Sophia Henninger Descriptive Essay

Sophia Henninger

Copper – English

September 23, 2010

Growing up in Roxborough wasn’t always the easiest thing for me. Constantly ridiculed at school, home, and in between. More than once I got off the bus to go home with tears on my face only to be greeted by more words and events that would replace the old tears on my cheeks. I remember so many instances of this.

“Eskimo! Eskimo!”  The eighth graders chanted on the disgusting, sticky, school bus. I just sat on the floor and bawled as if a beloved pet had died. They were calling me this because of the hat I donned on my head. It was tan and furry with gold thread periodically mixed in. The earflaps were my favorite part because they were fuzzy on both sides. “That hat is so ugly, but I guess it matches your face.” I heard a boy say. With tears still flowing from my eyes I looked to meet his face just as he ripped the hat off my head and got off the bus with it. He proceeded to throw it into a gutter on his street. He looked back at me in the foggy window of the dirty bus and smiled, his perfectly clear eyes met my red-rimmed, bloodshot ones and not an ounce of guilt or regret showed on his face.

Another instance was when I had to sit in the seat less section on the school bus. The floor was black, sticky, and covered in hundreds of unidentifiable substances. I don’t even know what I did to provoke them this time but I do remember hearing one boy say to a classmate, “Dude, watch this..”

I turned to see what he was talking about and he was looking at me. He wanted to talk to me. He asked basic questions like how was I and what class I was in. I thought this was the end of being teased.  I was filled with so much hope; I was excited for the future. I thought of how I might be able to get on the bus and smile and giggle like the other girls my age did with their friends. Just then, my dreams of peace were shattered; he grabbed my legs and started to lift them up. I panicked and grabbed the back of the seat in front of me. I screamed and cried and kicked. I clung to seat in front of me as though if let go I’d fall to my demise. The boy just lifted my legs higher and higher until I was horizontal. I felt like it lasted forever. Finally he yelled, “Stop screaming, you baby.” And dropped me. My knees clashed with the sticky floor. Little splashes of red now accenting my already dirty knees. The eighth graders just laughed at me as I ran to front of the bus. I’d never felt so much shame or humiliation in my life.

But after everyday of torment I still woke up the next day hopeful. Still looking forward to making friends and laughing with them. I still tried to be nice and make friends with people even when the day before they were the ones that made me cry. I was relentlessly hopeful and optimistic, always cheery and excited.

Even when the problem followed me right off the school bus and into my home.

“Sophie! We have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.” My brother, Gabe, and my sister, Betsy, cooed as they directed me down the hallway. I was so excited. I loved surprises! I was thinking of all the cool things it might be. A new toy, or game, a warm set of mittens and a hat, maybe even a puppy might be waiting for me! Whatever it was, it was bound to be great. I was tingling with anticipation while I tiptoed the creaking wooden floorboards while guided arm in arm by my two closest siblings. A mere seconds later I heard, “Hey, Lou! Is it ready?”

“Yeah, bring her closer.” Lou, the eldest, whispered to Gabe. OH! It was so close, the surprise! The possibilities ran through my head again and my excitement grew exponentially. “You ready, Soph?”, his question was answered by a hurried head nod, “Okay, open your eyes…. Now!”

“…AAAAHHHHHHHHH!” I ran, screaming bloody murder and sobbing to stairs. What had greeted me wasn’t spectacular or marvelous in any way. It wasn’t a new toy or accessory or pet. No, it was a crab shell with its face only centimeters from mine. From the staircase I could hear rolling laughter coming from all three of my siblings.

 It lasted only a few moments but that scene of memory still burns in my mind when I think of my childhood. Of course, now that story is one told at family parties and everyone laughs, including me. That along with all the other scenes of my childhood, clear or hazy, funny or horrifying, good or bad, make up who I am today. Without these experiences I wouldn’t have learned some of life’s biggest lessons, such as: not to be naive, to stand up for myself, to deal with bullies, to forgive, and to forget.

In an odd way I have to thank the people that made me cry on a daily basis in grade school, the people that didn’t acknowledge my existence until 8^th grade, and the siblings that made sure I knew I was omega. Because without them I wouldn’t be the confident, outspoken, silly, rough-around-the-edges girl that we’ve all come to know and love.