Haley's Yearbook Tryout Essay

As it turns out, it's not just geeks that are on the yearbook committee. Haley's English teacher asked her to apply for yearbook next year. She had to write an essay about something interesting. She wrote this great article about a first day in school. I think you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

The Perfect, Imperfect Day

Throw-up seeped through my fingers and splattered to the ground as I tossed it behind me. I never imagined my first day of Junior High lost, nervous, late, and worst of all, puking my guts out.

It took days to prepare for what I knew would be the perfect first day of school. My friends and I spent one entire day devoted to find an outfit that would make all eyes stare. The night before, I had my alarm set for 4:30 am, my outfit laid out, and all my pens, paper, notebooks, and folders were all placed exactly where I wanted them in my new chic messenger bag.

As I rolled over to look at my alarm, to my surprise the clock read 4:10 am. I was like an eight year old child on Christmas morning, so excited for the day. So early in the morning, yet so wide awake with anticipation, I was ready to get a jump start on my makeover. Practically skipping to the bathroom, I couldn’t wait to use my brand new, never been used, eighty-five dollars of smooth, creamy, silky designer shampoo and conditioner. As I did my hair, every single strand fell precisely in place. Never in my life have I had a day when my hair was so picture perfect.

Every thing was on track. The night before, my mom made my favorite dish, macaroni and cheese with hotdogs. She knew how excited I was for my first day of school and wanted it to be memorable. The following morning when I came to the fridge the left over macaroni and cheese with hotdogs called my name. As I ate my breakfast, I couldn’t help but think that nothing in this day could go wrong.

At last, the day I had waited for was finally here. As I walked through the massive doors, my eyes widened with astonishment, my comfortable elementary school looked like the size of an anthill in comparison. As I wandered down the long hallway jammed with students bustling around, I felt ecstatic; a new adventure was just beginning.

Out of nowhere the bell rang and everyone disappeared, the hall turned into a ghost town. Frantically I fumbled for my schedule to see where I needed to be. The class number read 2411. Looking above me I noticed the class number was 3721. Back in elementary school I remember the class numbers going from 1 to 30…”oh crap, I’m screwed.”

Roaming from class to class I started to hyperventilate. Being late was not part of the plan. Now running through the deserted hallway I noticed beads of sweat dripping down my worried face, my body began to shake, and my stomach started to churn with anxiety. At that point I remembered my breakfast of macaroni and cheese with hot dogs. It was calling my name again, but now with an unwanted voice. I knew there was nothing I could do. With desperation, I tried to shield the launching cheesy chunks with my hands, thinking I could stop the whole event. Instead, my hands acted as a back board, hot dogs began to rick-a-shay back into my face and stuck to my not so picture perfect hair. My chic messenger bag was now splattered with the gooey mess. Now my ideal outfit was becoming a reality, all would stare, but for all the wrong reasons.

I guess my mom was right. This day would be memorable; it would be a day I would never forget.