#selftwo

[nunocoach-blog]

Depois que conheci o Coaching, fiz grandes amizades, muito network, e muitos insights, como é Maravilhoso Coaching em nossas vidas. #coaching #ibc #nunocoach #nunocruz #self #selftwo (em Ibc Coaching - Instituto Brasileiro De Coaching)

[ramseycommaisla-blog-blog]

Repetition ||

Cleaning out her locker. Isla had been doing nothing but simply cleaning out her locker before her world was tilted on it's axis and life dropped her on her head. Making a pile of stuff to keep and stuff to toss in the trash at the end of the hall, she'd felt a tap on her shoulder and turned, expecting to see a friend saying goodbye with a yearbook to sign or maybe her sister to tell her she needed a ride home at the end of the day. Instead, she'd found herself face to face with the school guidance counselor who had asked her to accompany her to the principal's office. A strange and slightly nerve-wrecking request but one that Isla made haste to comply with, quickly stuffing everything back in her locker for now, pushing it shut before following the man. As they walked, she took advantage of the time to run through her mind to try and find something she could have possibly done wrong to warrant a trip to the principal's office on the very last day of school. She wasn't a trouble maker, she didn't talk back and hardly ever found herself with detentions (although, the occasionally one did happen). Her grades weren't the best but they certainly weren't the wors--oh no..her finals. The hard to shake sinking feeling she had felt after a majority of her tests slammed back into her as they stepped into the main office and headed towards the principal's office just off to the back a bit.

Isla tried telling herself that she was being silly. Even though she hadn't properly studied for most of  them, she had been paying enough attention all year to have hopefully pulled it off...right? Maybe her sister had gotten in trouble, or something had happened to someone in her family. Maybe they needed someone to help the Valedictorian with their speech! She hadn't bombed her finals, how silly would that be? Her grades weren't stellar and often she found them borderline on the brink of being just a percent too low but she always pulled them back up in the end! But...with this being the possible final end of high school--there'd be no time to pull anything out of the gutter and save herself last minute. This very moment as she stepped into the office in front of the guidance counselor and was instructed by the principal to take a seat in front of the desk, Isla hearing the door shut behind her, was the very last moment itself.

Twenty minutes. That's all it took for her future to become as dark as the blackest shadow. The five minute walk from her locker plus the fifteen minute talk had added up to a very dismal twenty minutes of her life that pretty much halted her life. There's nothing you can do in time, Isla. Over and over the principal's words replayed in her mind as she numbly made the trek back to her locker, the now jubilant celebrations in the halls as the students prepared to close out their last day--whether it be for the final time or just for the summer--left a bitter taste in the girl's mouth and a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes stung something vicious but she hadn't cried. She wouldn't cry. At least not here. What was she going to tell her parents? What was going to happen to her acceptance into the school of her dreams? Could they really not have any options available whatsoever for her to make it right? Not even summer school had been placed on the table in front of her. She'd screwed it. And she'd screwed it big time.

Isla Blair Ramsey--who just twenty-two minutes prior had been on her way to the school of her dreams in just a few short months, the only school she'd ever even dreamt of attending--was now going to be a second year senior. Bombed wasn't even the correct expression for how poorly she'd done on her finals. Sure, she'd squeaked out a few victories but not enough to keep her GPA in the black. It was all that damned novel's fault. If she wasn't always so preoccupied with the stupid thing she would have remembered to study. If she wasn't always so focused on completing the most likely horrible piece of literature in time to most likely not even find any publishing house to take it on before the summer was up, Isla would have realized how severe and crucial it was to pay attention unless she wanted her dreams and her very future to turn into a misty substance and slip through her grasping fingers. She had half a mind to go home and make a big summer kick-off bonfire out of the extensive number of notebooks, binders and every other little thing that had to do with her novel. She also had a half a mind to never go home at all. How was she going to face her family? Tell them what had happened? How did she even figure out how to go about it? And really, what was she supposed to do about NYU?! Call them up and laugh about failing her senior year, hashtag yolo!? Would she be allowed to attend the school after next year or would she have to reapply and hope she made the elusive cut twice in a row? God, would they even want her anymore?

Feeling sick, Isla worked as fast as she could to clear out her locker. Everything she was keeping being shoved into her backpack and everything else being slammed into the trash can at the end of the hall as she passed it on her way out. Everyone was so damned happy. Cheers as the final bell sounded, the deafening volume of rushing feet as everyone--both student and staff alike--surged forward towards summer and their futures. Feet dragging and gaze on her feet, Isla exited Stonegate High for what was no longer the very last time. Not even the inner voice in the back of her mind reminding her that Mark Twain hadn't even gotten past elementary school (even if he hadn't had a choice instead of being a scholarly screw up like herself) was enough to allow the summer sunshine to penetrate her gloomy insides.