Act Grade 6 Reflective Narrative Research Paper

I never thought the day would come where I’d have to admit to myself I had an addiction. The hardest part was to except the fact I was an addict of painkillers and admitting it to my family so that I could get the help and support needed to get clean. The road leading to my addiction started with the factors of my childhood, always trying to fit in and not being supported emotionally from my parents. Having a child at the age of sixteen was the second factor, which made me grow up faster than a normal child at my age would have had to. Living the life of an addict was a struggle everyday but, getting help was the hardest part of it all. I’ll live with this disease for the rest of my life because recovery is a

I have always been close to my family of five. My family is what made me strive for greatness and what made life joyful. I felt like everything was perfect and that I was on top of the world. However, this all changed when I entered an unfamiliar apartment that had all my belongings. I was only eleven when my parents split up, and the age where I had to grow up fast. My parent’s separation is something that holds me back till this day. For two years, I felt like I was on my own because my parents were never home. It seemed like my sisters and I were the ones being punished. There were countless nights where my sisters and I cried because of this sense of emptiness. My parents did not think we had to depend on them anymore, but they did not

For my senior project I ventured into two different possible careers I held an interest in. I adventured in the art career field and am determining if would be a viable future. This project also helped me determine whether I wanted a future career with domesticated companion animals or wildlife, both of which I love but needed to determine a career focus upon.

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and the sun is still shining bright in Fort Jackson, South Carolina. It is hot outside, about 99 degrees. My heart is pounding with fear of the unknown. The bus stops and the doors fold open. A soldier comes running up the bus stairs in a round brown hat screaming at the top of his lungs, “Get off the bus, now soldiers!” I jump out of my seat and immediately rush to the front of the bus, along with about twenty other new recruits. I have no idea what to expect but have heard the horror stories about basic training and how much the Drill Sergeants yell and apparently this Drill Sergeant has a set of lungs on him that could dwarf a bullhorn.

I grew up in California where both of my parents were involved with gangs and drugs by the time they were in middle school. They grew up like this, getting involved with the wrong people, getting into fights for dumb reasons, even getting in trouble with the authorities. Of course, that was normal for them because they were surrounded by it through friends and family. They continued to live that life style even when they met each other at the ages of 18 and 23. They didn't like each other at first, but they eventually started dating. My mom ended up getting pregnant later that year and tried to take a break from all of it, but my dad didn't stop and that caused some tension and arguing between them.

Have you ever had something you were “super passionate” about be stripped away from you? Roughly one and a half years ago I started my sophomore year of lacrosse. The lineup of students on the lacrosse team this year promised us a spot in the championship. Throughout fall practices, the majority of the sophomore class played amongst the varsity team. As the season ramped up in the spring, we waited for our first game against Saint John Paul’s Christian Academy. First game of the year, we enveloped ourselves into the game and became one as a team. Running downfield with a clear, open shot on the goal “whoosh” I shot the ball bottom right, a bare miss. Suddenly “crash” I was hit from both sides and struggled to stay standing. As I came to my

“Man, I’m telling you I can’t wait to get out of college.” stated the Jock. “HA! You probably won’t even graduate after all the detentions and write ups you got!”a random person answer back. Slam! I grab my books out my locker and I began to walk to my next class. Truth is, I was very exciting that I made it this far, into this master class-like school.

Welcome to Creekside 8th grade! We have a very busy and exciting year ahead of us. Learning to read and write well is fun, rewarding, and sometimes frustrating. During this year, we will be focused on improving your reading and writing skills while learning to navigate the difficult world of literature through skillful use of strategy and mature reading practice.

When I was eight, my family took a trip to Africa. Our first day there, in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Ghana, I threw up. A month later I was enrolled in a high school on Ukerewe Island in Tanzania. Sophomore year is the first year that is taught completely in English, so my sister and I went to class. Every morning our family walked two miles, picked up bananas on the way, pet the cow we named Jim, and got to class in time for the worst part of school. We sat in the back of the classroom while each student waited in line to be told of their mistakes, and then beat with a stick. We didn’t have to participate because our parents were volunteering at the school. At tea time, the replacement for lunch, we grabbed tea and found a place to sit. I made the mistake of choosing a large pile of dirt, which was

As the storm rolls over the house, lightning cracks in the distance lighting up the package on the front doorstep. The box had white and blue stripes on it with a red ribbon holding the lid on. As I was bringing it in out of the rain, I noticed a note on the ribbon saying “Grandma: bEWarE” It’s written with some sort of dark red ink and some sort of sticking indented into a splotch at the bottom of the card. I didn’t think much of it and left it on the kitchen table to look at it tomorrow. I awaken to the sound of the cardboard lid falling on the floor and the note from the ribbon left inside the box saying, “bEWarE.” I looked around franticly for a few seconds thinking someone was playing a prank on me, but nothing, just a silent house. I put the box and the lid in the bin and started to get ready for work but I couldn’t get the note out of my head.

An assignment one, the personal narrative will be revised for the assignment five because I thought I did well on it, but I got the lowest grade. I also knew that I didn't prepare it well enough as it could have been. Plus, I feel like I could get a better grade if I spend more time on it because I like writing about myself, my experience.

My experience with literature begin in kindergarten when reading the Magic Treehouse books. These books were the first in my life that I would actually read willingly cover to cover. Before I would begin to read a book just to quit after I deemed it boring or dull, but these books were different I actually liked them. This would continue until the 3rd grade where I would read different books like don’t you know there’s a war going on, it was a World War II book that was centered on an elementary kid like myself. After that, I read historical fiction consistently mainly involving wars Civil War, WWI, WWII, Vietnam, etc. I also felt like if I had to read for an any assignment it was forced and I would skim or do little actually

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to lose someone. How would you talk to them? What would you do without them? How would you feel without them.I have I lost my great grandma, and that was the day in my life that that changed everything. On this day I learned that life is way too short to even say one last word to that special person.

Opening, option, lucky chance, possibility, regardless of the synonym used, opportunity is often overlooked. Who can lay blame? Life is busy. Adults have work, homes, children, volunteer activities to distract them. Students have school, practice, jobs. Daily obligations keep us from seeing opportunities or at least that is a convenient excuse. Don’t take chances, don’t call attention to yourself, keep your head down, the expected road is the safe road and consequently each day will securely turn into the next. That was my existence, one of the crowd, one of the many. Then I sorted socks.

No that 's not right, I thought as I backspaced time and time again. My brain felt dryer then Arizona, and Arizona is pretty dry. It was the last couple of weeks of the school year and I had to write a reflective speech on what I learned then I had to present in front of a big design board. Taking pieces of what I learned this year and outlining them were hard. I started with the first, a song lyric I made. A wave of emotion spilled over me similar to water falling from Niagara. The air around me became cold and stiff. I got goose bumps from the thought of a central idea I could write my paper on. I suddenly knew how to go about this speech.