I wasn’t That Bad

Formerly, when we get encouragement to go to school from our parents to learnt some new knowledge, people may have some memories about earlier they learnt English. So do I.

When I was a kid, just nine years old, I learnt English just for formal value, basically. My teacher taught Us this language of the west for something purpose that my peers didn’t understand for what. But I’m kinda interested about this subjects that little bit foreign to me—in literally meaning. So I’m trying not to be affected by poor motivation that my friends spread out. The teacher always like me because I’m the enthusiastic student in the class. In every daily task I got good grade and after that, there is always friends who are ready to copy the results of my work. I think it was cool.

Eventually, I getting bored with those slackers. So I tell em to pay me for every cheat they got from me or I will scream out em to the teacher because get look over my paper.  Taking that into consideration, some of them are paying me and the others stop cheating on my answers. The money is enough for me to buy more ice and candy, I really like it. Until the final exam of the semester I still did that, but I’m still the champion. First ranked again.

Until I get moved out from that elementary school because my father job also moved to work elsewhere. My  parents bring me too because they don’t wanna get us stay apart. My mother also didn’t want to leave me live with others without her supervision. Anyway, I used to be her favorite child. Inevitably I had to go even though I know I will start all over again. new friends, new environment, new school—the last option is connotatively—and everything will be a new experience for me.

There is only memories that I’ve about all my old friends, because no guarantee we can meet each other again one day. All of them are good friends to me.

And if you think I was a bad kid, maybe not as bad as you think.