APUSH PROMPT I’m Afghan, and me and my siblings are first generation born in America. I do not pass as white, and neither do any of my family members. We have dark hair, olive toned skin, and are all very hairy. Every single one of us. Knowing I look different than my peers has contributed to a feeling of otherness whenever I’m around my friends who do look traditionally white. It’s an uneasy feeling that is hard to push away and always lingers. However, I haven't always felt like this. When I was in kindergarden I was a big fan of skirts. I wore them all the time. One time, i was sitting down when we had some free time and I remember looking at my bare legs. At the time, It took me a moment to realize my legs looked very different from the …show more content…
She was my dad’s mom, and we used to call her Bebe Hajji as a sign of respect for a elders who has completed a pilgrimage to Mecca. Bebe Hajji passed away from gallbladder cancer, and it was a very surreal time in not only my life, but my family’s as well. I don’t actually remember that much about her before she was admitted to the hospital, only when she was. I remember what she looked like, I remember what her lap felt like when she’d hold me, but I do not remember her voice. When she was in the hospital I never quite grasped what was going on, I knew she was dying, but i dont think i ever knew what death was. After her funeral I was sad, but i kept waitin for the other shoe o drop. I didn't know how to grieve, I was nine, I went back to school and i didn't cry when i told other people what happened, and i didn't cry at her memorial. As i've gotten older, it's stuck with me more and more. When I was in middle school i felt exponential guilt, about my lack of tears when i was younger. I felt like I hadn't lover her enough and as a result been unable to grieve. As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized people deal with death differently, and to be fair, I was nine. This year, I decided to join the wrestling team. I am a very unskilled wrestler. I’m not saying this to tear myself, it’s just true. However, I do love the sport, and would like to continue wrestling throughout High School. When I first joined, I was unable to take down a single boy on my team. Not even a single one. By the end of the season, the boy who I had been unable to pin once the first month I was able to pin half the times we wrestled by that last month. This was a lesson in hard work, and the fact that I am able to beat up boys (and girls). Those two things have given me lots of
I started wrestling in sixth grade. Even though I didn’t win one of my first seven matches, I developed into a successful wrestler. In high school I won tournaments and beat high-quality wrestlers. During my junior year I was determined to become a great wrestler. I worked harder than ever and didn’t let anyone stop me. That year I lost the Illinois state wrestling tournament championship match by one point. Over the next six months between my junior and senior season I was runner up at AAU national tournament and wrestled at Disney Land in Florida at the Disney Duals with over 50 other teams and only lost 1 of 8 matches. These are a few of my achievements in high school. Now that I am in college there are many
I failed AP English. I had missed the second quarter of the school year, almost completely, due to… technical difficulties. I got discharged from the hospital mid-February, and for the remainder of junior year, the majority of my waking thoughts revolved around passing 11th grade. With motivational speeches coming at me from my parents, friends, and teachers, I began to believe I had a chance of passing the year. I did my best, which apparently was not enough. My teacher had picked up on my tremendous amount of effort, and on the last day of school, bumped my grade up to a low D — just enough to pass. I was not exactly about to put my grade on display or anything, but I passed! Technically. This is not one of the underdog-who-succeeded stories. The real success for me was (look away, it’s cliché) realizing my best was enough. I sound disgusting.
Hello Everyone, my name is Jessica. I have been attending FSW for three years. After about a year of attending FSW, I discovered the paralegal program and have loved it ever since. I currently work as an assistant manager at Dollar Tree but desire to be a paralegal in the near future. I’m excited to learn even more about the legal field throughout this class.
My name comes from German and is the overseer of a wine cellar and is also known as a cooper.
I almost never make promises, I’m always afraid I might break them. However, I’ve made one promise I will forever keep, always try my absolute best.
Admittedly I’m not the best wrestler, but my hard work ethic and determination is what makes me exceptional. At the 2015 regionals I lost my first match of the tournament which really brought my spirits down quite a lot. Going into my second match I knew if I lost my season would be done, and sectionals would be out of question for me. I ran out onto the mat, my heart is pounding through my chest. I didn’t want to let my parents and coaches down again. The match started and instinctively I grabbed my opponent’s leg and pinned him in 23 seconds. Winning this match put me into the finals for third place. When I ran onto the match for the finals match my heart dropped when I saw the guy who beat me come out to wrestle me. This meant I had to wrestle the guy that beat me to get into sectionals. The match started and he took me down, so I
Mitchell, David, and Sharon Snyder. “Introduction: Disability as Narrative Supplement”. Narrative prosthesis: Disability and the dependencies of discourse. University of Michigan Press, 2000. Google Scholar. Web. 14 Feb. 2016.
