Last year during lacrosse season I was actually excited to wake up and go to school each day. This was because as a sophomore I made the varsity lacrosse team.  I was very proud of this accomplishment because I thoroughly like lacrosse and it is not a very common occurrence. On top of the fact that i was playing this sport that I like, it was an opportunity for me to become close friends with the other players on the team. So since they were all older than me it was cool for me to become friends with all of them. The fact that I was on this team gave me more confidence and made me enjoy going to school. This added confidence, and looking forward to practice each day led to me having a much happier disposition. IN turn since I wasn't dreading school as much I started to do better in school also.

The worst time that I ever had in school was one specific day in sixth grade. Right after school ended I was standing in the hallway talking with my friends when some big eighth grader pushes me from behind. Without looking to see who it was I turned around and pushed him back. However it was a terrible mistake that ended up with him pinning me up against a locker. As these events unfolded I became more frightened. He lifted his fist in an attempt to bash my face in, but as he did this a teacher came out of one of the class rooms and intervened. This left me dazed, not really knowing what to do. From that day until the end of sixth grade I roamed the hals nervous and apprehensive to what was around the next corner. I had lost a sense of complete security while in school, that I was not able to get back in sixth grade. Although this incident didn't have any long term repercussions  it was a weird experience that stayed in the back of my mind for the rest of the year. As it turns out this day became the worst school day of my life.

When I was younger my dad used to go on business trips like once every two months. I would always miss him because he would be gone for a week at a time. Yet the wait was always worth it because wherever he would go he would get me a souvenir. Usually it was nothing more than a city t-shirt or a snow-globe to add to the collection. However this one specific gift was different. I remember anxiously awaiting his return from florida, I would sit in my room and stare out the window at the driveway and wait for his car to pull in. As his car pulled up I bolted to the door skipping half the steps and l leaped into his arms. After the hug he took out of his pocket a small baby alligator head with thirty three pearly white teach and burnt red marbles for eyes. I was filled with joy at this gift, it was fascinating to me  It was so real looking that sometimes i would wake up at night and be afraid of those flaming red eyes, like the pits of hell, glaring back at me. However no gift could have ever outdone this one, and it has been at the front of my dresser ever since. It is something that I do and will always cherish because of the fact that it symbolizes the relationship between my dad and I.