Freshman year was possibly one of the most awkward stages in my school career.

The two-semester year allowed for a period of transitioning and then a period of going with the flow. So, with a frown lined with braces, I, a stereotypical clueless freshman at the time, embarked on the journey to become a high school student.

Guided by my two older sisters’ somewhat-encouraging words about freshman year being manageable, I nonetheless braced myself for the absolute worst. I could not trust my sisters’ opinions because whatever my sisters said, it was the exact opposite for me. But, looking back now, they were right.

Accustomed to Redwood Middle School’s short periods, ending school at either 2:10 or 3:05, and my long naps during the previous summer, I struggled to adjust to 90-minute mind-numbing periods and finally being being trapped in class every other day until 3:45 because I was taking a seventh period.

So, like any other tired student, my eyes would constantly droop halfway and my head would ever so slightly nod off through a lecture, and it was only when school went into full swing and sleep schedules began to stabilize that I started to doze off a little less.

Other than adjusting to new schedules, my worst problem was talking to people. It sounds silly, but, for someone whose voice goes up about two octaves when talking to teachers and whose hands shake when attempting to communicate with other students, the act of holding an actual conversation or presenting something in front of a class is highly challenging.

Getting to know people and actually working with others represented the majority of my struggles. I would constantly be under the “group project” curse, in which most of the projects and assignments would be pushed onto me because I would never assertively object to receiving a large workload.

But possibly the worst part of first semester in freshman year was the sleep-depriving combo of dead week and finals week. Unsure of the proper way to prepare, I barely survived through such accumulated stress, even to the extent where I felt extremely nauseous and threw up after my P.E. final (it also didn't help that the workout was a harsh 18 minutes long).

So, after two measly weeks of absolute freedom and trying to erase the terrible downward spiral of my first finals week, I created the idea in my head that I would do better in terms of school work and managing my time during second semester.

I undoubtedly lied to myself. My blissful hope for second semester was far from reality; however, parts of this second half of school felt much more relaxing, and thinking back, my second semester as a freshman was much more enjoyable than that of first semester.

With my awkwardness and shyness attempting to fade away, I was able to actually talk to my peers and teachers comfortably.

I know. What an achievement.

Second semester felt more natural. I was able to understand when to ask for help from teachers rather than sitting in a corner and moping about knowing nothing. I knew who my classmates were and no longer called out to them with “Hey! You over there!”

While of course some classes became harder, at least spring semester was, and still is, separated with the glorious one-week breaks in February and April for me to sleep in countless hours.

But then again, I would never miss my spring semester as a freshman, nor would I miss fall semester. Everything about freshman year clumped into one huge ball of uneventful and publicly embarrassing moments. Perhaps it will be heartwarming when I become much older, but now, I’d rather not reminisce about it.