Essay About My Childhood

1.1 – Explain the factors that need to be taken into account when assessing development

I was born in Spain 1978, era of political transition. Few years earlier the country was under the rule of dictator regime, General Franco that ended with his death. The same year I was born, a new constitution was approved by democratic elected parliament that provided individual rights, also demolished death penalty and allowed divorce.

In the Buckingham chapter, we see how constructed childhood truly is. His arguments show that adults are defining what it means to be a child through mass media such as television, internet, books, and movies. These mediums create the idea of what childhood should be, reinforcing this adult ideology due to the fact that we rely on these as sources of knowledge. We can see through his string of evidence how “childhood”, or the idea of childhood that we have, are socially and culturally constructed. This allows us the opportunity to see how perhaps our own ideas of childhood have been shaped by the books, movies, and shows we watched.

The key features of childhood studies include respecting the rights of children. These rights are set out by the 1989 United Nations Convention on the Rights of Children (or UNCRC). The UNCRC is made up of 54 legally binding accounts covering key elements concerning children. The UNCRC divided these 54 accounts into categories of the 3 P’s those being Participation, this enabling a child to participate in decisions made in their best interest. Protection, a right to be protected from any kind of abuse or exploitation. Provision, to provide a child with healthy food, safe housing and suitable education.

Childhood is being like drunk, everyone remembers what you did, except you. In the photo, I was probably four years old, sitting in the room with my grandfather, my two cousins and my elder brother whose face is covered with spidermen’s mask.

My earliest memory I remember as a child is around the age of two years old. My Mother would put me in the playpen but I refused to stay. I was able to climb out of it. I remembered my Mother’s face expression that let me know that I better not climb out of the playpen again. This was one of my earliest memories of her setting her boundaries. When I got older, my Mother told me about the situation. She needed to clean and/or cook so she had to put me in the playpen. At the age of two years old, I just wanted to explore and didn’t want to stay in the playpen. This set the tone between us moving forward.

What is it about our childhoods that make us want to write about them? Is it because those are the first memories we can easily recover? Or is it because we like to relive those recollections over and over? For me, It is neither. When it comes to my past I like to pretend in never happened. To say my childhood was shitty is an understatement. I hated it and do my best to block it out entirely, but for the purpose of this essay I have chosen to think back on it as much as I possible can to gather a memory that I can write about. I must admit this has been challenging and I have thought about it over and over. (Mostly over a bottle of scotch) What do I tell a group of strangers about my past? Would they even believe me? Do I offer up my darkest secrets to a bunch of people that may or may not judge me? With these questions in mind I have managed to come up with one episode from my hellish upbringing that would not be terribly painful. This is my attempt at reminiscing about the past and the first time writing about my malevolent bitch of a stepmother.

My grandpa had died of lung cancer in 2004 and even though I was young I can still remember my family mourning. We knew he didn’t have long and yet when he past, it was like a void was left that could not be filled. So, when my grandma was diagnosed with liver cancer, I remember asking my self why? Why god? My grandma had never drank or smoked a cigarette a day in her life; It just didn’t make sense. The doctors told her that she would not make it six months, but those doctors didn’t know my grandma. She was diagnosed in April and was determined to make it till Christmas. Christmas was her favorite holiday and her house had Christmas decorations that stayed up year round. My parents didn’t tell me and my brothers and sisters for about a month because they did not know how to break the news to

From the day I was born to the 7th of July 2012 I lived in Kidlington, UK. In this small and secluded town, I hold some of my best memories.

Some people reminisce the past, live in the present, and dream for the future. My childhood is something to look back at. Some things could have been better, but for the most part they were exceptionally good. I truly wish I continue to focus on the good parts of my childhood.The teenage years are what the majority of people say to run from, but I say that you can learn from all the mistakes you made, and will continue to make. Although, I’m still in this stage of my life, there are things I can already say that I will remember until the day I die. As for the prime of my life there are only expectations and dreams of what I will or who I will become. I do have high expectations for myself and goals I plan on accomplishing, I can say where I see myself, but I will never truly know.

When you think of someone who is a product of their environment, you may think of someone who steals because they may have grown up in poverty, or someone who abuses women because that 's what they grew up watching happen in their own home, or maybe even someone who was raised in a very strict home may have grown up to be a very straight laced individual. My story is a little different. My story goes deeper than how I act on the outside, my story is about the inner workings of my mind and how growing up the way I did has directly affected me as an adult person today.

I can start anywhere but let’s take it back to January 12th 1999, the day I was born. My mom told me the day she went in labor with me it was her and my step dad January 11th she started having contractions at around 12:45. She said she took it like a Queen because she was having a beautiful princess. At around eight o’clock the next morning January 12th she took a ride to St. Vincent. They admitted her put her in a room stripped her and prepped her to deliver me. I was delivered at 12:45 January 12, 1999. She knew right then & there she had the most beautiful little girl in the world. She then kissed me and held me for a long. Then came my real dad around 4:30 that after noon. She said it was one of the best moments of her life.

One sunny day there was a cookout at my grandma’s house in seattle. It was lunchtime and I was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.When my grandmother was finished with the sandwiches I sat in my favorite spot the one next to the heater. So that way I have hot air blowing towards my feet. As I took my first bite into the sandwich I could taste the soft gooeyness of the peanut butter and the pleasant taste of the jelly. As I took another bite, I realized my tooth was in my sandwatch and blood was all over it so as I pull the tooth out the peanut butter and showed my grandmother she gave me a dollar for the tooth and I taked the offer and leave to play in the yard.

The leaves would crunch beneath my steel covered toes and the fresh, cool forest wind would numb my cheeks. In my childhood years, several years after my parents’ divorce, my dad would take my sister and I out to hunting camp on the weekends. It was usually deer hunting season when we would travel there. My sister and I would hunker down and stay quiet in the early mornings before the sun would come up and at dusk before it would get dark. These were prime deer hunting times. My little sister Lizzy and I passed the time with creative activities. Most of the time we would sit in the pull barn and find scraps of wood, old nails, and tools to build heaps of nothing. Other times, when we were bored enough, we would venture into the woods and pick out pretty rocks for great grandma Ryers, or look for deer tracks on the trails. When hunting hours came along, I would either whittle on a stick or silently color in my animal coloring book. Another activity that my family and I would partake in was shooting rifles at apples nailed to a tree, or paper targets. This was not allowed during hunting season because it would scare the deer out of the area.

I never thought that when I woke up that day my life would change. In second grade, during the summer, my parents were fighting. A common occurrence in my household, so there was no reason to be worried. My siblings were at my grandma’s house while I wanted to stay with my mom and dad. Unfortunately, my mom agreed to let me stay.