Essay On PHS Ambassadors

In the world today many people undergo personal challenges that impact their lives negatively. Two short stories exhibit how personal challenges affects our relationships with others. Initiation, a short story by Slyvia Plath demonstrates a stereotypical high school life and how it influences a teenagers life. As well as, Reaction-Interaction, a personal essay by Diane Kenyon, explains the struggles of a deaf person. By analysing the similarities and differences between the stories, you can gain crucial life lessons.

In Anna Quindlen’s “Commencement Speech at Mount Holyoke College,” she effectively develops an emotional bond with her audience through personal anecdotes and the juxtaposition of her speech with others in order to persuade them to defy societal pressure. Quindlen begins her speech with a reflection on her experience as a college student, explaining that “being perfect became like always carrying a backpack filled with bricks” and advising students to “put down the backpack” (Quindlen 20, 25). With a candid portrayal of her own college years, Quindlen demonstrates to her audience that she has undergone the same struggles, referring to their shared hardships as if to say: I understand the struggles you are going through now and I just want to

Marano then concludes that this state of mind is common due to the lack of “emotional regulation and generationally bred on the immediacy of having needs met” (Marano 65). This opinion is then backed by the expertise of director of campus counseling and professor of psychology at Georgetown University, Philip Meilman. He too has noticed the change in direction from developmental issues to the urgency of potentially harmful issues that college students currently struggle with. Statistics on the issue are then throw in for added cushion on the argument; the facts are where Marano gains the majority of her ground. Marano acclimates this change due “psychic sleight” (66). She never analyzes whether Alyssa’s heartbroken Facebook post justified or if a little dramatism is a part of the healing processes. Nor does she acknowledge the how the ability of a student to challenge their psyche can lead to self-awareness which opens accesses to their emotions. Then comes the regulation of said emotions. All of the statistics are based on the amount of students who realize they have an issue and are strong enough to recognize they need help. If anything, it just proves that this generation is becoming more emotionally inclined compared to their stone-faced

In my eighteen years of life I’ve already attended 7 funerals of friends, 3 family members, and witnessed other classmates all to murder and drugs. For a good portion of life my family barely managed to be what was seen as “middle class”. Even with the madness in my life, I managed to stay cool headed and maintain the honor roll throughout school. Not truly knowing what purpose I serve in life, I have no admirations on what career path to go about so I breeze through school just because I can more so than because I feel as I have to. To an extent, I can blame my nonchalant attitude on the chaos around me maybe as Robert could

When people hear the word introvert, they usually think of someone who is quiet, shy and keeps to themselves. The word introvert generally has a negative connotation associated with it, but Susan Cain argues in a Ted talk called “The power of introverts” that being an introvert is actually a good thing. In her argument, Cain uses ethos, logos, and pathos to appeal to her audience and this essay will analyze how she does so.

First and foremost, the novel Everyday Ambassador, by Kate Otto, opens the eyes of many, and makes people realise that there are four simple values they can add into their everyday lives to make a difference. By adding these values into your life you could make a difference for not only yourself but for your neighbors, community, and maybe even the world. An everyday ambassador has to have focus, empathy, humility, and patience. By realizing you want to make a change you are already on the journey to becoming an everyday ambassador.

People sometimes forget that not everyone is capable of a high school environment. Sometimes to be successful, you have to fail. I had just moved in with my mom therefore I was going to be the new kid at Lake Gibson High. I was nervous, but I tried my best to hide it behind a smile. My mom has always been able to see past the fake smile, although to everyone else, I was just another happy nobody. I knew that I wouldn't fit in. My anxiety made me breathe heavy. I got off the bus, still no one noticed me. I was hiding behind my black hoodie with my hair covering my face. “Breathe” I mumbled before stepping into my 1st period English class. I took a seat in the back, and all except the teacher ignored me.

