1.08 Personal Narrative

The year 2003 the location Birch Creek Alaska. It is a small little town there is only about 28 people including my family. Back then I was so young so naive to the dangers of the world. I was 6 years just a mere child still trying to learn about the world. I have seen things now you would not believe. The pain and suffering that befell my family and I would be torment. It would haunt us for years to come after the events that would take place winter of 2003. I still remember it so vividly, so clean, it is has left a scar in my brain.

I was in 11th grade, and I was taking Latin, which many considered to be a rigorous. I enjoyed Latin because my teacher made it extremely fun, so I was always excited to be in class. We were taking an exam, and my friend was attempting to communicate with someone and I thought she had called my name. As a result, I looked up and nodded my head. After the test, my teacher asked us both to step out and accused us of cheating. He explained that he did not want to embarrass us in class that’s why he asked us to step out after the test. I was immediately offended. I have never cheated on an exam, and after knowing him for over a year and a half I was extremely upset that he would even think that I was capable of cheating.

The most important game of the year was coming up and I was ready. Everything was going perfect for me, because I was the starting QB as a freshmen at Englert High School. We were playing Joston High School the number 1 team in the nation since 1960, it was going to be a tough game because they had the number 1 ranked defense, but we had the best offense. The day before the game was just a normal day I went to school and had football practice after school. A couple weeks ago one of the other teams that we had played earlier in the year wanted another game so we decided to play them. They had been the hardest team we had played all year, we had only beat them by a last efforts field goal it hardly went in as it bounced in off the crossbar.

I like to beat the rush for lines and do not prefer being late, but

I been through a lot to be of assistance for this awesome police officer in Chicago, Illinois. I went through being distributed from Cupertino, California to Chicago, to being manufactured in South Korea, being made into many different parts to be an intermediate good, and being different parts as a raw material. I’m starting with who I am ,I am a iPhone 7 Red.{I know, I know, I am fancy} I am with this officer where I go all around Chicago with my owner Officer Jentson and we go fight crime and help other around our community. I came to Officer Jentson through the FedEx mail. I originally came from different parts of the world. Before I got to Officer Jentson I was in Cupertino, California going through the distribution process, that process

Spring rolled around and it was finally time for the first t-ball game of the season. The dandelions were sprouting and the bees were buzzing in the outfield. All twelve players showed up but only half of the team was there to play ball. It was hard to expect six-year olds to have much of an attention span anyway. The ball was hit and began to roll for the outfield. At this very moment the team of twelve became divided. This division separated the team players from the self-servers. Little did I know that my first time on the field would mark the beginning of something so big and influential in my life.

It was a sunny bright Friday afternoon and I was at school. I knew today was going to be the day, the day I get my new bike. After school my dad picked me up and drove home, so I can change out of my uniform and grab something to eat. I remembered my stomach feeling strange, I was so excited getting my new bike that I couldn't even eat. We went back in the car to go to Kmart. Even though Kmart was only like five minutes, it felt like I was in the car forever. I remember I was thinking of all the features my new bike was going to have.

I think about it for a moment. "Thanks for the offer babe, but I'd rather fly this one solo" I reply to him.

My mother had quiet a lot of brothers and sisters, there was nine in all.. Mother said most of her brothers and sisters married out of their parents house in Sampson City, moving into one of the houses owned by a man named Mr. Hogan, In these days the houses were called quarters, which consisted of one or two bed rooms and a kitchen all sat in a row. The families living in those little houses worked for Mr. Hogan who was the BOSS MAN. All the men worked at the Turpentine steel, that was owned by Mr. Hogan. They paid no rent and received a very small salary for their labor. Sundays after church was the relaxing time. We would visit with family and friends. In that time we did not own cars in that time, we did not have to go out in shop. The

Looking into my own eyes with happiness and wearing my new teal sports bra and boasting my flat stomach, I click the camera button on my smart phone in my right hand. Today is July 19. I started this on July 19 of last year and have come a hall of a long way at least I think. When I look at the pictures side by side, I can’t believe it’s only 40 pounds different. The stress and self-loathing I have lost had to have weighed way more than 40 pounds.

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll be fine!” These were the last words I heard before I got out of the car to walk through those front doors and start my first day of high school. Sure that’s what my mom thought. She’s an innocent five year old –only sees good and that anything is possible. She thinks since I made it this far, nothing could be so erroneous to complicate things and that it should be a breeze. Just four more easy years then I’ll be off to my dream; University of Texas at Austin or Baylor University. What she didn’t apprehend was that I was starting high school with only one person that I knew-Olira.

The front lawn of Valdosta State hardly looked like a lawn, but more like a flea market on Saturday afternoon or a carnival on a Saturday night minus the rides. There were so many people there I could barely pick out one conversation because the roar of the crowd was so overwhelming. As I approached the hectic scene I seemed to be swallowed by the swarm of people around me and continued to travel in the same direction as them. I began to feel the beat of the music in my body, the booming in my chest felt as though my heart was racing and then the unfamiliar beat became clear to me. I continued shuffling my feet in the grass and could feel the warmth from the sun heating my skin. I could hear the excitement from the student’s voices when they received a free souvenir. I also listened to the workers from the booths advertise their business saying where they were located and what extraordinary deals they had to offer. From then on I began paying more attention to the booths themselves. A majority of them were plastered with their logo and surrounded by bright colors to grab the student’s attention and more often than not, it worked.

It’s first grade. The teacher asks us to settle down at our desks and be quiet. She says, “When I call your name, reply here.” It appears that I was the only one who didn’t get the message. The indistinguishable conversations in the room grew silent and I was hearing my own voice. While every other student was sitting patiently for his or her name to be called on, I was the only one standing. As I glance over my peers, I get a sly hint that I should sit down quietly like the others. A few minutes later, a student taps me on the shoulder and whispers, “The teacher called your name, tell her you’re here.” With uncertainty, I squeak out the single word, “Here.”

My family and I love searching for junk in our neighborhood. We don’t often come across something reusable, but what we do find becomes a treasured part of our household for many years. In Australia, junk removal is more commonly known as “white-goods collection” where people place their unwanted fridges, dishwaters, and driers on the front lawn for council pick-up trucks to dispose of. Opportunities such as this only come around twice every year, so one could imagine the occasion to be very hectic for many suburban communities. At the peak of collection season, junk piles would grow so large that they would almost prevent the mail carrier from reaching letterboxes. My mother and I regularly joke about our neighbors throwing all their household

“He’s my brother they can't just take him away and tell me I can't talk to him!”....Hold on I better start from the beginning. We are off! On probably the saddest “vacation” i've ever been on. I'm about to tell you the story in as much detail as I can about the day I had to say goodbye to my lifelong best friend. This is the day my brother left for the air force. The day is July 6th and we are driving up to Kansas City.