I Am An Impulsive Person

The fourth grade was a very traumatic year for me. My only sister went to middle school, my mom who always was at home across the street from school got a job, and I didn’t know one person in my class. For the first time in my life I was on my own and I was frightened even by the idea of it. During that year my grades dropped and I wasn’t social with my classmates. I started to fail in my favorite class, math. The work became pointless to me and I started to neglect my work. One day, after I failed another one of those math tests, my teacher asked to talk to me after class. Due to the already annoying grade I had received, my teacher punished me with a detention. Confusion and frustration flooded my body and I just wanted to give up. But,

My freshman year everyone had branched off from me and I was pretty much a loner. I didn’t belong to any sports group, academic club, or extra afterschool curricular. It was just me, myself, and I. on day in English class, with Mrs. Nelson we were all given projects which consisted of various assignments on the topic of The Great Gatsby.” While Mrs. Nelson handed out assignments, fairly easy grades right? So wrong. When Mrs. Nelson handed me my assignment, I wanted to die (not literally). For the assignment I had to write a song based on something from the book. After class I asked her why I was given the assignment and if I was able to change it, what she told me gave me the confidence to complete the project and get that

As the semester comes to a close, it is always interesting to look back and reflect on the events and opportunities my English class has given me throughout my first semester as a whole. At the beginning of this semester it was evident that I was feeling uncomfortable due to the adjustment that I was going through as a student moving to college. It was very difficult expressing myself through my writing since I was nervous about good impressions and my good grade. While this class was one of the most difficult courses that I have taken this far, it has become quite evident to me that I have grown a substantial amount as a writer and as a person; Especially, when it came to explaining my ideas, writing academic essays, and making arguments.

Personally, I have always been indecisive in all my decisions. Entering high school I had planned to take extracurricular classes pertaining to nursing. I was not exactly the most interested in that field of study, but I has been told that is the career I would make money in. The first day of high school I was not looking forward to entering the nursing class. I was sitting in my home room class waiting on my schedule anticipation rushing through my veins as I waited on my name to be called.

It was that time of the year ,which was back to school, it was the day ,I got to meet my 8th grade teacher ,I was sweating and had butterflies in my stomach. It was coincidence to find my friend Sheyla at the parking lot. Sheyla said she has met her teacher ,but needed a few more supplies ,so she was just back from getting her last supplies. Sheyla’s family went with us to met my teacher ,and I was glad to see her because it was quite a while since I last saw her. Later, after we left Berkmar grounds,I went to Sheyla’s house and we hangout the rest of the day. It was the first day of school, usually I would be feeling nervous,but today I wasn't ,which was good because I didn't want have sweating hands and a racing heartbeat. I arrived at Berkamr and went straight to homeroom ,I found my seat and waited. My first day at school wasn't to bad because the only thing

After a grueling first quarter, I was completely miserable, with terrible grades, low self-esteem, and no end in sight. I was hanging on to the hope that there would be some epiphany moment, a moment where suddenly my writing soared, along with my grades. That change did happen, but not all at once‒ it began during the third quarter, when my teacher, Ms. Boynton, asked me to stay after class, along with five other students. She asked if we would each be interested in participating in The Atlantic and College Board Essay Contest, in which we would each submit an analysis of a famous American speech. I was truly stunned that she had chosen me over so many other students in the class, since I had felt so lost for so many weeks, but it was exactly what I needed as motivation to keep on improving my writing. As I worked closely with her on my contest submission and other class work, I came to realize how much she cared about me and wanted to help me succeed. With that being said, she never made it easy; she continually pushed me, knowing that I could always do better if I set my mind to it. Last September, I began her demanding course with the intention of purely surviving, not necessarily thriving, but that

I had just started my junior year of high school which in the past I have heard it was the hardest school year. Going back I would say they were correct. I was taking the regular English class throughout the year, but on top of that, a writing class. Usually people take this writing class their senior year to get them ready for college. But no, my parents said “You need to sign up for this class; it will help you greatly.” When the first day came, I went to this writing class with many seniors. I have not been the greatest writer, so I agreed with my parents that this class could help me. But the fact that I was a junior and not going to college the next year like everyone else in my class did not help me. So

