My first fight.

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I was a ferocious lion. I lost my temper uncontrollably. Nathan was bleeding incessantly from his nose. Blood imputed on my right knee and my left hand. The entire playground stood motionless. I could perceive each and every person looking at me with sheer admiration. They gazed at me like I was a lion and Nathan was a gazelle, regardless of Nathan being virtually twice my stature.  

    I can still remember the events of my first fight as if they took place yesterday. I was pushed in to taking part in such an abhorrent incident on the first day of primary school during my first six months in the country. My uncle revealed to me that the reason that I had not begun school immediately was because my family arrived to the country halfway through the academic year. My family and I had just started to settle down in the country, adapting to the weather and the environment when my parents wounded me with the news that they had found me a school to grace with my presence. Endeavouring to learn a new language was demanding enough, let alone new children, teachers and books all of whom spoke a different language.

    The majority of the children in my class had all attended the nursery and infants before entering primary school. Therefore, I did not share, or relate to the experiences they shared together, like playing with the sand building castles, competing in various skipping games, riding on bicycles, drinking milk in the afternoons and having much fun with the paint. As a result, I felt disconcerted by so many questions rushing through my head. Was I going to be accepted into one of or any of these groups of eight year olds? Was I going to be the only one without a partner when doing paired work? Was I going to be the only one sitting unaccompanied in the dining hall?

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    Unfortunately, the events that took place aggravated me more than I expected. On the first day when the teacher was introducing me to the class, I felt so unbefitting and mortified when she publicized I had just arrived from another country. There was that split-second when some of the children looked at me like I was an outsider, an alien. Voices were whispering from each corner of the room “who is he?” I felt isolated, remote, and would never have contemplated that after two days their thoughts would be on the contrary.

        After being introduced ...

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