Hoover 1

Grace Hoover

Debora Jizi

UWRT 1103

18 February 2018

A Time of Change

Middle School is commonly stereotyped as a difficult time for all children. And in this

case for me, it was no different. My middle school was a completely new school having only

come to my town a year before. This school was an International Baccalaureate school,

essentially a magnet school. It was supposed to challenge the young students and teach them to

be well rounded leaders who were smart and diligent in all that they do. At least that was the

theory of what this school was. They wanted to be so prestigious that 5th graders had to even

apply to get in to this school.

Picture this, a young fifth grader who has always been good at school excitedly working

on the application for this school. This small application, it was a one-sided piece of paper, had a

few basic tell me about yourself questions, what grades did you get, just simple questions like

that. You even needed a recommendation for this application. Luckily this small happy go lucky

student got in. This student new nothing of this new school but she thought it would be better

exponentially than her alternative. This alternative was the school that her brother and sister went

to that had green and khaki uniforms and a ridiculous lack of administration. It was a problem

school that had made news at least a couple times. This fifth grader, with her innocent blue eyes

and long, golden hair, thought that even this new school that she knew nothing about would be

better than the alternative which was a decrepit and sorry excuse of a school. Little did she know,
 Hoover 2

this was a big mistake. I, the innocent blue-eyed child with the long golden hair, had just made

one of the biggest mistakes that would severely shape my entire future.

When I got to this school, I had to learn all about the lay out of this foreign terrain. This

was a small school next to the DVM of the town and only a few blocks from the YMCA. It was

right outside of downtown. The school itself was tiny. The program was thrown into an

elementary school building that had been out of use for a year or two prior. This meant that

several classrooms even had those bathrooms in the room for kindergarteners. Half of the classes

were tossed into mega-unit trailers that were placed outside. There was no proper gym either.

Just one room that was a gym, cafeteria, and an auditorium. What made this little school even

smaller was the fact that grades 6-10 were all located in this former elementary school. This

school was quite a change from the bleak prison-like choice that my family was used to. My

middle school was covered in quirky painted murals all over the cracking cinder block walls.

This middle school was also different in its amount of work given to students. To most

students it felt like you had 8 hours of homework all due yesterday, especially as the grades

progressed. My first year wasn’t very bad in terms of work and grades. I was still coasting off of

my elementary success. However, there was one teacher. As she was putting in grades for end of

the year, she chose not to round up my grade in her class knowing I had A’s in all my other

classes. My grade was a 92 and some change. This was technically a B. This teacher looked me

dead in the innocent blue eyes and told me her reasoning; I should get a B sometime in my life.

If she just gave it to me then I would never learn, and it would seem like things were always

handed to me. This one B, this one small B that was so short from an A, would make my parents

wary of my grades for the rest of my public-school career. If any grades slipped I was

immediately not living to my potential and I was simply lazy. But this wasn’t the case.
 Hoover 3

Also, in this first year at this strange new school, like most teens, I hit puberty. Strange

new chemicals, strange new school, a huge amount of new I was being faced with.

Unfortunately, these new chemicals wrecked the careful balance of the chemicals already

present. Although I didn’t know what depression was, I began to slowly start exhibiting

symptoms of this mental illness. It’s only looking back in life I can truly pinpoint that this new

school and the onset of puberty as the start of my depression. My depression, that is the one thing

that affects me beyond others and has truly made me who I am today. My depression is what

caused all the other traumatic events in my life that weathered down deep creases into my soul

and truly shaped my mentality of present day.

Peer Feedback - UWRT 1103- Jizi-Spring 2018

Date: _____2-19-18_______________________

Reader’s Name ______Jason Ellisor______________

Writer’s Name______Grace Hoover________________

Three Step Response

1. Velcro Words/Phrases
“Luckily this small happy go lucky student got in”
“the alternative which was a decrepit and sorry excuse of a school”
“The school itself was tiny”
“the bleak prison-like choice that my family was used to”
“I should get a B sometime in my life.”
“If any grades slipped I was immediately not living to my potential and I was simply lazy”
“Although I didn’t know what depression was, I began to slowly start exhibiting symptoms of
this mental illness.”
“weathered down deep creases into my soul”
 Hoover 4

2. Feelings
Anxious
Disgusted
Disappointed
Sad
Wary
Troubled
Empathy

3. Questions
Why was the first paragraph in the passive voice?
Why were your parents so harsh about your grades?
Did anyone not notice the depression you were displaying?
Why did you stay at that school?
Why didn’t you challenge the teacher?
Do you blame the teacher for all the problems that you have encountered because of this incident?

Criterion-Based Response

Highlight examples of each of the four elements of the personal essay using the following colors:

Personal presence of the author

An engagement between self and the world

The Author’s Exploration and Self-Discovery

The Need to Both Show and Tell

 Hoover 5

You can access details about Peer Feedback in this Google Presentation.

Copy and paste this document to the bottom of the essay you are reading and then upload when you
have completed the peer review as directed by Canvas.