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Grade 7, April 2014

Ever since Mr. Simmons started talking about Quebec at the beginning of the year I had been determined to go.

“It’s the chance of a lifetime.” The words were constantly repeated by teachers, parents and even my friends.

The words rung in my head, haunting my dreams and shadowing my every move. The chance of a lifetime – a trip to Quebec – a five hour flight across the country, further than I had every been away from my home. The trip was to be 8 days, longer than I had ever been away from my parents. I was a rather sheltered child, always very close to my parents, literally and figuratively. I was terrified. But I was still determined to go.

Our class had a meeting once a week to discuss plans for the trip. We arranged payments, itineraries and hotel arrangements. Every week everyone got more and more excited and each week II got more and more worried. Why was I doing this? What was going to happen?

My parents did everything they could to mrake it better. I had been struggling with anxiety for some time but during those months leading up to the trip it got significantly worse. We got books out the library, my parents went to seminaries but we eventually decided that I should see the school counsellor. At this point, I was so worried that even this made me nervous.

As I walked down the hall to her office my stomach turned flips that even an Olympic gymnast would have been envious of. Mrs. Barnes, the counsellor, was nicer than I thought and I surprised that I managed to talk to her. I went to her office once a week for about an hour, but it did help. I soon felt slightly more confident in going to Quebec. Even the principal pulled me into his office to tell me that everything was going to be okay. All the teachers rallied round to help me get through the trip. I was reassured by them, but still nervous.

April was fast approaching and I was only slightly less nervous. But not by much.  Well, that is until we reached the day of our flight. My parents had conveniently forgotten to tell me that my friend’s parents would be taking me to the airport instead of them. This did nothing to make me feel better. I had barely slept the night before and that, combined with us having to get up at 4am, meant that I was really out of it.

They arrived to pick me up at 4:30 and we were soon on our way to the airport. I was so stressed that I barely talked on the long ride to the airport.

When we arrived about an hour later, my teacher and the principal were already there, waiting by the Air Canada check in desk. We checked our bags and wandered blearily to the Tim Hortons to buy some breakfast. By 6am we were through security and waiting in the lounge, ready to board the plane. My friends chattered excitedly, giggling and smiling, ready for a big adventure. I was nervous and could barely eat my bagel.

“Boarding announcement for Air Canada flight 765 to Quebec.” The automatic voice boomed through the airport, bringing a wave of excitement with it. Practically bouncing with excitement, our group gathered our bags and made our way to the plane. Soon we were seated, waiting nervously for the plane to take off. I ignored the mounting anxiety in my stomach by chattering light-heartedly to my friends. I was actually excited! It was going to be fun! There was so much to do: ghost tours, churches, museums and of course, poutine. Our schedule was packed. We were just discussing plans for tomorrow when the plane lurched into action. My stomach lurched with it. I was never good with planes, especially without my parents. I kept my eyes shut during takeoff, absolutely terrified. Luckily for me, my friends were a great comfort, reassuring me it was going to be okay.

We were nearly there, 30 minutes away, when we hit turbulence. The plane bobbed wildly and I started sobbing; visions of the plane crumpling into the ground flashing through my brain. I was a mess. Even the class bully asked if I was okay.

I survived. When we landed we stumbled blearily onto the bus and, eventually, into the hotel. The lobby was tiny and we were packed like sardines in a can while keys were distributed.

The next eight days passed in a whirlwind and in no time at all we were on the bus to the airport. I received an award for bravery. I was forced to admit, I had had fun.

We returned home that night to balloons and smiling faces. As I lay in bed that night I realized that worrying makes things seem worse than they are.

What I did well: I am quite proud of this essay and think I did quite well. One thing I really liked was my sentence fluency and literary devices.

What I think I can improve: One thing I can do better for next time would be to trim more of the “dead wood”, as it is quite long and wordy.