My name is Snowy Whit. I am eleven years old, and I go to Navy Elementary School. Currently, I am in sixth grade. However, I’m not just the average eleven year old. My personality, likings, and dislikes all merge together to make me unique. If you asked any one of my friends, I’m certain that they would tell you that I am a snow-loving, clown-fearing bunch of fun.

In fact, I highly enjoy snow. The cold just doesn’t seem to bother me. As soon as winter sweeps up to our community with her icy gusts of snow, chasing the mild autumn away, I wait for that very first snowfall of the year. Sometimes, winter is feeling quite mollified, and she never brings more than half a foot of snow. However, during the time when winter is raging about in fury, her white shawl askew, great piles of snow are heaped up at the door, and the wind blows mercilessly, chilling the trees to their bones.

I clearly remember a winter when I was in fifth grade, about a year ago. I woke up to a winter wonderland, with frost settling on the windows like a layer of tinsel and snow covering the ground, a thick white blanket coating the grass, coaxing it to sleep. It is on days like these when I leap out of my bed and dash downstairs. On normal school days, my mom practically has to drag me from the warm, incubator-like softness of my bed. However, as soon as I confirmed that school was canceled, I was outside, buried under thick layers of coats and jackets. As I frolicked along with the twirling snowflakes, I shielded my face from the persistent flurry of white that stung my nose and cheeks. My dad came out too, and began shoveling the driveway, overturning the tranquil smoothness of the snow. I picked up a handful of the crystals, and watched them slowly dissipate, so cold it sent a burning sensation through my hands. One by one, the snowflakes spiraled down in free fall, linking hands as they reached the ground, adding more whiteness all around.  The snow was too powdery for snowballs, and not wet enough to make snow forts, so I just plopped down to my knees and watched strong gusts of wind come and go, taking with them a cloud of freezing cold sparklers. I sat there in peaceful silence and watched my winter wonderland, snowflakes getting caught in my hair and settling in my eyelashes until I looked like I’d aged 60 years. The tree that stood in our front yard got completely transformed, coated in slick layers of ice, icicles dangling from each branch. I got my sled out from the garage, zooming down the driveway while my dad watched, smiling. I landed face first in a pile of snow, but I just stood up laughing, brushed it off, and tried again. Soon I had a perfectly paved track packed with awesome twists and curves. Eventually, the snow melted to nothing, gently shooed away by the winter sun, returning to the sky above.

Among some of the things I cannot stand, I am ABSOLUTELY terrified of clowns. Even though I know clowns are just people with makeup on, I cannot make myself approach them. That face of theirs is as pale as a sheet with the large grinning mouth (it seems to leer at me with that inhuman smile) that’s big enough to swallow me whole! And don’t get me started on that red, bulbous nose. It just adds to the sensation that clowns are the creepiest things ever to exist. In my opinion, even their eyes glint with madness! Plus, the oversized shoes just make the whole thing weirder. And that abnormal potbelly with the polka dotted costume? Might as well write “suspicious” across the clown’s forehead!

Once, when I was around four, my mom and I were at a county fair. There was a typical creepy clown guy selling balloon animals. He spotted us and sashayed over. “Hey there, little lady, would you like a balloon doggie?” His huge, menacing gloved hands beckoned to me as he waved an unidentifiable balloon shape in front of my face.  Well, what would you have done? I screamed in fright, and heads swiveled to see what was going on. I pulled back my little four-year-old foot and started kicking the evil clown in the shins. He let out a cry of surprise as I smacked him over and over with my little chubby four-year-old fist. As he staggered back, I heard claps and cheers. I vividly remember being surprised, listening to people laugh at this tiny little four year old beating up a grown man in a weird clown outfit. Fortunately, my mom, who had been standing star struck watching her little angel beat up some poor guy, came back to her senses. She hurried me away before anything major could happen.  Long story short, that was my first (and last) county fair that I ever went to.

Although I am deathly afraid of clowns, I am definitely a fun loving person. To me, the world is full of humor. I relish pulling pranks on my teachers, because then they have a big audience of students to witness their humiliation.  However, not all my pranks go according to plan. One time in the middle of winter, it snowed quite heavily, covering the pavement with a soft, flurry white blanket. Then all of a sudden the snow stopped, and the sun came out, driving away the snow with its gentle rays. The school district decided to enforce a two hour delay. Soon all my classmates were there, but our teacher, Ms. Bridge, was nowhere to be seen. I was planning to pop up and scare her with a few of my friends, but word got out, and soon the whole class was in on the prank. We turned off the lights and each found our individual hiding spot. I buried myself in the coats and backpacks stacked against the wall, along with a few other friends of mine. My back was killing me as I crouched in that awkward position. There were a few muffled giggles and lots of shushing, but eventually we all settled down. My classmates and I waited for what seemed like forever, but was probably only fifteen minutes or so. Just as I was starting to wonder if we should call off the prank, the door opened. A shaft of light spilled onto the floor. Then the lights flicked on. “SURPRISE!” my classmates and I screamed, launching out of our hiding spots. In unison, we all reddened with embarrassment and looked down. It was the principal, here just to check on us to see how we were doing! “Looks like you guys sure are happy to see me!” he laughed, observing our humiliated faces.  “Um…” I gulped, looking around for assistance. At that particular moment, Ms. Bridge chose to walk in. “I’m so sorry I’m late--- Whoa, what happened here?” We all just stared at each other and laughed.

I like pulling small pranks on family members as well. My mom is gravely afraid of caterpillars, so I coordinated a simple prank on her. I set a tripwire at the foot of her bed. When my mom climbed into her bed, she would activate the tripwire, which would then scatter a bucket full of fake caterpillars on top of her! I distinctly remember being jolted awake by my mom’s piercing shrieks, and then laughing my head off as I realized what was going on. After the realization hit him, my dad tried to maintain a disdainfully stern expression, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement. My mom was angry at first, but eventually even she let out a chuckle.

Being a snow lover, a clown-fearer, and overall an extremely fun person makes up a part of me the outside world sees. That’s not the only traits, likes, and dislikes that I have. Those three are just a few bits of me that make me who I am. However, there could be other children who have the same characteristics as I do. Even if that is true, I will always be unique because of what is inside me, my thoughts and opinions and feelings.