Ever since I was little I wanted to go to school. I would watch my sisters get on the bus, and I couldn't wait until I could go too. I've always had a strong desire to learn. My mom even tried to enroll me into kindergarten early, but I wasn't old enough; instead, she taught me at home herself.
We would work on little projects and go on field trips, so by the time I could go to school I had already experienced a lot. I knew how to read and write very well. I remember my first grade teacher, Mrs. Woods, the most. She always went out of her way to teach us new things, and would never tier of answering questions; I was one of those kids who had a million. Mrs. Woods started to notice how much I liked to write. During playtime, I would sit at the table and write short stories and "roses are red, violets are blue" poems. She started giving me individual writing projects to take home for the weekend. I loved it! I would get so excited that I would start working on it as soon as I got home.
After I graduated first grade I was really sad that I wouldn't be able to do anymore writing projects so my mom started making them for me. I wrote all throughout elementary. I still brought one to Mrs. Woods once in a while; she said she missed reading them.
When I got to middle school, things were a lot different. Everybody was separated into different cliques and there was a lot of peer pressure. It was more difficult to learn in class; if you paid attention too much, then your friends would make fun of you. Eventually, I started to goof off in class just to fit in. My grades went from straight A's to a C average. My mom started to worry about me; she said I wasn't reaching my potential and was disappointed how I wasn't dedicated in school anymore.
At the end of my eight grade year, my mom decided to pull me out of public school and home school me. She felt it would be better if she taught me one on one. It...