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My mom stands firm on one point: NO MORE PENCILS. It is true that my family has tubs and tubs of pencils; some fresh, some worn by years of "What I did on Summer Vacation" essays. What family doesn't? However, one packet of fresh pencils always manages to sneak its way craftily into the shopping cart. In addition to the necessary writing tool, there is another basic object that is primary in the everyday life of the student: the binder. To decide on a binder, I use the "Eeney-Meeney-Miney-Moe" method; the binders usually break during February, when term papers are in full swing, whether the binder is marked "Heavy Duty" or not. But, as even the most dedicated school supply fan will tell you, buying the supplies and being 100% ready doesn't ease the anxiety. Even though I, along with almost all of my fellow teenagers, get bored by August 31st, I still approach the newly-unlocked school doors with apprehension. Will my friends still like me? Is the homework as bad as the upperclassmen say it is? Have the teachers taken a secret ballot to (heaven forbid) remove the vending machines? These and many other questions plague me on the day before school starts. All of this summer, I have been aching to go back to school. I have a great group of friends, some great teachers, and one extra thing going for me. I am at the top of the hill; my classmates and I are the heads of junior high, otherwise known as the eighth graders. I feel so powerful, so grown up. Then I look at my older sister, who is at the top, too, as a high school senior. Suddenly my puffed-up pride deflates and I am just me, not too special, as I had previously thought. Apprehension strikes again and I bite my nails with worry. Oh, cruel Fate! Why must you treat me in this manner? Back to school time also trips many of the best up in one department: Lockers. It takes me at least three weeks to actually get mine open every year, and another three to install the gosh darn flimsy shelves that are "so useful." I dug around in our house and found some metal ones this year, so the shelf part shouldn't be a problem. But since our lockers hold about two cubic inches of stuff, I tear my hair out and yell "AAARRGGGHH" every December morning when my enormous pea-coat will not fit with my "Examining Science: Life in General" textbook. People stare at me when I do this; I just sigh and move on to my next class. The inner workings of the back-to-school mind may be hard to fathom, but if there are two rules to live by, they are these: NO MORE PENCILS. And always, always, bring money for the vending machines. |
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Julia Rowny attends Sidwell Friends School in Washington D.C.
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