Beauty Queen

Essay by My_nameIs_JaniceA+, May 2006

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I am 9 years old and already bored with life in general, every one of my friends had already chosen wonderful things to do with themselves for the rest of forever. Anne wanted to be a vet and save lives all the time. Crystal was going to be a star soccer player and Becky was planning on being the president of her own brand-new country. I had no idea. I come home from school after a hard day filled with long division and fourth grade boys, who spent all three recesses chasing us and piling wood chips in our hair, stilling our lip-gloss and spitting in the drinking fountain (while my friends and I waited patiently for our turn to take a drink.)

I dug in my new, pink, roller back-pack to find my crumpled homework papers that always reminded me of the seemingly never ending workload forced upon children who should be running and playing, but instead copying spelling words so many times it was a known fact that by the time I made it to middle school my hand would fall off for sure.

The papers accumulated every day only getting worse as the semester progressed. One can only learn so much about dead inventors and the like before showing signs of insanity.

They teach us a lot about God in Sunday school, (School on the weekend? Even the church was out to get me!) Mrs. Tall lady, or whatever her name was, always said, "Praying will only help you." It never helped before. I always found wishing on stars and reading the papers in fortune cookies more effective. Well, as I looked down at the sunshine yellow paper I now held tight with both hands I guess you could say I had a religious epiphany. No...