Chapter 2: Teachers: Miss Celis

Isabel Celis, also known by Miss Celis. She's been the only teacher that has been by our side these 6 years. From the very beginning she's been quite strict. I guess it's a good thing, but back then, when high school was a really new scary thing for us, that was kind of terrible. But if I have to give her an adjective, it'd be absent-minded. Who can't remember her saying “where have I put my glasses?” or keys, or books, or papers... She's also funny. We laugh a lot in class.

If something about her has marked our lives, it's her “red cards”. We couldn't talk in Spanish in her lessons, but anyway, we did. Our punishment was that red card, which basically meant extra homework. We stopped speaking Spanish. It wasn't worth it. Doing tons of homework at home wasn't very funny.

Her lessons are different. We don't usually do the same. We can do some exercises from the book, but we also read news on the net. We do some listenings and readings. We have also done some lyric's songs. In my opinion, we learn a lot. Speaking just in English has improved our listening and speaking skills.

Miss Celis is a very active teacher. Although she isn't paid for all the things she does – She keeps telling us that.- she's the whole time organizing something new for the school. She prepared our trip to Wales and that fantastic week called WYSC and the exchange with The Perse School. She made possible the impossible. At the beginning, almost half of the class couldn't go to Cambridge because there weren't enough host families, but she managed to find a solution so... we finally made it!

Personally, she has had an influence on me. She has helped me when things hadn't been good. She worries about her students. She has supported me with my writing, and I cannot be grateful enough. She's a wonderful teacher and a fantastic person. We, the bilingual group, have been lucky to have her by our side. I don't think we'd be the same group without her, because in the end she's been our tutor all along.

After these 6 years we'll never forget her “Sorry, but life is hard”.

Chapter 1: My Earliest Memory

I can still remember my first day. Maybe not the whole thing, but the beginning. I'm glad I can. My first year, generally speaking, is a bit blurry, yet this memory is clear in my head and I easily replay it in my head. I feel like it happened yesterday.

15^th September, 2007. My first day at high school. I was worried, like any other kid. I felt old - Even though I can tell that I wasn't-  but not ready. I had the feeling that this new building meant a new life, and I was happy with my former one. I liked my school, and friends. I didn't mind not going out until late. I didn't mind being a little girl. I've never wanted to grow up fast. So in that moment, when I went into that small, old, white building, everything changed. It was my first breaking point at life. It was a big step. I wasn't a child anymore, but a teenager.

I cannot really remember the classroom, because in the end it's not the place but the people what makes the first impression. We had to sit by our surname. I knew some people from my school, but none of them were my friends. I knew their faces and names, but not their story. So there, in the middle of the classroom, confused and scared, was a girl that happened to be me. I sat next to a girl that was really tall. I'm quite small, so she looked to me way older. I was nervous. I wanted to make friends easily. I wanted to be accepted. As if life was a puzzle and we need to find a place to fit.

She looked at me, with those  honest  big brown eyes, and smiled at me. She was as scared as me. It may look stupid, but I just said “It is hot today, isn't it?”. It was the wittiest sentence I could say. She smiled, glad that I talked. And we became friends. With that stupid sentence. Carmen. I haven't seen her in 3 years, but that's another story.

Elena Morillo García 2ºBarchillerato A