Graduation Speech - Original Writing

The next day I nearly skipped to school. I was in such a good mood that I couldn’t help but to smile. I don’t know what it is about Shay, but I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was a bad boy that was probably a terrible influence but I couldn’t help but hope that he would show up to class.

I dreaded to go home. I couldn’t stand the sound of my parents voices arguing. It just didn’t seem right. The two people that I have known my whole life fighting. It just didn’t seem normal. All of these thoughts were rushing through my head just as the noisy school bus pulled up to my stop.

Setting my suitcase and bags next to my bed, I glanced around seeing that most of the things I kept here were where I left where I ha don 't them two months ago. summer break recently ended and class was scheduled to resume on Monday. It was my last year here at Maxwell College of Arts and I could already tell that this year was going to be stressful.

November 20th: a lovely cool-weather-ed day, without much worry or fear in the air; the day after my sister, who had been living at college, celebrated her birthday with us at her workplace. Overall, it was a wonderful day. It was nearing the winter holidays, after a long-needed break during the beginning of eighth grade. I was staying after school, playing in the Middle School ‘Jazz Band’, having a great time. Everything ended, and I packed my instrument away. Overall, the band was able to learn, and practice, many new pieces for the upcoming concert. I couldn’t wait to go home, relax, and do homework for the next school day! My grandfather picked me up in his white van, and started towards my house, not too far away from the middle school. We were about halfway to my house, when I noticed a drawer on the sides of the road, which looked extremely similar to the one in my house. I didn’t think much of it. It was just a strange coincidence. My grandfather and I were approaching my house, and I noticed one of my indoor-cats, named ‘Rocket’, running around outside, on my front lawn, frantically. There must be something going on. My grandfather, driving his van, reached the top of my driveway. I rushed out of his van to notice my front door wide open, with its wooden frame smashed. Something had to happen, and it wasn’t good.

When I first joined this English class, it wasn’t completely by choice. Since this was my very first semester of college (having just graduated high school in June), my dad helped me pick all my classes. I needed an English class to meet state requirements. While searching through the class catalog online, I discovered that my old English teacher was teaching an English class in the morning. I greatly anticipated joining the class, but, unfortunately, I wasn’t qualified to enter (I had to be in the ‘Camino program’, whatever that is). I informed my dad, so he rushed to find myself a new class at the last minute. English 1A - 41066 was open, so I tried sitting in for the day. The class (and the teacher) seemed interesting enough that I decided to try and get an open seat. Fortunately, as more students left, I was able to officially enroll in the class.

It was her freshman year. She walked into the school feeling more nervous and frightened than she had ever felt previously in all nine years of attending school. Quaking in her shoes, she roamed the halls, frantically searching for the right classroom, fearing a possible encounter with a senior who would more than likely karate chop her to the ground before she even had a chance to run. Every year that she could remember there was a new friend whom she had latched onto in an attempt to survive the year. Yet freshman year, as she became more acquainted with her surroundings and the occupants of the building, friends were found in people she never would have imagined. She had finally found the group of friends she knew would stay by her side her entire highschool career; or all of theirs anyway.

Forget all my excuses, when I saw you sitting there I had to go to you. You were stunning. I couldn 't pass up the opportunity. I sat down in front of you and you gave me all your attention. The way you looked at me and spoke to me felt good.

When my family arrived in the United States as immigrants in December of 2000, we were foreigners in a strange place. We did not know any English so my siblings and I were placed in a school that had an English as a Second Language program specifically designed for immigrant students. I remember being pulled out of my normal classroom regularly to work with teachers and other students on activities that were designed to teach me English. The memory that stands out to me the most when thinking of those classes are the teachers who patiently worked with me sounding out words in books or writing sentences. The teachers made me excited about learning even when I was pulled out of my regular class at times when we were watching a movie or playing games. One day we were reading out loud in class and I nervously raised my hand to volunteer to read. I began reading the sentence in my small timid voice and as I continued reading I heard the voice of a girl who was comfortable and assured in the words she was speaking. There were no unsure pauses or nervous stutters in my reading and I remember feeling a sense of triumph that I could read so clearly. The separate time I received with these teachers played a large role in my success as a student. I was able to form a comfortable relationship that allowed me to be more engaged in the class and willing to learn without fear.

