Did you enjoy school when you were young?

I'm still young.. still in school, so I guess I'll look backwards. I've never had a problem academically with school. In fact I've found the whole idea of it to mostly be a joke. I'm not going to focus on the academic aspect.

    My first memory of school is of kindergarten. My teacher was Mrs. Silverman. She was a sweet older lady who I still look back upon as being sort of a grandmother to me since my mom's mom died before I was born and my dad's mom is crazy.. literally. The only memory I have of kindergarted is of my birthday. My mom and I had baked brownies and she came to school with me and I sat on my teacher's lap as everyone sang me a happy birthday. It's a good memory. I remember liking early elementary school. I felt like I fit in. My mom was the PTA president and always very active in my education when I was little. That quickly became non-existent though when the divorce of my parents forced my mother to go back into the 9 to 5 rat race or in her case the 8 to 7. I think it was third or fourth grade when I began to realize I didn't fit in. I pretended though, all the way up until fifth grade when for some reason social groups became defined. The popular group tried to "draft" me. They were always asking me to eat lunch with them or play with them at recess. Sometimes I accepted, other times I declined. My friend Melanie began to become concerned that I wasn't hanging out with her anymore. She's the only person I ever felt comfortable with. Perhaps because she was as awkward as I felt in those days. I started declining invitations to hang out with the popular kids.

    Soon enough it was time for the transistion to Junior High. I remember parts of my first day very clearly and have completely forgotten others. I remember meeting one of my really good friends that first day. We sat next to each other in homeroom and talked. It turns out we were born only two days apart and in all of the same classes. It was fate. :o) Later that day before gym class a girl approached me and said, "I heard you used to be really popular in elementary school until you became weird." I suppose that's when I started to allow my strangeness to show. I stayed good friends with Melanie in middle school despite us being in different classes and blocks. Then tradgedy struck. An attempted suicide and hospitalization separated me from my friend. I continued through school while her parents had her locked away. Loosing her along with the struggles of my home life dragged me into depression.

    High school was more of the same. I found a group of friends amongst the "freaks" of the school. I dyed my hair various colors; purple, red, orange.. all in an attempt to find myself. I struggled to survive. I was "found out" in ninth grade when I was sent to the school shrink for self destructive behaviour. I ended up in a hospital with a shrink asking me questions trying to find out if I would be "safe" at home. I lied so that I could go home and suceeded but only after agreeing to start taking zoloft. As a result of my new drug, I slept through three days straight. The only thing I remember of that next week was my sister painting my nails. I was excited because the color was heat sensitive and morphed from a purplish black to red. After being a zombie for a week, I stopped taking the drugs and somehow managed to convince my mom to not send me to therapy by promising to stop with my self destruction. And so my struggle continued. My struggle for survival. Somehow I managed to stay in honors classes with A's and B's. My promise to stop self destructing lasted for as long as my mother was checking. Once she stopped I started right up again. Things only seemed to get harder going into my senior year. Depression was hitting me hard and I was not the only one. Home was horrible. My older sister went through multiple suicide attempts. One while away at college and one while she was home on a "break." I still remember the one at home. I was scared to death. She had downed a bottle of Clanazapan(sp?) and was stumbling around like she was drunk. My mom and oldest sister took her to the hospital at like 3am. I couldn't sleep so I went to school. I was a zombie. Staring into space practically in tears the entire day. I had a test in english and I couldn't even think enough to understand the words on the page. I just wrote on the top in possibly the shaky-ist, most concentrated handwriting ever, "My sister is in the ICU can I take this another day?" and handed it in. I got called down to guidance during my next class. I sat there silent in tears. Somehow I made it through that day and so did my sister. Eventually I applied to local colleges and actually got accepted everywhere I applied. Looking back I should have had more confidence in myself and applied to more than just the four local schools that I did.

Regardless, I ended up in a place where I'm happy. I'm away from my family. I'm doing something that I actually feel I'm meant to be doing. Studying biology... I know. I'm a dork.  Who in there left mind feels that bio is their calling? I want to go to med school. I've actually been okay in college. I'm away from home. I get to deal with my own problems without someone hovering over my shoulder. I'm sorting out my life and finally figuring out who I am. I finally starting to enjoy school.

I realize now that it was not just school that I hated. It was the feeling of being stuck. I wasn't learning anything. I wanted to progress forward but I couldn't. I was struggling to get through. Struggling to get somewhere I actually wanted to be. I of course and still struggling to get where I want. The only difference now is that I am actually learning things and the things I learn will lead me to where I want to be.