A series of unfortunate events: sophomore year trevails

Coming off a freshman year spent largely at home because of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was more than excited to begin my true high school experience as a sophomore. 

In retrospect, I realize my second year of high school really felt like a freshman year — it was a new environment with different kinds of people around me. As a naturally clumsy teenage girl, I was bound to embarrass myself one way or another. I just didn’t realize how often that would occur.

Club Rush: 

On the day of sophomore year club rush, my AP Euro Renaissance project was due immediately after lunch, so I donned a skirt and formal-wear as I walked to the quad after the lunch bell rang. I made my way down the steps, the entire school packing the quad as they swarmed the various club tables in front of me like a frenzy of hungry seagulls on a beachside picnic. I remember thinking to myself, “Wouldn’t it be so funny if I fell right now?”

Lo and behold, I did. Just as I was contemplating what it would feel like to be stampeded by a horde of freshmen, the people around me started pushing and jostling me. Then I unfortunately skipped a step, leading me to almost  face-plant straight into the ground. 

My arm caught my fall and was dragged across the concrete, as people stepped on, over, and beside me. When I got up, my entire forearm was dripping in blood. 

As you can probably imagine, I wasn’t able to sign up for any clubs that day. 

Choking on swedish fish: 

As sophomore year neared its conclusion, I found myself nestled in the far corner of English teacher Megan Laws’ class as a normal period proceeded. One of my friends popped out his pack of Swedish Fish, and naturally, everyone went crazy trying to get a piece. After some pushing, I managed to secure one for myself. I immediately popped it in my mouth and chose not to chew it yet, trying to savor the taste.

Engrossed in a lively conversation with my friends, I gradually became aware of a peculiar sensation. Words began to elude me, and panic slowly took hold. Then it dawned on me — I had inadvertently swallowed the entire Swedish Fish. WHOLE.

In the midst of Mrs. Laws’ lesson, my throat rebelled, unleashing a torrent of violent coughs. To the oblivious onlookers, mainly the guys at my table, I must have appeared comically dramatic. Laughter filled the air as I struggled, gasping for breath.

My friends rushed to my side, handing me water to help clear my throat. Unfortunately, that only made it worse. I ran outside and started coughing up all the water I still drank, but the fish was still lodged in my throat.

Passersby peered through the window, their eyes fixed on me while my face turned beet-red. It took a relentless 15 minutes of running back and forth, alternating between sips of water and attempts to expel the Swedish Fish before it finally yielded. 

I haven’t dared to lay a finger on a Swedish Fish for nearly two years. They should really include a safety warning on the packaging.

The Great Desk Fiasco

Flashback to my AP Euro class. A seemingly normal day, the bell had just rung and I was talking to my classmates as I nonchalantly rested my hand on the desk in front of me. As I leaned on it, I felt the desk, which had a chair connected to it, slightly rock, but I dismissed it as an imbalance in the chair’s leg. But I was mistaken — there was NO bottom leg. 

The desk only had three legs, likely the reason why teacher Jerry Sheehy hadn’t assigned anyone to sit there. 

It’s little surprise what happened next. My leaning on the desk caused it to fall to the ground, and as it fell, the chair leg on the other side swept me off of the ground with the desk-chair. A loud BANG reverberated through the classroom as everyone looked to find my limbs tangled in the desk, my lunch thrown across the class, and my face turning tomato-red. 

“Are you OK? That noise almost gave me a heart attack!” Mr. Sheehy said. 

“I’m great!” I replied, my voice still emanating from the depths of the destroyed desk. 

Classmates helped me up while my friend tried to contain her laughter. 

It’s now two years later and I still double check to make sure the desk I sit at has four legs.