Grief and loss has been huge part of my life. Although my youngest uncle was killed in Iran-Iraq war; before I was born, he was always part of our lives because of my mom. My first experience of actual loss was my grandpa’s death. I was six-year-old. We were on vacation in another state in Iran, while he had a heart attack, and died immediately. It was such a shock for everybody. My mom got informed by her uncle that day, but it took us 12 hours drive to get back to our hometown. I still remember my mom cried, and moaned the entire time. My dad’s parents died before I was born, so my mom’s dad was the only grandpa that I knew. It was really hard for me to not have him in my life, though I couldn’t talk about it with my mom. In my culture, we
Through the jungle of steel legs, nervous legs tapped the concrete ground as the overly proud teacher paced the front of the class. Already two weeks in Advanced Placement Language Arts, the class was in the fastest gear possible. A few teenagers in the back stared hopelessly at the screen as the teacher of the year rattled off terms that they had to memorize in minutes. Whereas the teenagers in the front looked at each piece of information on the board like they were hungry raptures at it was their prey. Even so, the anxiety of the room seeped from every pore of all the well dressed students. Today was the picture day for all of the Juniors and Ms. Powell knew her Advanced Placement class needed to keep pace even if they had half the normal time they normally did.
III. Bias of stylization in the biblical commitment to dialogue before all else revealed by an extreme instance: report of inquiry of an oracle as dialogue
My mother died 4 years ago from an asthma attack and not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. It was hard for me when I find out she had passed away because I was young and still in school but I knew my whole life was about to change and losing a mother will change the way I see the world. I would describe my mother as beautiful well education women. M y mother carried me for nine months, gave birth to me, she was the first person I seen when I opened my eyes, fed me when I was hungry, didn’t get no sleep for months when I woke up in the middle of the night crying, change my diaper, watched me smile every time I seen her face, she saw me when I first started to crawl, when I took my first step, said my first word. She was always there when I needed her. When I was upset she always there to make me laugh. When I needed advice she was the only one I could go too. She was a strong, loving, and caring mother who I always knew that was on my side, she would do anything for me and my brother and give us the perfect upbringing that made us the women and men we are today. She was the most beautiful I ever known. She was always was a huge part of my life and now that she gone I can’t talk to nobody else. When my brother called and told me that my mother was I the hospital the first word I said to him were “This can’t be happening”. My cousin took me to the hospital to see my mother but I received a call from my brother again to tell me she had died but it just didn’t feel
References : Janaro, R. P., & Altshuler, T. C. (2012). The art of being human: The humanities as a technique for living (Kaplan University 3rd custom ed.). New
My family lives in a nice house in Florida that is all gleaming white with a flat roof. It also has black here and there to make it look more
On May 29, 2012 my family picked me up from the ballpark, as I had just gotten off work. Our car ride home was typical, as I explained to them the exciting events of tonight 's baseball game. I did not notice the blank expressions on their face, or how quiet my little sister had been for I was to consumed with my own words. As I made my way to my bedroom my mom trailed closely behind, shutting the door behind her. She asked me to have a seat on my bed, that she had something important to tell me. I began rattling off what I thought she might say, she solemnly shook her head each time until I asked “who passed away”. Tears swelled in her eyes as she moved in closer, I was immediately filled with confusion, instinctively I began spouting out names, until she said “you know your friend, Kim?” I instantly stood up, then as if someone had cut the marionette strings holding me up I hit the floor. Unable to make full sense of the situation I let out a piercing scream. As I layed there detached from reality and unable to accept what was already certain, I found myself denying every heart wrenching detail that followed.
On 09/17/2017 at approximately 8:48 AM while assigned to the patrol division; I, Deputy John Cooper was notified by dispatch of a subject who was reporting a stolen firearm. I was contacted prior to making contact with the complainant, by Sgt. Inv. Bowring, who stated the complainant called him and stated the suspect was currently at the residence of 247 CR 4641 Winnsboro, Texas.