It started off as a regular Friday. I woke up feeling relieved that I didn’t have classes that day, as I needed a break from school. Instead of rushing to get dressed, I chose to sleep in for a while. When I woke up again, it was already past noon and my roommate was gone. As I slowly crept out of bed, I realized that I was smiling. I wasn’t stressed out like I usually was, and that was because I never had classes on Fridays. It upsets me when I think about how excited I was to leave home and be independent. It never occurred to me that college would be hard. There would be no one here to hold my hand or force me to do any work. So I made my way to the bathroom and took a shower. After I had gotten dressed, I went to Shaw and had a nice lunch. Nothing special, just two slices of pizza and a salad. When I had finally finished eating, I decided to go for a walk.

Upon arrival on campus, I had no time to spare as I pulled into the student parking lot. I got out of my car and went straight to class. I took a seat, making sure I kept my dress down enough. I watched as Mason came into class and he sat next to me.

I woke up that morning giddy bursting with excitement. I thought college was this scary monster where no teachers cared to learn your name and you were by yourself, but our first assignment was going on a nature walk, it was like elementary again. As I went to leave I was scared that our class wouldn’t be able to go because it was sprinkling outside and looked like it was going to get worse, despite that I kept my hopes high.

Today is just another normal day in seventh grade. I get to my Christian school, open my locker, and find all my stuff has been removed. There is a bright green post-it note that says “Get a life, loser...And if you want your stuff back, have a fun time looking for it,” I turn around when I hear snickering that sounds all too familiar.

Lights flashing day and night, cars and taxi’s stuck in the day rush and the night to endure the spotlight, but in North Brooklyn there was to girls, two girls who were friends since 6th grade. They went through many hardships but still always managed to come together. They never let anything completely disable their friendship. They were the ideal friendship at minimum, at most they were like a friendship you could only pray for. Natalia and Roxanne were inseparable.

respected that because he valued my education. I was expected to graduate in May of 2014 and we planned to get married in March of 2014 right before my graduation. Things were going well until late February I stopped hearing from him for 10 days. I was worried, he hadn’t deployed or anything, but what if he got hurt. He ended up calling me two weeks before our wedding date to say that he was not the man I should marry and that he needed time to get to get himself together. I agreed respectfully and said that we could wait. The following weekend, I was informed that he married a women he had met 5 months prior. I was put in a state of depression and tried to commit suicide. I stopped attending class during midterms which is when I found out and my life turned upside down. A few days later, I realized graduation was less than two months away and that I had to pull myself together. I did and I graduated that May with a 3.2 GPA. When I think of this experience, I think about my ego. Freud would say that my ego wants to meet my needs in a way that is sensible and takes all aspects of the situation into account before taking action. When the peak of this situation arrived, my ego needed to meet my needs of being hurt. I took everything into account, so what I did was focus heavily on my studies so that my brain was the focus and not my heart. My ego told me that my degree was more important than a heartbreak at the time so I managed to redo all my midterms and even pass my

“We have done everything we can, all that is left is to hope for the best” the intensivist said in a crackly voice. I felt powerless and distraught. It was the summer of 2015, just before my medical school final, thesis and graduation. My grandmother was her joyful self a few weeks ago, how was this possible? She always had a distrust and fear of doctors, the only person she opened up to with medical issues was me, her only grandchild. She had not seen a doctor in many years and never undertook any screening tests. Few months prior she began having low-grade fevers and constipation, this alarmed me, so I pleaded with her to see a physician. No luck. Her symptoms became worse; she was getting weaker each passing day. I could not sit and watch my beloved grandmother suffer.