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Being a freshman in high school is tough; trying to get through each day without being called a “freshie” or “cute” can be hard on a fourteen-year old. But the hardest thing I ever had to do my freshman year was try out for the varsity swim team. I only had one or two friends who were trying out with me and I was terrified. What if I didn’t make it? What if everyone who tried out except me made it? I began to freak out. My friends and my family kept telling me I was going to make it, that even though I wasn’t the fastest freshman trying out, that I still had an extremely high chance of making the team. So I stayed confident and decided to give it a shot.On the first day of tryouts, I expected the coaches to be snappy and merciless. They turned out to be extremely nice and understanding. They expected the freshmen to be worried about making the team and gave us all a boost of confidence. The practice that day wasn’t that bad. We started out with a few hundreds and ended with using kickboards. I was very surprised at how simple the sets were. However, as the week progressed the practices got harder and harder. At one point a lot of people had to sit out and take a break. On the last week of try outs we had our time trials. My times weren’t the best, and this is where I really began to expect the worst. I had been so excited about making the team, and now I was worried about whether or not I would make the team at all. Friday morning, the results were posted in the gym. Before looking, my friends and I helped our breaths, said a prayer, and then went to find our names. While looking I heard a scream, then another, then another one, and then I heard myself scream. We had all made! It made my freshman year at First Colonial. How many students can say they made a varsity sports team their freshman year? Very little can. After finding out we had made the team, my friends and I rushed to call our moms. We were so happy, and so were they. This experience will stick with me forever. I am now more active in swimming than ever before, and I owe it all to making the team my freshman year. It has instilled a confidence in me that I hope will never leave. It has also made me realize that anything is possible, and that in order to achieve something I must first try my hardest to achieve it.
After taking a break for four years, I was finally back. The black and white keys sparkled in front of me, and I was ready to start again. Piano had never been my life, and it probably never will be, but I love playing it and enjoy every second of it. I was in the eighth grade when my mom told me that she had signed me up for piano lessons, once again. It had been four years since my last lesson and I was a little nervous. I was nowhere near the skill level that my peers were on and I rarely tried to play at home. However, I was pretty excited. It has always been a dream of mine to be able to play like my mom and my grandma. My first lesson was alittle nerve racking. My teacher, Mrs. BJ, was extremely nice and very enthusiastic. She told me she wasn't expecting me to remember much of anything and had gotten me easy books to start with. I was relieved at that, the pressure to do well was off. So with that, I started to play; and the most surprising thing happened, it sounded like music.l I remembered everyting! I could read music, I understood the notes and the theory. My teacher was so surprised. She said if I worked hard enough I could catch up to the skill level of my peers. I worked so hard that year to catch up to everyone else. I'm still working and catching up, but I'm getting closer to my goal every year. Piano is a big part of my life, and I love it so much. It has taught me that working hard does pay off and that is the only way to achieve what you want.
Having a fear of something is a part of everyone’s life. For me, that fear would be big birds and small dark places. After fully analyzing every tragic, terrifying event that I can remember happening to me, I have come to a conclusion. I now know what triggers these fears, but I have no idea why it still affects me. When I was three or four years old, I spent the majority of my life downstairs by the television. Standing around and doing nothing was one of my favorite things to do. Imagining a jungle or a haunted house that I could be standing around doing nothing in was what made that my favorite thing to do. On that certain day, if I remember correctly, I was imagining that I was in a haunted house. In reality, I was standing in the middle of my living room by the television and the fireplace. My mom was upstairs and my sister was playing with dolls; my dad was at work and my brother was a figment of imagination. It was pretty boring at my house, but in my mind I was battling off and hiding from ghosts and hideous creatures, like my cat. While in the middle of my dreams, my attention was brought to the fireplace. Something was inside it, something big, and something monstrous. I walked over to examine the gloomy place, which had a glass cover on it. Yes, indeed, something was inside it. I just wasn’t sure what it was. Putting my small face up to the glass I saw a dark figure, frantically flailing and beating at the glass cover. Being the young child I was, I listened to my instincts; threw up my hands, screamed, ran upstairs, and told my mom that there was a monster in the fireplace. My mom, of course, laughed at me. She told me there was nothing in the fireplace, and that there were no such things as monsters. But my continuous screaming of the fact that there was indeed a big, scary monster in the fireplace made her drop what she was doing, drag me back downstairs against my will, and throw open the fireplace. Was she ever surprised. A big, flailing bird flew from the fireplace at her head. We all screamed and shut the glass cover before the bird could make its escape. Later that day our neighbor came by to get the duck out of our fireplace. Apparently it had fallen through our chimney while taking a short rest and had been there all day. My mom apologized, even though to this day she still laughs at me for it. This traumatizing experience has stuck with me over the years. And to this day, I can’t be around big birds.