Choosing this career has been anything but a straight path. Over the past two years when I really focused on deciding what I want to do,

I was sitting with the kids I was working with that week and one of the volunteers who was around six years older then me was sitting in front of me. Out of nowhere, he asked, “Are you going to be a senior this year?” He had a big smile on his face. I told him that I was going into the eighth grade and that’s when things got awkward. He got super worried. “Oh , uh, nevermind,” he muttered. He walked away pretty quickly. I’m already an anxious mess, so when I had to take the kids into his classroom the rest of the week it was extremely nerve-wracking.

If it weren’t for that teacher I may still be writing short stories today. On the other hand, as I progressed through those four years of high school, I still wrote a few good papers. One of those being a 12 page paper on Stem Cell Research. This paper included a additional four to five pages of statistical analysis of how the overall American population felt about Stem Cell Research. It felt rather pleasant when I got an A on that paper. Another pleasant experience I had as a writer was when I got a perfect score on the writing portion of my college level US History course during my senior year which was around four pages and written within half an hour. That was in the past and now comes my

Sadness, desperation, and the thought of failure plagued my brain as I went into my second day of Sophomore year in high school. I had grown to dislike school a lot as it felt like all the fun I used to have was slowing diminishing into nothing. As I walked to my next class, I looked down to make sure I had the right room number. I did, it was time for English which I was not looking forward to. But, to my surprise, this English class would change everything

The day right from the start seemed like a good day so I went about smiling and walked blissfully to my normal seat next to my friends. We prepared for the coming classes that day. The deafening bell sounded and we were on our way to start the actual day. My classmates and I walked joyfully through the hallways, joking and laughing before reaching our first period destination. I made my way to the front of the classroom and sat down. The air was crisp so I took out my jacket and put it on. Our teacher walked in a few minutes late and started to take attendance. The whole classroom focused on him. After he finished taking attendance, he slowly reached down into a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. I stared in disbelief. The stack of papers he pulled out was actually a pop-test. I took the pop-test trying to recall everything that we had learned over the course of two weeks. I focused on the test for most of the class period and finally turned it in. The morning weather seemed to just be a ruse. This was not a blissful or good day; it took a turn for the worst. I sat there in the chilling room trying to think of something else to keep

Throughout grade school, I struggled with what my future would hold. I had an idea about what I wanted to achieve. For example, I know I did not want to live pay check to pay check, but I didn’t have a clue about how to achieve that. My entire life my mother taught me to work hard for what I wanted, and then I could reap the benefits later. I didn’t want to wait for later. I wanted to have my cake, and eat to. I knew I love books so maybe I could become a writer. The school Counselor suggested I take a career vocational test to determine what would work best for me.

One of the crucial moments in my life was the decision I had to take; as to what I was going to do next in life. Having completed my Advanced Level in 2013, I realized that it was not the end of my career as a student. I needed strong academic foundation along with other soft skills to meet the challenges and survive in this commercial world as a successful individual. In view of these thoughts, I was unable to make a firm decision as to what my career direction would be. After a month or so of various discussions with my parents, friends and other learned people I was able to reason out the best choice for me.

I am now approaching the conclusion of my college career and starting to adjust to work life. This is a period of self-reflection and an attempt to put everything I learned into perspective. During this period of my life, I have been constantly thinking and contemplating my future. I feel very anxious yet nervous during this time while I am adjusting to this new stage of my life. When I was in High school my life was very structured, because I could be very dependent on peoples help and I obviously still lived with my family. When I went to college, I had to break away from that feeling of dependency and start the adjusting to adulthood. In college there was more responsibility and I started to become more independent. This was a crucial step in my life but choosing a career is going to be an even bigger step. It is a bigger step because; I have to start structuring my career goals and family goal for the future. At this moment all I can think about is my career, and how I can I keep improving myself for work life.