Elementary school teachers were very kind, and I loved elementary school. I could remember a lot of them, but I had only a select few, and sometimes they were mean. I really had no one but my grandparents and Alex to lean on during those years.
Spelling and reading were my favorite subjects, but I had my struggles too. In 3rd grade, I had anger issues—I even threw a desk once. I knew why I did it: there was a girl I thought was my friend, but when the teacher wanted to rearrange the class, they moved me away from her. She was very kind girl,but apparently she didn't want to be my friend or even be near me.
By 4th grade, I made quite the impression—but the wrong one. A new student didn't like the fact that she had moved there, and she kept kicking me under the desk. When I finally fought back, I was the one who got in trouble. I was beginning to learn that teachers didn't always believe kids like me.
PE was another challenge. I was out of shape and chubby, and I often did the opposite of what the instructor told us. That reputation stuck with me for years, even haunting my siblings, because people compared them to me. It felt like my mistakes became their burden too.
I didn't really like to do much at school besides have lunch with the school nurse or play in band, though I didn't do well in band either. Still, there were a few bright spots. One teacher in particular was very kind, and sometimes I would have lunch with her. On days when I felt especially low, I'd eat with the nurse instead. Those moments gave me a sense of safety and reminded me that not all adults dismissed me.
My confidence took a hit as the years went on, and it made me start hanging around the wrong crowd. Friendships became harder to find, and the ones I did have were with kids already in trouble themselves. I began drinking on school property—though I never got caught—and picking fights with kids at home. I started doing things I shouldn't have at that age and ended up with my first juvenile charge. From then on, I was in and out of juvenile detention centers and on probation.
The lack of sleep only made things worse. Some nights I was exhausted from babysitting; other times it was because I was defiant and stayed out. My mom wouldn't pick me up when I needed rides, but Grandpa was always there to come get me and take me home.
Eventually, my bad choices escalated. I even broke into my school classroom, stealing money and random things I didn't even need. That mistake got me expelled, which made life even harder. My mom had no choice but to have grandma homeschool me for awhile. I did alot of the work on my own I even found out I was smart on my own too. I didn't go many places for awhile. Then we moved to another town. I thought it was a good idea but with missing alot in the public school I was behind in alot of subjects.i didn't move back until I was about to have my first child.
As hard as that transition was, something good came out of it: being at that school reconnected me with my very first best friend, Alex. But even that friendship had to be tested. I was lashing out alot towards my siblings and not listening to no one. Each time, I knew the pain of having to leave Alex behind, or the relief of being reunited. By the time I reached high school, I already knew what it felt like to stay or to leave someone who meant the world to me. By the time I got to high school many things had changed alot. I tried to stay positive through it all.