The step seems scary. I’m a kid again, not the oldest coolest kid any more, just a lowly freshmen. If you are unsure of what I am talking about then I am talking about rising from eighth grade to high school. This is the moment I have dreamed about since sixth grade but when the move is actually ahead in the near future I am terrified. I’m leaving my safe haven of middle school for the bigger high school. I felt like this in fifth grade but now it’s ten times worst. I’m on the road to being an adult. At least in sixth grade I’m still that immature kid that I’m expected to be. No, this is where it starts to count. The real experiences start here. It’s like when you first start school, everything is a first. Your first free taste of real freedom. Of course you get that fake freedom in middle school. You think you can do whatever you want until you do something really stupid and end up in the principal’s office. Now that’s fun ha-ha. Or when you skip a class and again end up at the principal’s office. No in high school, doing stuff like that will affect more than your weekend plans.

I’m going to miss middle school though. Well mostly eighth grade. I felt like royalty when little sixth graders would ask me what grade I’m in and when I tell them the look of unsaid awe. When the teachers would tell us that we were the seniors of middle school when they wanted us to listen. The last minute class ditch in the girl’s restroom, and how we would laugh at the teacher’s face when he/she realized we weren’t there. The way some of us could be so mean with our words and how the others would laugh so they could fit in. The weirdest fashion trends that everyone had to follow or didn’t follow so they could seem different. Yes there was good times. The dances, the rallies, the different weeks of activities. There were fights and heart break and fun times and bad times but what can I say. Middle school was awesome and I’m hoping that big bad high school is better.