In middle school during English class, the boy behind me kept kicking the back of my chair. After a few days of this, I finally worked up the nerve to turn around and tell him to quit, only to be immediately yelled at by my teacher. She didn't see the whole situation, she just saw me turning to tell off a boy. I was so embarrassed, I cried.
In high school, I began to experience panic attacks and night terrors. My dad took me to the doctor and after being treated for ulcers I had developed from stress, I was diagnosed with a panic disorder. In large classes, I would become so overwhelmed by hearing all the talking during free time that every few weeks I was getting in trouble for walking off campus and going home without informing anyone. After my diagnosis, I was allowed to sit in the counselor's office if I needed to leave class and she would do paper work while I read Alexander Dumas.
