Essay "Numero Uno"

Every day people go through different experiences that alter their way of thinking, interacting. These experiences can even modify their perspective of the world around them. As a child, ever since the first day that I attended school, I was an ideal student; hard working, competitive, confident, and smart. I had always made school a priority; I was always determined to be the best in all I did. By no means did I ever accept anything less than the best from myself, demanding constantly nothing else other than perfection. This approach towards school remained with me until I was about thirteen years old in the eighth grade of junior high when my inner demons began to emerge from within, yearning for freedom.

At first it was ditching class occasionally, turning in an assignment late, and verbal aggressiveness towards others. The eighth grade turned out to be not much more than an uncomplicated and effortlessly overcome bump in the road. But this “bump” was only a condensed appetizer to what was to come in my first year at Rio Mesa high school. The year started out the same for me as for any other student, as I attended my classes I was introduced to the new teachers, was given a quick overview of the course objectives, and made several new acquaintances. So the first semester went by without hardly any notice. I had adjusted myself quite well to high school. The “demons” made their presence early in the first fraction of the second semester.

The predicaments which I had found myself involved in eighth grade had completely developed into frequent ditching, rarely turning in assignments, and constantly engaging in brawls with whoever would, for one reason or another, enrage me. The fighting was the result of the most dreadful behavioral change that had developed or to be precise surfaced from within me, my inability to control my anger. This proved to be a constant dilemma with more than a few detentions, trips to the office, and suspensions. Adding to that was the fact that I ( trying not to brag as I’m not precisely proud of my past actions) was pretty darn good when it came to a clean fist fight and could easily hold my own against any one rival or opponent. This ability to “get down”(slang for fighting) elevated my confidence and arrogance to the point that at times I would just fight to prove to myself and my fellow peers that I wouldn’t be beaten. I got to the point that I came to challenge the wrong people.

 The biggest was called “Oso”, Spanish for bear. He was easily at the very least six feet tall, had a shaven head, diminutive eyes, and as his nickname suggest had a vast and hefty bulky build. The others were similar to “Oso”; they were “Ezequiel”, “Giant”, and “Little Giant” all three heavily built or maybe just fat, slightly shorter than him and had their heads unshaven. All four dressed similarly, wearing typically dark pants usually black or blue, long sleeve striped shirts buttoned all the way to the top, and regularly also wearing layers of clothing which only added to their already imposing size. They were the predominant gang members, within the school, from the local gang in El Rio, where Rio Mesa high school happens to be smack in the middle of nowhere surrounded by strawberry fields. Out of these four I only had the misfortune of crossing paths with “Little  Giant”, who wasn’t at all little and happened to be”Giant’s” brother. The other three had been incarcerated for apparently stabbing a rival gang member. Anyway, fighting “Little Giant” turned out to be an immense mistake, for his imposing size made it quite complicated for me to scarcely inflict any damage, while the hits he inflicted upon me I still remember. However this was merely an introduction to the next nuisance I was to face.

Thursday, at lunch time at school, I was hanging out with some friends in the usual spot next to my fifth period science class, which I was to attend after lunch, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a rather large group of suspects approaching. It was roughly about half a dozen of them and they weren’t exactly very gracious looking especially towards myself. Stupidly I went out, like a rooster before a fight, to face them and surprisingly enough, only one out of the group came up to me. He had a black hat, a gray long sleeve shirt, and black jeans. His facial expression wasn’t in the least welcoming; his eyes looked at me with the fury of a tornado almost as if to tear me apart. Then after some dim-witted remark he made towards me I hastily and recklessly let a fury of well aimed hits towards him. I hit him twice in the face the first hit directly at his nose which automatically made his head lunge backwards. The second hit him in the jaw almost instantly dropping him to the ground. As he began to pick himself up I saw the extension of the damage that I had dealt to him. He covered his nose with his right hand trying to cover the blood which had already engulfed it, while his jaw was as red as a ripe tomato. Then the unexpected happened, as I turned around bathing in glorious victory one his companions lunged at me. He nearly missed the back of my head and almost as if synchronized another half a dozen came at me. For a moment I froze in what I can most closely recall as fright.  Snapping out of it, I swung a couple of aimless hits in desperate hopes of halting my aggressors. My situation now was discouraging for I was outnumbered, as my “friends” decided not to get involved. By mere god-sent coincidence, a school employee passing by came to my aid before I was pummeled to a bloody pulp by these attackers. Just like roaches they swiftly scattered and blended in with the rest of the students out at lunch. Only I was taken away to the office to await the consequences of the incident that had happened.

There I sat alone in a room that was all too familiar now. There were a couple of chairs situated in front of a large brown desk with a chair behind that, a bookshelf with a diverse selection of books alongside several decorations, pictures, and photographs, and a couple of old apparently unwashed large windows on the opposite side. I was in the principal’s office once more. This not being the first I had been there I knew what to expect. My parents would be called; I would be lectured halfway to death, followed by a couple days suspension. The principal had become all but too predictable I thought to myself. This was not to be the case though. As misfortune would have it the principal wasn’t there that Thursday and instead I would have to deal with the assistant principal who wasn’t very fond of me. So I sat alongside my father, who was boiling furious, while he had a short but decisive discussion with the assistant principal. She determined, upon my resplendently bad school record, that it be best if I were out of the school permanently. My father sturdily disagreed but there was nothing he could do about it. I was to be expelled on the grounds that my being within that school had caused too many troubles and my previous history of violence had caused this consequence to be long overdue.

Upon my expulsion I continued school through independent study. This was much easier than regular school; I met my teacher once a week collected work, completed it, turned it in, and took a weekly test. Being able to work more or less at my own pace I managed to finish my work rather quickly giving me an abundance of spare time. Spare time which promoted and facilitated my reflection upon the course of actions that I had taken and what I could do to change myself in order to be a better person.

Being expelled from high school made me think of that child that I once was, that child who put nothing else above his priorities. It also made me think of how proud that child’s parents were, of what I had become, of how I coveted that child’s mindset to return. Since then I have once again taken a look at my priorities in life and how only through hard work, determination, self control and, discipline anyone can achieve any aspiration they have in life, always taking into consideration lessons learned from past experiences.