On June 8th, 1990 is when I entered this place that we call Earth. Born to Montasser and Nagla Hassan, the only girl and the youngest with two older brothers, nine and seven years apart. My parents were born and raised in Cairo, Egypt, and moved to America after getting married, leaving their families behind to better their future and the lives of their future off springs. Their courage and dedication to life and each other is a characteristic that they carried on throughout their journey of careers, life, love, and children.
In this set of materials, the reading passage discusses a certain phenomenon in human memory, and the listening passage adds to the ideas in the reading passage by presenting a possible explanation for this phenomenon.
On a bitter cold December day when I was in the 7th grade, my mom took me to the orthodontist office in Sioux Falls. When he announced the news that I needed braces, I was not real thrilled. I tried to think about the fact that I would eventually have perfect, straight teeth but I wasn’t ready to give up caramel apples. Although I liked straight teeth, I did not like braces, but my orthodontist said I must have them. At the appointment, my orthodontist performed an x-ray to fit my braces. That’s when my life took a turn.
Paint this, it’s the late 90’s in Highland Park, L.A. County. An oriental looking boy is sitting on a wobbly wooden stool about 3 feet away watching PBS Kids in a black and white picture on 10” screen. I can still recall the flickering picture and the pixel barred pallet, also in black and white. I’m not stating I grew up misfortuned but this is one of my earliest memories, in-fact my grandmother did have a colored picture t.v. It’s the setting as the focal point, especially if some are familiar with the area. In my flashback, accuracy was not intended. Myself being an oriental boy was not the factually detailed truth.
My childhood was a very dark place for me, I didn’t have as many friends and people were bullying me and I started to become a bully myself including hurting my family members. There was also a lot of family issues in my life, Also with my school life with the grades that I was making.When I would come home from school, my parents would always argue and have always fight. My mom would always make me read a book to her before she and I went to sleep and before I finish my last sentence,an argument occurs and then I would cry and feel depressed and a lot of adults were making fun of body and making rude comments. For example: I would open my fridge and my grandparents friend would come over and see me pull out a jar of ice cream and say to my grandparents “she looks like she pregnant, why would you allow her to eat ice cream. She will get bigger.” I didn’t have as many friends or talents. I tried everything I can to help others, but they just use me and call me mean things.
The good old days, the days of being an innocent child without limits with care free attitude. My childhood, for the most part, consisted of intrepid adventures and endless hours of fun spent exploring and making huts in behind the family house. These were the times that I shall never forget for they will be forever ingrained in me for eternity. As a child, the world felt small and insignificant, all I knew was that I was living it up like another child on the block, free to do whatever we wanted, free from the pressures of society. These were the innocent days. The fondest memories of my childhood were the times spent exploring the back paddock behind my old house. It was like stepping into another realm, a place that was our own little hidden gem, like a secret garden that we could escape to at anytime.
Looking back at my childhood, I suppose you could say it was pretty difficult. Even at my happiest, I was living with a foster family, separated from the rest of my biological relatives. However, I couldn’t complain. I loved them like they were my family that I spent my whole life with. I was a five-year-old boy living a happy life. I had grown attached to the family, feeling like I was truly a part of it. Then one cold November day it all changed. A woman dressed in black came to my home I had grown to love and told me it was time to go away. I horrified, not knowing where I could be taken. After waiting in a room full of toys for a few hours, she came back in and told me it was time to go. She put me in the back seat of a car and started driving. Driving to my mother’s house, to live with her and my two brothers. They didn’t even feel like family anymore. Time marched on, however. My sister was born, I was reintroduced to my family, and although I missed the Bernards, everything felt like it was going to be ok.
The day was here...finally here! I have been waiting so long for this day to happen, my very very first soccer game. I was so excited to play in this game that is all I had been thinking about for the past week. I had been dreaming and dreaming about starting soccer. My parents, my sister, my whole family was so happy for me! It was my very first time going shopping for some cleats, shin guards, socks, and some shorts. My happiness was unexplainable!
I remember the first day that I realized that I was different from most kids. When I five years old, I attended Sacred Heart Cathedral Preparatory in San Francisco’s Fillmore District. I was surrounded by diversity from an early age and during that time I was considered outgoing, and an extroverted child that loved to learn. Living in the Fillmore was a great experience, my grandparents live in a massive home two story house which was right up the street from my school. My family would all gather to have at my grandparent’s house, so the majority of my family resided in my neighborhood. Before going to 2nd grade, my mother lost her job so we were forced to live in low income housing and I had to attend a public school. We ended up moving
Personally, thinking about my childhood early on when I was in the beginning years of school is generally a painfully awkward thought until I stumble on the idea of soccer. I don’t think I’m the only person who believes that but regardless of the experiences I went through, there’s one in particular that is the single most important in my life. It was the first soccer practice I ever went to. Stepping onto the grass field off to the side of a playground and joining the other four year old prodigy’s, or so it felt, changed my life forever. My parents hyped up the idea of me playing soccer like all parents of athletes do and I thought it was completely annoying, but little did I know they were doing it on purpose so that I would build a
Many of my fondest childhood memories involved a stuffed lamb doll and one of my grandfather 's old stethoscopes. As a precocious seven-year-old, I would often stand beside my grandfather while he examined his patients. Watching him carefully, I mimicked his every move, an act that rarely failed to pull a laugh out of even the sickest of patients. Even in these moments of childhood play, I noticed the sheer joy and relief that his healing hands had the capacity to bring to the suffering and worried patients he treated. Seeing this, I remember thinking to myself that one day, I wanted to bring people that same joy.
After a trip to the dentist, I declared my future career. I told my mom not going to have to worry about my siblings and me having cavities because she had a little dentist in the house. I “operated” on my brother and sister’s teeth as if I were a dentist.