starting at a new school - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Walking the halls plastered with work of people I don’t know,
My friend is laughing,
I don’t know why,
All I can think is what I am doing,
I should be somewhere else,
Soaking up the sun with the people I belong with.
I get to class and sit down in the uncomfortable plastic chair,
I turn to speak to them but then I realise,
I left them behind,
I left all of them behind,
I try to picture what they are doing now,
Probably not even missing me though I miss them.
My name sticks out like a sore thumb here,
Back then it didn’t matter,
It wasn’t important like it is now,
I instantly feel judged yet the teachers are oblivious in fact,
They even make it stand out even more,
How am I supposed to fit in now…? I can’t.
I think about telling someone,
But some sort of force propels me away from the door when I pass,
Instead I put on my mask, my facade,
No-one should have to know the way I feel,
It was my choice,
Only now do I realise it was the wrong one.
And my parents my poor, poor parents,
They think they have a strong daughter,
Someone who they can rely on for doing the best for the family,
I can’t bring myself to tell them,
That I would rather have a helmet sewn onto my jumper,
I made the wrong choice.
I would be wandering the halls of a knight,
Arm in arm with the people that I have known for years,
If I had just said the different name,
Hidden from prying eyes,
Moving forward with my other schools,
With people I trust with my secrets…with my entire life.
Instead fake it,
Because if I uttered one word to my ‘friends’ they would tell,
Even if I said not too,
Then the adults will get involved and my cover will be blown,
My parents would know and would try to deny its importance,
That I should tell them the truth.
That I don’t belong in this school
It was my first day at my new high school. The hallways seemed busier, the students seemed less friendly and, the teachers didn't seem to care that I didn't know my way around. Finally, the lunch bell rang and I was freed from the history class I was unable to understand. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and picked up my map, determined to find the cafeteria without help. Big football players raced past me in an effort to get their lunch first and cliques of cheerleaders clotted the stairs. As I walked into the lunchroom alone, looking desperately for an empty table, someone tapped my shoulder. "You look lonely," she smiled at me, a bright smile that made my day a thousand times better. "Would you like to eat with me?"
Staring at the ground I walked through the hall. Nobody seemed to care that I was unfamiliar. Nobody seemed to care that I was unusual. Nobody seemed to even notice me. I had to take a glance down to make sure I was still there; that I hadn't turned invisible. Nope -still there. I liked it that way. I had once been told that I had the kind of face you forget even when looking directly at it. Good. I didn't want to be remembered. Attention had brought me only trouble in the past, so I did my best to dissolve into my surroundings. Music in my ears, I had a smile plastered across my face. This school would be a fresh, new, normal, start. I was finally happy. Until the bell rang, and a glance at my timetable told me I had additional maths. Way to ruin the day.
It was my first at school so obviously I was a bit nerovus, everyone was looking at me, their eyes were judging if I was going to be one of the popular kids or an outcast
A new school Again. I quietly made my way from one class to the next, keeping my head down and my my gaze on the floor. Mom's words echoed in my head, "Remember it's the kids who have no friends who will want to be yours." This advise seemed to make sense, and yet it kept me from wanting to talk to anyone. Sitting by myself at lunch, I watched the kids around me to see who looked interesting. One girl finally spoke to me and invited me to sit at her table. At last! Friends!
Looking back, I eventually got to know more of my fellow students and found my way but those first few days were always a maze of confusing hallways and even more confusing relationships.
New school, new teacher, new students new clothes, same old me wanting to be anywhere but here.
The boy is more fragile than the glass ballerina that sits on my dresser at home. I think if I were spin him too hard in country-dancing class his limbs might just snap. It's hard to get his attention under than mop of brown hair that dominates his narrow face, there are eyes in there somewhere. He had skin the same colour as my Dad, that brown colour without the effort of trying to get a tan, not white like me and Mom. He holds himself like he's trying to take up even less space than he already does and his clothes look at least a size too small, only exaggerating his skinniness. He looks so lost. I want to know his name so I dig in my lunch for the cookie I snuck from the cupboard this morning. I was going to share it with Amy but this new kid looks like it's just what he needs...
The boy at the table is whiter than milk with hair that matches the tangerine sitting on his desk. When he looks my way it's with a grin that tells me he's gonna be a fun kid to know. It's that sort of half smile that ticks up on one side. He looks away again, pale blue eyes to the desk, but not in shyness. With that withdrawn gaze I have been dismissed. He doesn't care if I'm his new friends or not, or perhaps that's just what he wants me to think. I take a step closer to the empty seat at his side but in seconds a kid cuts in front of me and sits down. Instantly they're knee deep in conversation, thick as thieves. I cast around for another spot, just one, right at the front on an empty desk with nothing but the graffiti to keep me company.
Last week my official welcome was over in a flash. The principal wore her standard greeting smile, but it never extended to her eyes, as if her mind was off on some other important task while she ticked me of her to-do list. Students move around the hallways in gossiping throngs. Everyone knows everyone. The map that hangs so limply in my hand will soon fall apart along the fold lines and still this place is like a maze to me. It's not like there are any defining landmarks save the numbers on the doors, this place has all the character of plain oatmeal. Only the smell is familiar, how is it that all these educational institutions smell the same? I can only imagine it's a tincture of bleach from the floors, a undercurrent of the badly cooked cafeteria offerings and a random concoction of over applied deodorants.