As auable write a diary entry describing the events of the day
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My first day of grade nine was so nerve-racking. I remember having sweaty palms the whole morning, and couldn't even enjoy my big "first day of grade 9" breakfast my mom had made for me. I didn't know what to think having no older brothers or sisters that had gone before me. "Why did I have to be the oldest in the family" I thought to myself. If only I had a cousin or someone to break the ice for me. I was on my own. I got ready in my kilt and golf shirt and wondered why my kilt was so long. The girls that I had seen walk passed my house in the afternoons didn't look the way I did that morning. None the less I was ready.
My first day of grade nine was so nerve-racking. I remember having sweaty palms the whole morning, and couldn't even enjoy my big "first day of grade 9" breakfast my mom had made for me. I didn't know what to think having no older brothers or sisters that had gone before me. "Why did I have to be the oldest in the family" I thought to myself. If only I had a cousin or someone to break the ice for me. I was on my own. I got ready in my kilt and golf shirt and wondered why my kilt was so long. The girls that I had seen walk passed my house in the afternoons didn't look the way I did that morning. None the less I was ready.I walked to the bus stop with butterflies dancing around in my stomach. I didn't know whether I would throw up before I got there, or if I would just pass out from anxiety. The bus ride seemed so long, but soon enough there I was. I stood outside of the building. It read, "Monsignor John Pereyma Catholic School." It seemed quite a bit smaller than what I had imagined, and so I proceeded inside.
My first day of grade nine was so nerve-racking. I remember having sweaty palms the whole morning, and couldn't even enjoy my big "first day of grade 9" breakfast my mom had made for me. I didn't know what to think having no older brothers or sisters that had gone before me. "Why did I have to be the oldest in the family" I thought to myself. If only I had a cousin or someone to break the ice for me. I was on my own. I got ready in my kilt and golf shirt and wondered why my kilt was so long. The girls that I had seen walk passed my house in the afternoons didn't look the way I did that morning. None the less I was ready.I walked to the bus stop with butterflies dancing around in my stomach. I didn't know whether I would throw up before I got there, or if I would just pass out from anxiety. The bus ride seemed so long, but soon enough there I was. I stood outside of the building. It read, "Monsignor John Pereyma Catholic School." It seemed quite a bit smaller than what I had imagined, and so I proceeded inside.As soon as I opened the doors all I saw were other kids, all looking familiarly awkward in their long un hemmed kilts. The look of excitement and worry was spread over everyone's face, and the dampness in the air made me relax as I knew I wasn't the only one with the sweaty palms. From then on I knew that I would be fine. I knew that high school would be just as fun as I had hoped. That I would make new friends, and keep the old ones.
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