Personal Narrative Writing On School

Submitted By Jojoman135
Words: 679
Pages: 3

CREATIVE WRITING(Goes to a prestigious school to expect competition but instead finds out that all the students cheat and cheat, in the the protagonist gets fed up and tries to deal with the situation herself but fails miserably. In the end she is pressured and turns to cheating so she can maintain her high academic standards) (The protagonist is intelligent, in a unstable relationship with her parents)
June 21st 2012, the day I transfer schools to Rosekill High. You may or may not know but Rosekill High is the best of the best and most prestigious high schools in Sydney. The school is a complete blend of the incredibly rich or the extremely intelligent. But I guess the pressure and competition would be nice, since in my previous school I was competing against meatheads who don’t even know the basics of algebra or even so can’t read the clock. My parents are satisfied but not happy, no real surprise there. They had me go to tutor 5 times a week for 4 hour sessions. And in the weekends they expected me to complete all the homework given to me and to read books which were as thick as Alexandre Dumas’s “The Count of the Monte Cristo”. Well, at least all the hard effort and energy was worth it all. The only regrets I have of moving schools are leaving my friends and teachers. It’s going to be hard, not being able to see them, but I guess sometimes in life you have to move on. I pack my backs for tomorrow, to set off on a new life and a new challenge.
My mother calls in the most outrages tone saying that people who are actually “smart” don’t need their mother to call for them to get ready for school. I give myself a sigh and mumble under my breath
“Aren’t I the smart one?” and head towards the car. The way to Rosekill High is a fair bit to travel to get there. It takes at least 2 and half hours to get there, but that’s without traffic. In days like today, the traffic is horrible and it took all most twice the time it should take me to get to school.
“Mum, why can’ I just take the bus? The traffic here is crazy! Its chaos.” I say.
“Only stu-pid people take the bus, intelligent people take the car only!” my mum says in her thick English accent. I roll my eyes in disbelieve and just glance into the beautiful sky of a Monday morning.
The car holts and I brush my hands over my hair as if I’m some celebrity, and tell myself Well Mel, let’s hope for a brightened and