Age 6 Personal Narrative

I remember the first day of Kindergarden very clearly; I walked into a facility covered with white walls, white tiling, and white children, but I looked a little different from the other children. I was the only Chinese American male in a predominantly white schooling created me to become an easy target for other children. Persecution, stereotypes, and identity was placed on me each day, and I resorted to my parents for comfort. I would cry into my mother’s arm and ask her “how do I make my eyes bigger?” or “Can you just buy me some blue eyes?”. My mother would cry along with me, but it wasn’t until after multiple attempts of begging that I understood the burden and pain I was putting on her heart, and I stopped asking. Each day when I was asked how my day went, I would lie and tell her how “amazing” it was, but I was truly hurting inside. This started my

It's the last day of 5th grade. Today we’ll find out who our new teacher would be next year, and then it happened! Our teacher handed out our report cards and supply list and right on the bottom in big, bold letters, said the name. It was our 6th grade teacher, Mr. Persampire.

Imagine you're first day at kindergarden in a brand new school bigger city and you dont know anyone. When I started kindergarden I was the new kid because I had just moved here to Mason City. I was always the most nervous doing anything new for the first time, Ive always had really bad anxiety.

I chose to sit silent in my balcony and observe the world around me. The very first sound I heard was the joyful chirping of the birds, which almost sounded like a smooth and connected melody of an orchestra, with birds taking turns and following a certain beat to their chirping. This was followed by the harsh mechanical noises of the vehicles that surround us, ranging from engine whine, raspy exhaust notes and hissing sounds of buses stopping by. What proved to be just a nuisance at first to the sounds of nature that I was expecting, turned out to be a nostalgic experience for me. Those sounds reminded me of my childhood, waiting downstairs for the bus to arrive and take me to school. Moreover, the vehicles whizzing past me with a diminuendo dynamic to their sound that faded away slowly acted as a reality check for me, reminding me that my days as a worriless child have long gone.

Sixth grade was possibly the worst year of my life. There were so many fights and I moved for the last time. I never had any real friends until sixth grade because my mother moved me around so much. I moved from place to place, got robbed a few times. My life was pretty eventful. I started sixth grade in another school, before Reeds Brook, and I didn’t fit in anywhere in my old school, so I was by myself a lot of the time. Soon, every summer i came to see my dad, he lived in Hampden and spoiled me with money because my mother never did. Soon I became ‘Damaged’ in my mother’s eyes and she didn’t seem to care nor want me anymore. At that time, I was in Maine, ready to go back, home. The thing was that i didn’t want to go home,

Wide eyed, wobbly kneed sixth grader slowly walked through the large middle school hallway crowded with kids, and searched for friends from fifth grade. Slowly took a step forward down the hallway that seems to go on forever, and looked around for her locker. She inhaled slowly and took a step down the distant hallway. Kids pushed, shoved, her slowly down the hallway. The sounds of her classmates loud voices overwhelmed her, this is nothing like elementary school she thought to herself. She looked slowly at the little numbers engraved into the dull lockers. The lockers seemed huge as they loomed over the little sixth grader, as she tried to remember where it was located. She finally spotted the locker she had been looking for, 387. She started

What was your ten year old experience like? Mine consisted of traveling alone to Mexico to visit my Grandfather throughout summer vacations. Traveling alone was something most of my relatives did at that age, it was an opportunity to visit the country their parents had grown up in. At first, my mom was skeptical. The thought of leaving me alone on a plane surrounded by strangers while being ten thousand feet in the air terrified her. It prompted her to call me every hour to see how I would be doing. Living as an isolated ten years old who stayed home all day playing video games, I would view this trip as a chance to get out of my comfort zone. At the same time it also terrified me, the thought of leaving the country I grew up living while experiencing a completely new atmosphere that is unfamiliar to me, had me shaking with excitement and anxiety. The morning of my flight I woke up anxious. As I stood up to walk towards the living room, I found my mom sitting on the couch with an anxious look on her face. Worried about making her feel worse I said: “Don’t worry mom, everything is ready for the flight.” She smiled, erasing her anxious look. Secretly, thoughts of getting lost at the airport or missing my flight had me terrified. I sat in my room contemplating thoughts of the new environment that I would be experiencing soon. I had never been good at stepping out of my comfort zone, but I knew that this was the perfect opportunity to do so. I knew that there was no going back,

Three years have passed. Her muscles twitching got worse. As a teenager seeing her trembling while walking bothered me. I have kept the keys and wallets in my hands until now. Not because she was not okay. It was curiosity as a teenage boy. Always wanted to have a ride to school. I could not let my mom take it back. Maybe it was me who made her problem worse. It is hard to answer when someone asks when I found about her problem. Age of thirteen is little too young to know what was really going on. It was a neighbor of mine who allowed me to get an idea of my mom’s severe situation.

One day I came home from schooland my mom told me she was pregnant. I had so many different feelings. I was scared, nervous,excited, but most of all I was happy i was going to be a big sister. I was excited to help start planning everthing from the baby shower to the room. I wanted to pick out little outfits and shoes. I couldn't wait.

I shut my eyes and put one foot in the pool and then the other and stood there like a complete idiot. Ive seen 4 year olds do this all the time. Ive been 18 for a couple of weeks now and still have so many childish moments and qualities. The water was colder than I thought it would be. “The slower you get in the colder each moment would feel”, my friend said trying to speed up the process and i was determined to get to the point of swimming. I shut my eyes again and walked all the way down the stairs of the pool. The water was up to my stomach and at this point i was shivering. People do this for fun? I didn’t see how it was possible to have fun in what appeared to be 0 degree water. My friends reassured me that if i were to get out it would

After the interesting time that was elementary school, the change to the intermediate school was not an unwelcome one. In fact, I was rather excited to pass on to the newly redone and recently renamed Lincoln Intermediate school. It was a time of change and that was exciting and terrifying. The first year of band, me newly on my trombone with only a few lessons of experience from the summer, four times as many kids my age for me to get to know, and a larger school. Needless to say it was a time to feel anxious.

My parents and I drove to Orange County CA. to look for a home to rent. One of the city’s my mother noticed, was called Garden Grove. She spoke to my father, saying, “That sounds like an excellent place lets drive over there and check it out.” After arriving there, the city looked like something resembling a fairy tale; it was like its name “Garden Grove” there were strawberry fields, orange groves, and avocado orchards. My father located a newspaper stand, stopped and purchased a paper, my mother turned to homes for rent in the classified section, she began scanning the page for homes. When she discovered one, they thought they could afford she studied the map to find the best route, and we drove to the house.

On the fifteenth of January 2009, I sat with my nine-month pregnant mother, in our miniature one bedroom apartment, discussing the gender of her baby. I continually expressed my desire for a brother, who would share my interests of destroying toys; however, my mother insisted on a sister, believing she would counteract my vicious attitude. Debating for hours on end about every aspect the child exhausted me to the point of passing out. Soon, it approached my bedtime, 9 p.m., I quickly tucked in next my mother beginning to dream about the adventures I would encounter with my new sibling.

My sister is weight, but she has a pretty face and she short. All her life people put her down because of her weight. Because of what people think of her she has a low self-esteem. She been talked about so much that when her family tried to show how beautiful she really is, she just put herself down because she just don't believe

There are a countless amount of times where my mother would give the justification of “you are a girl, it’s different you have to take care of yourself”. As a child I thought that this was just another thing parents would say to get their young girls to do or agree to what they wanted, kind of like the “because I said so” excuse. Now that I am a young adult, venturing away from home and getting a taste to what adult life is, this saying has taken on a different meaning to me.