Saturday.
At first, getting a Saturday for saying “fuck” seemed really childish and unnecessary in my opinion. I tried to explain everything I could to Mr. Martin and Señora Fidler. I explained that Kes kept messing with me. Nothing seemed to work at all. Back then, I was very upset about receiving a Saturday because it was my first time ever getting into trouble. Now, almost every time Kes is brought up into the conversation someone brings that incident up. I seem to always laugh at it than beat myself up about it more often. People do funny things all the time,