Chapter 2
Kendall
   For some kids, school might be where you can escape home problems. I get it, school can be a safe place, when things aren't feeling safe elsewhere. But when my home life started to get worse and worse, school was the last place I wanted to be. I never really knew why I got bullied by my classmates, I just did.
   I sat at my small desk doing the crafts my mother had brought in for us. My mom had always tried to be involved in my school life, so one day she came in as a guest to make art with my class. We all had a great time, gluing things, coloring things, all activities second graders enjoy.
   When it was time for her to leave, I was hysterical. I cried and cried but no one knew the real reason why. My teacher assumed that I wanted attention from my mother, and that I was an attention seeking kid. But she was wrong. I cried because I didn't want her to leave me here, she couldn't leave me with these kids. I got bullied by a bunch of boys in my class. They would point and laugh, and I never really found the reason. I know what you're thinking: it couldn't have been that bad, I was in second grade! But my world in second grade came crashing down as my classmates tormented me.
   That same night, my mom read me my favorite book called Chrysanthemum, a book about self esteem and bullying. I couldn't hold back the tears as she read the book aloud. She was taken by surprise when I started crying, but she comforted me, even though she didn't realize what was wrong. That night I told her what was happening to me.
   My teacher apologized to my mother, and with that, everything seemed to be forgotten. But I was still bullied.
   It took a while to build up the courage to ignore it and not let it change how I see myself. When I didn't give in anymore, the bullies stopped. I cant help but wonder if that's why I now have a tendency to be mean. Who knew, that just a few years later I would turn into the bully.
   As I said before: my world shattered, and it felt like I had to put it back together piece by piece.

                                 ♡♡♡
Maya~
          For some reason as long as I can recall all kids hated school.  Everyone had their reasons, for example, some kids hated doing the work, some kids didn't have many friends,some were bullied, and some kids just were having a hard time at home.  However I never really met someone like me who actually liked going to school, funny right, a kid who actually likes to do school work.

        When I was about 5 years old I had been already attending pre-k in a catholic school in Queens with my sister, who was eight years older than me.Having her around was great because whenever I was sad I would just ask my teacher to call her classroom so she'd get out of class and come see me.  Sometimes she would look annoyed about going, but at the end of the day she'd always tell me how she was happy I called her to get out of class.  Besides having my sister around at school I had a decent amount of friends at school.  During playtime I remember my friend Ashley and I would love to play with dolls or just joke about our Hispanic families.  I thought my life at school would stay at that catholic school forever, but I was wrong.
       
         Once the school year ended my parents had announced that we would be moving to the suburbs for a few reasons.  The two main reasons was for a better area for my siblings and I to grow up in, followed by the problem with not having enough rooms in the apartment for all of us. So that summer, just around my birthday, we moved into a beautiful house in the summer that I thought would be my forever home, but life had other plans for my family.  

      The area was very different from what I was use to and I barely knew anyone, it was hard to adjust to,but soon enough I would be just fine.  I soon gained a few friends and felt happy, I felt as if nothing strange was going on at home.  School took me away from my worries at home for a brief moment, and I'm glad I had my own little escape.