Collegiate Gladiator in the Gauntlet of Education :: Personal Narrative Papers

Collegiate Gladiator in the Gauntlet of EducationI felt the presence of early morning dew against my skin as I marched through a grass field on a brisk October day. My classmates exuded frenzy this excursion was reason to escape the confines of our bleak high school. There was abundant conversation with the occasional youthful act of animation, like sprinting downfield or throwing a rock. The world seems just a bit different when a student is taken from a classroom setting into a non-academic one. Opportunity and granting immunity appear to be ever so present. Perhaps, that was reason for our class being outside during my regularly scheduled English period. In all honesty I was quite skeptical. I have never been a morning person and can be a silent cynic when it comes to group events. I staggered behindhand the group, hands in pocket, submerged in totally unrelated thought. My teacher led the way stammering uphill and clenching his worn black book, almost appearing as if he was M oses carrying the Ten Commandments up Mount Sinai. After trekking through the endless barren of soccer and lacrosse fields, we came upon the overgrown pathway that led into the woods. Many of us were known to this area, coaches often made their teams run through these wild trails. Others seemed puzzled. Stepping into the wild that day we crossed the threshold on many levels not just escaping into nature exclusively escaping from ordinary thinking. For me, the change in location would also mark a change in philosophy. Some distance I have covered.The start of my journeying seems like a lifetime ago. Blinded by innocence and burdened with little responsibility, being eight years old had its perks. Sure I had to go to school, but what exactly was school at that echelon? A day spent singing songs, playing dodge ball, paper macheing cardboard figurines, with the occasional napping and recess break. about like summer camp. To my surprise, second grade was far from what I imagined. My year revolved daily lessons on reading and writing... in hopes of achieving basic literacy. With the occasional lean into the kiddy pool of arithmetic, second grade was a year of heavy work. I was lucky to have an incredible teacher like Mrs. Perdiz. She pushed me so hard, so hard that at times I disliked her. Music, math, and art took a definite backseat to reading.