Hey There.

Hi everyone. My name is Alex Cercone. I'm no different from any other average teenager. I love hanging out with my friends, I play video games, I do my work in school about three quarters of the time, and so on. So what makes me different? I've been through it all, and in the words of Elton John, I'm still standing after all this time. I was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to a single mother with severe allergies and asthma. We didn't have much but we always made it work and we were happy. When I was six, my mom and I moved to Charlotte, North Carolina, and she married my stepfather, Michael. I wasn't your typical little boy. I loved to read more than anything, I was terrible and barely interested in any sports and liked to think and ask questions about everything. I loved to learn. I went through elementary school with ease. It was no challenge for me. Because of this, my mom and Michael decided to send me to a private school, Cannon School, which was a highly regarded name at the time. In fourth grade I began attending the school, which had a very high tuition. From the start I could tell it was different. The work was more challenging, yes, but that wasn't the main thing. These kids came from privileged backgrounds, had a lot of money. I didn't see myself like this. From the very beginning I was an outcast. I was a nine year old boy who disliked physical activity, who preferred math and reading to PE. Even more, I was heavily overweight, of a much higher intelligence than my grade level, and therefore appeared to be a know-it-all. It was just the way I was. But back then, it didn't matter. I wasn't one of the rich kids cause I didn't act like I had money. I definitely wasn't a jock. I couldn't be popular because of my weight and know-it-all status. I didn't fit anywhere. But at first I didn't care. I was excited to be at a new place that actually challenged me. It didn't last long, however. Soon the so-called popular crowd took notice of me. I was weird. And so, it began. All names in this are changed so as not to project blame. I've forgiven everyone for what happened over those years. Anyway, one day at recess a kid named Dean decided to pick on the new kid. I was in the corner with my book. He came over and threw it across the playground with an, "Oops, sorry," snickering as he walked away. I didn't understand why it had happened, but I had been raised to avoid conflict, so I quietly went and got my book. Dean and his friend George didn't like that I didn't have a reaction. They tore my book up, threw it, and walked away laughing. I just went inside. The next day we were in class. My teacher, Ms. Bartol, left the room. Dean took my homework folder and flung it across the room. I was angry at this point and threw his. But we were different. He looked at me and said, "Go get it." And I did. The whole class was laughing at me. I didn't know what to do. I was so embarrassed that I just put my head down and let them. From then on everything got worse. I was picked on every day, being called names and getting knocked over and having my stuff thrown. I hated it but I didn't do anything because I didn't want to be a tattletale. Certain scraps of memory jump out at me. How whenever we did a group project I was told I wasn't allowed in anyone's group. When I actually tried to play basketball with the boys I was pushed into the pole and told to get off the court. Being pushed off the jungle gym. But more than anything else was just feeling alone. Halfway through the year I was diagnosed with ADD, which made me even more different. Life was terrible. But I kept going. Finally I made it through the year. I graduated from elementary school. I made it. But I stayed at Cannon because I feared change, and I figured it wouldn't be any better. But the year was over.