Rough Draft For Essay 1

High school was hard for me – in fact, it's hard for almost everybody. Those awkward years of trying to figure out who you really are and the type of people you fit in with, only to have it ripped apart when you reach college; it's a terrifying time in everyone's life. High school was hard for me for 2 reasons; 1) I hated everyone at my school. The girls were mean, the boys were stupid, and the staff favoured the mean and the dumb. 2) My best friend had moved away, leaving me alone. I had my boyfriend, who is now my best friend, but the sting was still the same. 3) My French 3 class was literally full of people who were friends with each other.

But let's rewind a little. Before we discuss the hell of French 3, I need to describe my other classes. I didn't have particular hard subjects – in fact, they were pretty easy for me. I was taking three AP classes and I did very well in them. The fact that I didn't like anyone in the school didn't hurt my grades one bit.

I had lunch after third period (Photography), and I always dreaded going to French 3 right after. Complaining to my twin sister and my boyfriend, Josh, never really helped much with my frustration. I hated going, and I thought nothing was going to change that.

The class was really small – people wise and space wise. There was only maybe 15 kids in my class, but we had the portable room with the wasps nest right outside. We all had assigned seats that my teacher, Mme Haveman, would change every month or so. That was fine and all, but it also meant that I couldn't just sit in the corner away from everyone. No, fate would decide to have me sit in the middle of the room surrounded by people I really could care less about.

In any other class, this wouldn't have bothered me that much. I would just ignore everyone and talk to my boyfriend or my sister. But, alas, I didn't have either of them in my class. Most of the time, I tried to not talk to or acknowledge anyone sitting near me, but Mme Haveman loved to have us talk in broken French to each other.

To top it all off, everyone was friends with each other. I am not joking. Normally, it wouldn't really bother me that no one in a class would talk to me, but my teacher always tried so hard to pair me up with people to do projects with. I understand that she was looking out for me and probably felt bad that I didn't have any friends, but I didn't want to talk to these people. I just smiled my way through it though, and did my best to be nice to these classmates that I hated. People usually didn't like Mme Haveman because she was very strict (she had also replaced our old French teacher, Mr Johnson) and didn't take BS from anyone. I liked her because I thought she was doing a good job at filling an old teachers shoes.

One day, Mme Haveman was absent from school. We had a substitute teacher, and I think you can figure out how class went that day – no one sat in their assigned seat, no work was done, and everyone pretty much goofed off. Personally, I just sat in the corner, turned on my iPod and ignored everyone. Oh, I did the classwork. And the homework. Then I did homework for my other classes. I actually got caught up with all my other classes, so it didn't really bother me much that no one was talking to me. To be honest, I quite enjoyed it.

Well, the next day, Mme Haveman came back from being sick. She was mad at the class, mainly because the sub had left a note saying that the whole class had just goofed off, except for a couple of people. To be honest, I kind of tuned her out because I knew she wasn't talking about me. I started on my classwork while she lectured the other kids.

It wasn't until she said the words, “It is not right to leave one person out in the whole class,” that I realized she was talking about me. I tried not to think about it and kept working.

Class went on as normal. We all learned some French that I can't remember today anyway, but it was still a normal class. Then, class ended. I always breathed a sigh of relief when class ended, because my next period was AP Psychology, which I loved.

That day was not my lucky day though. Mme Haveman asked me to stay after class. It's not that I didn't like her, but staying after class never meant anything good.

She waited for everyone else to leave the classroom before turning to me from her desk and simply asked, “How are you doing today?”

I was even more confused. Why did she have to wait for everyone to be gone just to ask me how my day was? “I'm fine.” I replied.

Her face became a little more serious. I was starting to get a little nervous now. Teachers had always made me slightly weary, and I really hate getting in trouble with them. It seemed like she was collecting her thoughts, so I waited patiently for her to continue.

After a couple seconds, she began talking again. “It's just, you know, the sub left a note about everyone, and I was worried about you.”

Then it hit me. She wasn't mad at me, she wasn't lecturing me, she wasn't blaming me. She was worried about me. Mme Haveman knew that the sub had been talking about me in the note; she realized that the whole class had left me out. She was mad at them for doing that to me. My French teacher just lectured everyone about leaving me out.

I can't for the life of me remember what I said to her after that. I think it's because I was so amazed that a teacher, someone who literally knew next to nothing about me, stood up for me. I do remember crying about it later, though, because it meant to much to me that she did that.

Never in my life had a teacher stood up so totally completely for me. I don't think a teacher will every do that again.

Mme Haveman was really nice to me for the rest of the year, always asking how I was doing, or what my plans for summer were, or asking how my boyfriend was doing. Of course, I warmed up to her right away – she was a very nice person.

Sure, my classmates were nice to me on a very impersonal level, but I was never really included with them. They did it for show, just to make themselves look better for leaving me out. It didn't really bother me, I could care less what they think about me.

The thing that really stuck with me about this whole experience is that someone really stood up for me. This wasn't just my best friend telling the class bully to leave me alone – this was a teacher telling a whole group of students to be nice to me. No one had ever done that before, and even when I'm writing about this now, it makes me want to cry a little.

You may be wondering – what did I learn from this? Well, I learned that the most unlikely people may be looking out for you. Believing a teacher wouldn't care just isn't how people should be thinking. Teachers do care; you just need to give them a chance to show it.

I also learned that what those kids were doing – ignoring me and purposefully leaving me out – was a form of bullying. It didn't really bother me much then, and it certainly doesn't bother me at the present time, but it does give me a great experience so that I can help others who are affected by bullying.