Examples Of Observed Narrative

SLAM. The door frame sounds to struggle from concaving under the pressure of the overemotional hand. I stand. Dumb and appalled at the sight. Hysterically I see her fall to her knees with complete lack of control as horrifically ear piercing screams protrude from deep within her lungs. The scene is dramatic, and I suddenly realise why these kinds of scenes are made slow in movies. There’s just so much happening that your brain literally slows the world down, in the most unattractively possessive moments possible.

My schooling began in Cali, Colombia. At the age of two, my mother matriculated me at local nursery because she worked in the daytime. When I was four, my mother enrolled me in a non-religious private pre-school. The school was known for having a strong program in math and literacy. In my country, education is mandatory until middle school. My homeland uses an alphabet and similar to English it goes from left to right. In pre-school, I remember singing the national anthem every morning. I would stand up alongside of many other students and with our hand across our chest we would sing the entire national anthem. I also remember doing a lot of hands-on activities like counting the elements of each set and making a line to the corresponding number

On a typical March evening in Naples, I was introduced to this world- not the one in Italy (I wish) but in Florida. Unfortunately, my residence there was only temporary because I skipped around from place to place several times in Florida. In retrospect, however, I can credit my current “rugged individualist” character to these times. The “rugged” part did not until later though, so I was a bashful little boy until then. Anyways, there were several mornings while enjoying my Corn Flakes where I told my mother that I did not feel well so that I did not have to go to school. She did not ever find anything wrong with me, so I would reluctantly pick up my oversized, black book bag and start my day. Consequently, this shyness is what led to my isolationist character, which I did not truly break until the age of around 15. So, in Florida, I lived until the age of ten and I was a “special”, devoted introvert.

On 18Oct16 at 1111 hrs. I, Deputy Halbasch, was dispatched to 19609 Hwy 226 for a disturbance.

My job at injury was working as an assembler for Volt Information Services, Inc. This job was in the heavy duty range. I had no history of injuries to my right foot prior to my injury. On a typical day I walked and stood for the whole eight hour shift, and was required to lift “nodes” which weighed 18-100 pounds each, about 30 times a day.

On 23Nov16 at 1026 hrs. I, Deputy Halbasch, received a voicemail from Dewayne regarding the incident.

In my undergraduate career, I have been a declared double major in History and a Secondary Education licensure program, in addition to a Political Science minor. I have completed my history degree and am preparing for my professional semester to complete my licensure program. I have come to the realization that while I thoroughly love history and education, I do not want to be a teacher. These passions have not been diminished, however; I want to take my passions and channel them into helping a larger audience of people. I want to work in a public library.

After a long day at work, a mother came home and right as she walked through the door, she realized that she hadn’t prepared anything for dinner. She decided that it would be easier to take her family out to for dinner instead of cooking a meal at home. After she gets all of the kids piled into the minivan, they drive to the place that would save her a lot of work—McDonalds. As they walk into the door, the first thing her kids see is the play area, and, of course, there is a big ball pit just calling their names. They beg and plead for permission to go and play, but she repeatedly tells them no. She explains that the ball pit is a really yucky place for kids to go and that there are lots of germs from the other kids. She

The day was Thursday, June 6, 2013. I remember it like it was yesterday. A humid night at Fort Riley, Kansas. My husband, Robert, had been deployed to Afghanistan for the past seven months. I was anxiously awaiting his return. We had previously been through the experience of a deployment when he deployed to Iraq three years earlier, however, experience can't prepare you for this moment. My three children and I had been waiting for hours. It was ten o'clock in the evening but we were awake as though we had drunk a case of Red Bulls. We were standing in a huge, empty building with all of the other families waiting for their Soldier to arrive. My stomach felt as though it was in a million knots. I couldn't believe after all of this time he would finally be back!

March 10, 2008. Just typing out that date immediately triggers feelings of intense grief, anger, confusion and helplessness. Every time I recall this date, sadness grips me. I start feeling as that 12-year-old little girl all over again, desperately wishing her uncle was still here trying to braid her hair before tucking her into bed. It has been nine years since Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) deported my uncle on his way to drop me off at school. I still remember the way he looked at me, smiling forlornly and reaching out to hug me, as the officers approached the car after my uncle pulled over. I remember clutching my uncle by the waist, crying frantically, while an immigration officer yelled at me to move so he could handcuff my uncle. The last memory I have of my uncle, on that early morning, is of his tearful gaze as he looked back at me as an ICE agent pushed him into a van. That night, I cried myself to sleep, trying to comprehend that my

My road into choosing medicine has been a turbulent route, but the bumps and hurdles along the way have created defining impressions on me. Over the years, I have been pushed and pulled into and away from being a physician. I interest in medicine initially sparked my high school friend asked me to take his job in doing his father’s, a primary care physician, paperwork for the year. I was in need of some gas money, so I gladly accepted. After signing towers of paper work regarding HIPAA, I began doing the simple task of scanning medical files and typing them into the electronic system.

A small number of young children are playing together in a toy kitchen in one of the children bedrooms located in a home setting. The children - pseudonym used- include a 2 year old girl Quinn along with her friends Ava (4) and her sister Keira (20months). These two girls (Ava and Keira) are dropped off at a family friends house while their mother goes at work. The caregiver then takes them to kindergarten. A mother of a child was observing the children while they were playing together. These children are using a form of play called pretend play. This involves using their imagination and social skills as they are role playing, for instance a parent. Children often do this as they are making sense of what occurs in

Unable to open my eyes, waking up trying to identify where I was, pedestrians stared, pointed and yelled “Oh! My god. Call 911”. Cars drove by. The sirens were heard but not spotted. What Happened? Where was I? I wept as if the entire world, and all of its beauty, had come to an end. And in a way, it had. On the night of April 7,1997 my thin body flew from the backseat passenger side of a Nissan Sentra crashing through the front passenger window onto the roadway of Old Town, Staten Island.

I decided to attend the University of Phoenix in 2007. I was a single mom of 2 daughters at that time and thought my life was pretty stable. I was able to balance my career, family, and going to school until the father of my daughters came back into our lives. I started to focus on giving my daughters every opportunity to get to know their dad, which meant I reduced the amount of time I put into my schooling. I was always taking my daughters to visit their dad anytime they wanted. After a few months of interacting and getting to know him again, we decided to give our relationship another try. Shortly after he moved into the home I was pregnant with our third child. I was still attending school but not doing as well as I was previously. After having my third child, I was no longer able to juggle all of my

It is also assumed that the act of telling a story can provide insight into past, present and future events (Espinoza, 1997). By going through this process, individuals can find the importance of certain events and assign roles to people who are a part of their story. This act can allow a client to find new meaning and understanding to their reality (Espinoza, 1997). Not only is a