Different- My adventure in the realm of finding myself

Chapter II: Things Get Messy

I remember when I was a lot younger (about 5 years old), I used to wonder how certain kids could be so poorly behaved. I didn't know if it was their background that convinced them to, or if they were simply doing it for just attention. Fore example, in kindergarten, a kid named Ben had shoved a rock up my twin sisters best friends nose. Another kid, who was never actually caught, smeared poop all over the bathroom walls and caused us all to have to sign out and sign in to use the bathroom. I used to feel like a goody goody, until I fell into that void and my behavior flipped like a switch.

In 3rd grade, I was only 8 years old, and I barely remember how it even started. I remember my teacher, Mrs. H, smiling at me while introducing herself on the first day of school when you get settled in. She seemed super sweet, but I had no idea that it was all gonna change very quickly.

I had never truly lied before. I knew it was wrong to do, and that the truth would eventually come out. It was something that just hadn't been in a bone in my body for a long time.

Third grade was a whole new step upwards, though, and this was when I first developed my hatred towards homework. This was the first year that we had actual homework, and large things that we had to do at home. It was crazy stressful for me at first, because I was actually having to do work before I played. I had always wanted to grow up, but now that I think about it, something inside me didn't.

I was extremely conflicted with homework and had no intentions of doing it. This feeling was to the point that when my mom asked me if I had homework, the first of one of my biggest lies would come through.

"My teacher doesn't give out homework."

Right then, I slipped and fell off the snowy mountain, and the snowball would start getting bigger.

Every day, my mom would ask me about homework, and I said "nope" every time. This went on for 3 whole weeks, and I was 3 whole weeks behind. That was when my mom got a phone call from the office, saying that I was FAILING. FAILING!

My mom stormed right to my room that day and told me to give her my backpack. That's when she found my 3 weeks worth of homework in it. When I tell you I had never seen my moms face turn tomato red like that, I MEAN IT. She looked like her face was about to burst into flames. I was scared, but it was time to take ownership.

For the next week, I have 4 times the amount of homework every day because I had over 24 assignments to make up. And it didn't end there.

My behavior started to change. I may have been forced to stay caught up in homework, but that didn't cure how bad I was. It only made my behavior at school worse.

I think the friends I had at that point made it harder for me to switch back. All of those kids I thought were horrible for their behavior were now my friends, and we created mischief and hardships for Mrs. H together. She always had something to say about me, and it was never good. She began to pick up a sentence that burns a hole in my mind:

"Chloe, it is just amazing to me how rude and disrespectful you are."

I look back at those words now, and I'm embarrassed. It didn't cross my mind that things were so horrible, until we had parent-teacher conferences, and my teacher was angry.

"Chloe, you seriously need to stop messing around. You have such low grades and we need to fix your behavior. You are FAILING."

Those words were what knocked my butt in gear. I had watched multiple kids throughout those 4 years get held back and I didn't want to be the next.

It was around January that everything took a slight turn for the better. I had no idea what exactly it was, but I was told there was a school spelling bee that all kids were asked to try out for, 3rd grade and above. We all were asked to spell specific words on a paper and turn it in for grading. I had no idea that I actually was quite skilled in that area, and so the day that I got an acceptance letter into the spelling bee, I didn't exactly know what to think. I took it to my dad, and he seemed excited. From that moment on, my dad went straight to business with me, and we practiced nightly. Over time, I learned how the whole thing went, and by the day of the bee, on January 22nd, 2009, I was pretty much ready to go.

I remember seeing all the students flood into the gym, and we all took our seats as the announcements were made. It didn't take long for me to realize that this was actually a contest. I had the 8th chair, and the warm ups began.

We all had to spell our names first, and then say the word after we were done. I decided to crack a joke, and ask "can I have a definition please?"

The whole gym started cracking up, and that made me feel just a little looser. I was very tense, and I had no idea how to feel.

My first word, though, was "dribble". When I spelled it correctly, I sat down, and more and more time went by. I watched as more people were eliminated on words I could spell in my sleep. Next thing you know, there were 3 of us left. We all had many words we spelled, and my heart skipped after the second kid, Nick, was eliminated.

It was just me.

They told me if I spelled the word correctly, I would be the new spelling bee champion.

"Spell 'Alopecia'."

I slowly spelled it, and repeated the word afterwards. My heart sank, unsure if I had actually done it.

Mrs, Oyler, my Music teacher and now a judge, smiled at me.

"That is correct."

My jaw dropped. I was in absolute disbelief, for I, a third grader who was supposed to be a second grader, had just beat kids up to 4-5 years older than me in a freaking spelling bee.

Little did I know, though, that the positive attention and victory in an academic area would flip a switch inside me.

I managed to pass the third grade with just good enough grades to continue. Not only did I learn that I needed to behave better, but I also learned that I was way more capable than I thought I was. I managed to go on to the fourth grade, and continue my journey.