I walked into my History class with a pile of papers on my desk that had the words “Personal Project Ideas” printed at the top. My classmates were busy chatting about their first week of school and didn’t notice the stack at all. I was left to ponder about what a Personal Project was and what was mine going to be about. I was new to this system and had no idea what was going on, but since nobody was willing to help and didn’t know themselves what was going on, I was on my own.
The idea of a “personal project” never even crossed my mind when I was back in France, flipping through different brochures about high school that I would attend the next school year. As I was thought about what my life was going to be like in the 7 months I would invest into this topic, the bell rung and an ecstatic teacher burst into the room with a big smile on her face. Her face almost exceeded the sun’s shine, which could be too bright on a Monday morning altogether. She rushed her introduction with us and began pulling up a powerpoint that lit up the screen in bright colors contrasting to the many moods of the high school students in the room. Ironically, the slides with the information seemed more excited about this project than the whole sophomore class.
The powerpoint was filled with a lot of information that stressed me out even though the smile on her face told me not to worry, because it was due in a few months. She said this as the grading policy for this project showed up on the powerpoint making everyone’s mood drop faster than my excitement about school. I was completely fine until that point. My life flashed before my eyes; I didn’t know what I just signed myself up for. Every couple of slides made my stomach flip as I bit my nails anxiously. I got even more nervous when I glanced at the ecstatic kid next to me who wouldn’t stop asking persistent questions. He was the only one in a room full of gloomy kids, that was participating or seemed to care what the teacher was saying.
Finally the powerpoint was finished and I looked around to see the majority of my classmates sharing the same blank expression. I began talking to my classmate next to me who had annotated the stack of papers that were on her desk completely and looked so sure of what she was going to do. I knew I had to find a topic soon, but I didn’t know where to begin or what grabbed my interest. Everything on the paper seemed to bore me and the guidelines made me hate even the smallest idea. As I was contemplating my creative abilities, the persistent questioning kid began talking to the teacher in charge of this project and began describing his finished project which he did over the summer, which made me question my abilities. Every intelligent and composed sentence that came out of his mouth made me uneasy as I pictured the restless nights that were coming in the near future. He spoke as if he stressed or wasn’t scared for the inevitable downfall of his friends or classmates. The first thing I did was look up Personal Project images when I got home and took a long nap in hopes that it was all a dream. My topic would either come to me in a dream or I would have had a really good nap. Neither actually happened.
Thanks Personal Project.