The eleventh grade was a hard year for me. Actually, I think it is safe to say that it is a hard year for all students. Normal high school juniors face many pressures in life. Some must take and pass a graduation exam; others begin to approach their crossroads in life. What do I want to do after I graduate? What college do I want to apply to? Those are questions that a typical upperclassman thinks about. Four years ago, those were some of the last things going through my mind. I was not a typical upperclassman. 
	The year was 2006. August was half of the way completed and my family recently celebrated my mother’s birthday. My first semester as a junior in high school was just beginning. Despite the inevitable change of having to wake up at 7 A.M. for school (as opposed to sleeping in all summer long), my spirits were high. After all, my high school journey was almost over. Just one more year and I would be out in the real world. 
I started the sixteenth just like any weekday. I arrived to school thirty minutes early, sat down at an empty seat in our cafeteria, and opened a book to pass the time. This was one of my favorite times of the school day because it was a rare instance where the cafeteria was empty. The silence allowed me to concentrate on whatever task I wanted to get done. 
Still, my use of the word “favorite” should be taken lightly. For as long as I can remember, I never have enjoyed mornings. During those intervals, I always seemed to be so engrossed in reading a book that I often lost track of the time. That was my way of escaping reality. It was a cruel coincidence that my least favorite time of the day was the only time I was able to concentrate on reading.
 During mornings I rarely smiled. Actually, that statement could have described me the majority of the time I was at school. I didn’t exactly like school and I am sure it showed. 
Before long, my fellow started classmates trickling in one by one into the cafeteria. It regained the trademark clatter that I dreaded so much. It is accurate to say the distraction of a thousand different conversations all going on at once was another reason why I did not enjoy mornings. With all of that noise, I am not sure how anyone concentrated.		
All of the cafeteria’s tables began to fill to capacity. As every second passed, it became harder and harder to stay focused on my book. Looking back now, I wish that were the only distraction I faced on that day, but before the bell rang for us to go to class, the situation worsened. 
