Assignment 24 Victor Allison

From the day I stepped into Henry Clay's sweaty, stinky halls to now, the tail end of Junior year and bordering on high school's literal and proverbial fourth quarter, this year has by far been the most eventful. And I consider it to have been a year of learning to adapt. When confronted with a novel situation, one must make certain changes in order to thrive in the, The past year has taught me more about adapting than any other period of my life thus far; in this year I was forced to adapt to surprising moments of joy, and to moments of disappointment. I learned how to react to a close friend's divorce, to a classmate's grudge, to a political upheaval and, more locally, a seismic split in our grade's group dynamics. But adaptation shows itself most clearly in the face of the repercussions of one's own misdeeds. I could write a short novel recounting the mistakes I've made in my life, but only this year did I make one decision that truly hurled me into an abyss of true panic.

I wore Sperry's with socks.

I committed this so-called crime several months ago, but the weeks following I was the victim of countless disgusted looks, rumors, even pity; as a dog does, cowering in fear of a slap after biting his master. Even today, when a friend uses this alleged misdeed as leverage against me in a casual argument, the frame of my very soul is wracked with anger. I committed no crime. I harmed no one. But every time a close friend mentions the thing, even in a friendly way, the word spreads. People I've never met or even heard of whisper to their friends of my insolence. And this is how I learn. Being the target of such accusations has done nothing but teach me. I adapt and learn; never again will my socked feet be cloaked in any shoe that could possibly be deemed unacceptable. And my skin has become thicker than any sole.