The Tale of a Highly Dysfunctional Family’s Incident

May 24, 2011
By SarahCarrasco BRONZE, Carrollton, Texas
SarahCarrasco BRONZE, Carrollton, Texas
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The air was sticky with the scent of Redbull as my heart pounded furiously—partly from palpitations due to the copious amounts of caffeine I had just consumed—but mostly from fear. I was crouched down with my arms holding my knees in a dark and dry shower surrounded by four other girls in the same position; their hearts were a pair of shoes being tossed about in a drying machine. Four letter words raced repeatedly through my mind as I imagined being caught; my mom was going to hang me from the ceiling by my ears if she found out about this. Why couldn't I have just obeyed that one simple rule? The only rule that mattered on the 2009 American Heritage Academy sophomore East Coast trip: No going into rooms that contained peers of the opposite sex with out adult supervision.

I went to American Heritage Academy from sixth grade up until my sophomore year of high school—that is, until it was shut down completely due to lack of financial support. During the seemingly short amount of time I attended AHA, I managed to make friends I still have to this day and will most likely remain friends with for my entire life. More important than my friends, however, is the relationship I had with my class as a whole, even the ones who weren’t close friends of mine because we all considered each other family. This was almost entirely due to the fact that my graduating class of 2011 consisted of a mere twenty-three students. So yes, naturally we were all exceptionally close but as one might assume, we all got on each others’ nerves from time to time. However, just like family we were always willing to forgive, forget, and move on. It’s difficult to explain the atmosphere that AHA had but it was a very unique and comforting one to say the least. I honestly can not remember a single day at AHA where I did not receive at least one hug from a classmate or teacher, and it seemed as if education there always came second to socializing; yet some how that was acceptable to everybody even despite the lack of academic discipline the school possessed.

That being said, the reader should know at AHA there were only two things a high school student looked forward to: the senior trip and the sophomore trip. And since A) the school was shutting down and B) I was a sophomore at the time, I conveniently had only one thing to look forward to. Thus, my class decided to make (or at least attempt to make) that year's sophomore trip the best sophomore trip ever known to mankind.

Admittedly, the trip in and of itself was quite normal, that is, up until the last night. After over a week of back-packing through the cobblestone streets of Boston, the busy shops of New York, and the endless memorials of Washington D.C., my group of friends decided it was time to take a break from the nagging voice of our tour guide, Bob.

A group of five boys who were in my class stayed down the hall from my four roommates and I, so we snuck over after everyone went to sleep with copious amounts of Redbull in hand. It was one of our favorite pastimes—bull pong we sought to play. Things were going unexpectedly smooth—we played the game, watched cartoons, and even cracked jokes about Bob when, predictably, an unnerving knock came at the door. The girls and I rushed to the nearest bathroom and hid carefully (but not gracefully) in the shower. It goes without saying we were found out. As stated, anyone who broke the number one rule was to be sent home immediately but as luck would have it, we pulled the shenanigan on the last night of the trip which made it pointless to send us home since everyone was leaving the next morning anyway. However, we all knew that luck would soon run out upon our return to school on Monday. I dreaded the lecture we would hear from our headmaster and the reprimanding we would receive from our principal. But most of all I cringed at the thought of my mother's indignation when she was to find out what I had done.

I called my mom immediately after being escorted back to my room so she could hear the news from me first and not from an angry teacher. I could not believe her reaction. She simply blew off what I said like I had just told her about the new episode of Stargate Universe . I did not know what to think; and to further my disbelief, the next day everyone confessed to going into each others’ rooms—even the good kids. I knew others had done it that weren’t in my group of friends but I in no way expected anyone to come forward and admit it, especially after my group had been caught. That is the moment when I realized everything was going to be okay.

Upon returning back to school a few days later we all received a mere slap on the wrist; we were sentenced to a thirty minute detention and the writing of an apology letter. And let me tell you, I have never been more insincere with an apology in my entire life. I would have been sorry if what I had done was horrible and inhumane or heinous or something of that nature, but what we did was just an attempt to savor the last moments we had together at AHA as a class—as a family—and the faculty knew that. For the remainder of the year our teachers smirked at us in class and even laughed about the incident. We did it. We actually managed to make our trip memorable to all of mankind. But most importantly—we got away with it.

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