Decisions, decisions, decisions. It wasn’t my decision to go to Polish school. My parents made me. Now, Saturdays are the worst days of my life. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I couldn’t bear the thought of going to Polish school, at the time it felt like my stubborn parents ruined my life. I was as scared as a fly. I had to go though. How could I disappoint them? I couldn’t get out of it they opposed everything I said. A short, but ultimately life-changing trip to Polish school. Polish school was a bore but that’s where I met my best friend On a dark Saturday morning in December I woke up at 7:30 washed my face, dressed up and ate. I left my house and went to a place of horror, fright and panic. Polish school. It turned out to be not as bad as I thought it would be. My parents left me there, and I had to handle things on my own now. I was thinking about what I was going to say or do, or what everyone was going to think about me. Well I was about to find out. Before I went into the class my heart was beating so fast I could hear it. Thump thump. When I went into the class everyone was loud, chatty and uncontrollable. The teacher sat me next to a girl with short, straight, satin hair; she didn’t talk to me much. Well that’s how I met my best friend forever. And we’ve actually been best friend forever. Weird isn’t it? On the next Monday I went to my primary school for the first time. Saint Gregory’s. It got stranger and stranger .Guess what? She was right there sitting in the corner of the class. She looked bored, calm and unexcitable. She didn’t seem to have a bubbly personality. The teacher sat me next to her because she was the only one who spoke polish. I was the newbie in the class no one knew me, no one talked to me or interacted with me in any way. Now when she explains what happened, she says I followed here everywhere like a moth to a light. She used to hate me. But that changed. We’ve been friends for se