The school year approached its end. Another summer to spend alone by myself. The cycle had been repeating since I was in grade school. Sadness choked me as I returned home and shut my door. Every year, the resolution was the same: I would try to make friends next year; however, every year, I felt myself falling back down into the same trap. By the time high school began, I no longer felt the numb sensation of sadness or the flow of tears as the final day of May became the last day I talked with my “friends.” I no longer expected to make any friends, or, more accurately, I no longer expected to be able to make any friends. The sheer possibility of befriending an individual appeared to me as foreign as speaking in latin. When I walked into school, what should have been a site of chatter, opportunity, and growth appeared to me as a form of imprisonment and torture; however, unbeknownst to me, I did have friends; something of which I did not recognize until years passed by. I grown attached to certain conversations; there were times where I felt the need to initiate a conversation rather than waiting for someone else to make one. It was not until one of my friends told me,”We’re your friends aren’t we?” when I realized I was not longer

I hadn’t noticed how much the conversation had become heated. I had unknowingly stood up from my seat, the palms of hands slammed onto my desk. I had been seething with hatred, my face blotchy and overheated. Mr. Hartford had a look of pure disbelief on his face. I breathed out and looked around the room at the students who had been staring at me. Some had their mouths open in awe, while others looked at me with disgust and hatred. Someone had begun clapping and other had begun to join in, which had me shrinking back into my seat. The bell rang, causing a long needed disruption.

This article was used to inform the audience of how antisocial and dependant we are for people to listen to us. She uses the example of a sophmore in high school that says “one day I hope to have a real conversation.” this is showing us kids today are no longer learning how to socialize and how to put the phones, laptops, or ipods away and look someone in the eye and speak. This article was also used to remind us of the value of face to face

Man is a product of the culture in which he is born and brought up. For the same reason, no one can negate the influence of the society in forming one’s personality. I am well aware of the fact that my views, thoughts, and attitude have been shaped by the society I live in; hence, any attempt to sketch my personal experiences would be incomplete without referring to the part played by my surroundings. Throughout my life, I have paid utmost importance to initiating and maintaining interpersonal relationships with others. I had to face varied situations out there, both joyous and depressing. However, each instance was a great lesson for me to learn several things about my practical life – I wouldn’t be exaggerating when I say that I have learned more outside the four walls of my classroom than within them. My autobiography is closely associated with my social connections including my experiences with my family, educational institution, and the larger society I reside within.

It was a raw, blustery March day and I was leading four classmates to my house to hash out the remaining details of our current English presentation. When I opened the door, however, I received a surprise. I had not anticipated my mother still being home and neither had my group members. Their faces turned slightly blank, as if they were trying to hide their confusion and surprise. The previously relaxed atmosphere had become very formal and quiet. I had seen this before.

At my prestigious private school, for the three years of my attendance I heard students complain of how much they disliked it, including myself. It wasn’t that we didn’t appreciate the amazing education we were receiving. For private school kids, we were actually pretty good about recognizing how lucky we were. No, instead of hating school for the homework or difficult classes, we each complained about our peers and their exclusivity, the malicious gossip, or how we wished that everyone could forget their notions of who we were and let us break the mold we unconsciously formed for ourselves in middle school. In such a small school, the self-conscious, immature version of yourself from childhood followed you around long after you even vaguely resembled it. People still felt the sting of the sarcasm I had used to defend myself years before. Though I had long since become a kind, sincere person, I was remembered for the instances when I had been the

The new student arrived at the school. He tried to be the same as everybody else by trying to be a stereotypical teenager. During a big basketball game, he tried to imitate the fans, but felt awkward. The new student would ordinarily go study at the cafeteria during his spare blocks; he noticed many students doing it. He was studying really hard just like anybody else at this school. Unfortunately, he was often bullied at the cafeteria because the jocks would frequently show up in the cafeteria. They sat right next to the new soul to make sarcastic comments at him. Nonetheless, he acted accordingly. This disconcerting moment did bring him down and his

Once inside the school, my kindergarten classroom was a chaotic mixture of students and parents grouped around pint-sized tables and chairs, or examining a garden of brightly-colored posters on the walls. After a bit I found my desk and sat down, and my mom helped me situate myself. As I acclimated to the noise level in the room I could hear crying. I turned around in my seat and found down the length of the room a girl sobbing as her