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My Experience In School

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I’ve been anxious about college admittance since I first learned what college was. When the first trimester of fifth grade ended, and I learned that my good name had been sullied with a B+ grade in my reading class, I was unreservedly hysterical until my mother finally cornered me into my bedroom. I imagine she was getting snot-and-tear stains out of her woolen sweater for days. Since that heart-breaking evening, I’ve been afflicted with acute gastritis, insomnia, and a few cases of influenza thanks to my aggressive persistence in school. I was born to young parents, with no college degrees and no financial footing. I never realized that my situation was different from my peers’ until agencies began to show up to my house looking to examine the pipes and ask about something called “the square-footage”. My father had been laid-off, eliminating nearly all of our income, and our home was foreclosed upon in 2013. It finally made sense why my mother had been boiling water for our baths and why we all wore our jackets inside; we were broke. Success reached a new level of significance for me. I knew I had to scratch my way to the top of the class, climbing over kids that were seemingly born there. Luckily, we found shelter in a friend’s vacation home until we found a rental of our own. Its quaint, ornamental trim reminded my friends of a gingerbread house, but the inside was not nearly as sweet. My mother and father were both working full time, and I was left to care for my

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