I walk out of the school building at 3:00 like usual after a tiring day of school. I start my trudge home as the New York snow begins to fall. I could feel it landing on my head. Why didn’t I bring a hat, I asked myself. I knew it was going to snow but I didn’t feel like digging one out of the closet. I get to the corner of 5th and Lexington and can see the tall skyscraper where my school was located towering above me. Normally kids go to a traditional red brick school in the suburbs, but not me. Ever since I was four, my parents wanted me to be one step above everyone else in terms of my education. So from an early age I have attended Manhattan School for the Gifted and Talented (MSGT). I feel as if I’m trapped. Trapped in a building where the only thing the students and teachers care about is how much learning there is. The school day starts at eight o’clock and ends at three, but in that time there is no time to socialize, no time to run around and dispose of the building energy inside of us. All that happens is learning. Learning and more learning.

The first day I attended MSGT was in second grade. My family had moved from Pennsylvania for my mom’s job. My parents searched high and low for a school that met their standards. Finally, after a month of searching, they found MSGT. It didn’t matter to my parents that we had to take a loan against our house just to pay the enormous tuition. And mainly, it wasn’t important to them if I liked it or not. On the first day, I waited patiently for sixth hour to come. Lunch. It finally came. My brain was about ready to explode from the intake of all the rules presented to us. I stood in the lunch line and six minutes later reached the front. A man behind the counter asked me for my name. I stated my name: Alex Turner and continued in the line. As I started to move a long the man told me to come back. He handed me a slip of paper and instructed me to complete it. It was a word problem. I looked at the man with a puzzled look on my face, about ready to ask him “Sir, are you sure you shouldn’t be teaching math not lunch,” but I didn’t. I stood there thinking for about 90 seconds and then finally found the right answer. He assured me that it was correct and told me to proceed in the lunch line. Later that year I later found out that they present a word problem at lunch the first day of every year to make sure you kept your brain sharp over the summer. Since the food at my last school wasn’t fantastic, I wasn’t expecting a “gourmet meal” per say. My tray stopped at the first lunch lady who delicately placed a very nicely sized chicken on my plate followed by mashed potatoes. I sat down and started to eat it. It was amazing! I quickly devoured it, finishing every last crumb. I sat at the table with an empty plate and eager to run around at recess. I remained antsy until a teacher dismissed our table. She then led us to another room. The room had a placard on the door that read, “recess room.” There were 24 desks in a grid formation and we all sat down. Once we were all seated, the teacher placed a stack of 5 sheets on each of our desks. They were all math word problems. 60 of them! I thought I was going to loose my mind, but I didn’t. I completed it without showing any anger. I figured I should keep an open mind on the first day of school. 30 minutes later, we proceeded to our next class where more rules were covered pertaining to that class.

I thought that day was never going to end. I thought I was never going to hear the dismissal bell ring. I went home that day and upon being asked what happened at school by my parents, I simply answered, “nothing.” I love my parents to death, but there are some areas of my life that they simply overwork. School is one of them. I guess in a sense I should be honored that they would go through so much trouble just to make sure my education is superior.

I still remember that first day as if it was yesterday. I’m now on 3rd Avenue and decide to walk into my favorite store in New York. Dylan’s Candy Bar. Even though it is ridiculously over priced, I still love it. I purchase a small bag of gummy bears, my absolute favorite candy. I leave the store and continue to walk home. I keep running my first day at MSGT over and over again in my head like when you watch that really scary movie and the scene where the killer comes out of the closet keeps replaying in your head when you try to fall asleep. Anyway, I continue on my 20 block walk home. To my surprise, the snow stops falling. I am glad as my hair is now drenched. I finally arrive at our condo. When I tell most people that I live in a condo, they usually assume I’m poor or poverty stricken or something. In reality it’s bigger than some houses. It’s well over 3000 square feet. I walk into the parking structure and find a Mercedes Benz in our guest parking space. Usually people don’t come to visit us. Even after living in New York for six years, we still don’t know a great deal of people. My mother doesn’t even like New York, but she would give up anything to get a promotion or a better job; hence the reason we’re living in New York. I walk upstairs and inside and a man who I sort of recognize is sitting at the dining room table conversing with my parents. I finally make the connection of which the man is. It’s my mom’s boss. I recognize him from the company Christmas Party. Both my parents have a happy face, especially my mom. My mom starts to speak. “Alex, guess what? I got a new job in Wisconsin! We’re moving next week.”