I cower in fear as I am getting yelled at. I scan the room to try and find a possible escape route. I see all my classmates pale faces and nervous auras glowing off of them. Every word of the volunteer’s loud voice startles me. Why am I getting yelled? I didn’t do anything wrong, I think to myself.  “I’m going to get Ms. Luchtefeld,” the volunteer says.

My heart drops and possibly skips a beat. The sun shines through the window next to a blue painted wooden desk into my face showing the tears streaming down my face, which causes me to blush out of embarrassment.
The second she leaves the library, I can see fear in everyone’s eyes. Her shoes tap against the tiles as she walks to the library. The anticipation of her walking into the room is horrible, I think to myself. The shadow of Ms. Luchtefeld figure creeps closer and closer to the doorway, and finally she steps in the room. Ms. Luchtefeld starts off with the worst words an adult could ever say,

“I’m disappointed in you guys… I’m sorry to say this, but everyone here is going to lunch buddies,”¬¬¬¬ Ms. Luchtefeld says. The tears stream down my face faster. I faintly hear cries and whimpers from my classmates trying to act cool in front of their friends.

“Let’s go back to class then, since you guys can’t behave well enough,” Ms. Luchtefeld says. We stand up and mope out into the hallway. Listening to other kids giggling and learning in their classroom’s. “Can anyone tell me what the square root of 64 is?” I hear from an unfamiliar voice. Probably a volunteer I think to myself.

Later that afternoon when we walk into the classroom, we all know what is best. We have to be nice to the new kid and tell Ms. Luchtefeld that he didn’t take part is this problem. So we huddle around in a circle and did a vote on who was going to tell Ms. Luchtefeld. I don’t want to be picked, I don’t want to be picked, I think to myself. The anxiousness flows through my body until we decide on whom to pick. “Eli!” Patrick said.

I do an imaginary sigh of relief for not being picked. Eli walks up to Ms. Luchtefeld’s desk preparing himself for a possibility of being accused of lying. “Um, Ms. Luchtefeld…” he pauses waiting nervously for her to stop talking with another student

“Yes Elias.” Ms Luchtefeld said. 
“Not all of us were talking, Phil wasn’t talking.”
“Are you sure?” Ms. Luchtefeld said.

“I’m positive,” Eli whispers. One hour later, lunch time arrives. I walk through the doors into the lunch room, looking at all the hungry and happy kids going to get lunch and sitting down with all their friends. Why did I have to go to lunch buddies? I think in my head. I sluggishly walk through the line, grab my lunch, and walk over to the lunch buddies table looking at all the other students having a great time and enjoying their lunch. At least there are other people who were in lunch buddies with me, I think to myself.

I plop myself down on the table with all the boys except for Phil. It feels like everybody from the other classes is looking at me. I try to not make eye contact with anybody, but I fail when Deacon Brooks looks at all of us and gives a lecture on respecting volunteers and how the little man is always watching so be careful. I think back to the library and how I should of escaped while I could, then I wouldn’t have to be in this mess and I could be talking with all my friends and go outside for recess.

After revisiting this horrible memory I realized how we learn through our problems. We should not have talked A LOT without permission. At the time I didn’t realize this, but seven years later I know to be more respectful and obedient to adults but not only adults everyone.