My First Day In My Life

Today I woke up with a smile on my face and a tingly feeling in my belly; the reason for my joy was the name-plate hanging outside my door that read Dr. Agrima Agrawal, Assistant Professor, IISc Bangalore. My first day as a professor in this prestigious institute, giving me the opportunity to mould life, imbibe knowledge and make a difference; a difference which would matter. The fresh February breeze brushed my face as I rode my bicycle, headed towards my department. In the meantime, I saw a young

“I need a picture of you guys!” My mom expressed in much excitement. As I walked to the front door, my seventh grade sister and I took our annual first-day-of-the-school-year photo. With bright smiles on our faces, I was looking forward to the next stage of my life: highschool. As I stepped out of the car, my dad remained there as he watched his son start his highschool career. I walked in the doors for the first time as a highschooler. A rush of excitement and a sliver of nervousness hit me. People

as I fought against it. Shivering, the hairs on my neck stand up as I am exposed to the cold air. Starting a new college in a country where I'd never visited in my entire life would be partially difficult. I would have to mind what I say. It didn't help that I would constantly be bombarded by questions in my first semester. Expectantly, I find myself impatiently tapping my foot to the violent and rough rhythm of the music, which blasts through my earphones. Receiving many aggravated and annoyed

Children of today: days have winds that whistle the lessons you learn each time you are going to face something new. I highly encourage to do gain a meaningful understand of each lesson you gain so you may be part of the true-spirited people. The air had an awkward smell on my first day of school in first grade, yet I had a feeling of excitement to progress to success in life. When I got in my bed the night before, my eyes pondered on the ceiling as my thoughts pondered in my mind. Thinking, I fell

asked myself as my hand started to shake and my eyes began to water. I slowly sat down on the floor as I grabbed my mother's bloody hand. It felt as if my heart stopped and my brain froze. I knew at this point I needed help a lot of it, I had just nearly killed my own mother. Living with three different diseases was hard but not getting the help wasn't so to this day I ask myself why didn't I get help? three months earlier… It was 7 AM I felt a tap on my shoulder . I’m slowly open my eyes it was blurry

The date was June 1st 2012 when my life changed. On this date I stepped foot on John F Kennedy international airport , New York City. In the airport my dad is waiting for me . I flew from halfway around the world by myself at twelve years old with no parent or any relative but a plane full of strangers. I spent that summer with my aunts and father helping them in house work , and in the store to earn a living for us and the families we left back home. For the whole duration of the summer I was excited

thirteen years ago, my parents had gone off to go to work. I would be upstairs watching Zoboomafoo in my room and I could hear the door slam shut from my room on the second floor. It was a couple of weeks before I had started my first day in Kindergarten. My uncle Francisco, who was nineteen years old, was taking care of my little brother Luis, who was two, and I; I was five years old. Once my parents would step out the door it all began. My uncle would start acting really immature. At first, he would take

On a scorching hot summer day my life changed immensely. The day was August 13, 2013 and specifically the first day of my freshman year of high school. Thrilled to learn home economics (my next class), I slammed the organized locker shut, and ran down two flights of stairs onto the ground level where my class took place. I turned the corner and stopped; seeing as students lined up grabbing papers off of a shelf. For a certain reason, I turned my head and, consequently, began staring. While grabbing

like the longest day of my life, I got home from school – the most dreadful place imaginable to the average teenager – and lugged myself as well as my backpack full of heavy books and overdue assignments through the front door of my apartment. Not being able to take another step, I dropped my bag and the weight of a long strenuous day off my shoulders and crawled into the living room. There I lied trying not to think about the mountain of homework I had yet to finish, all while my body searched for

I hadn’t felt my dad’s warm, comforting hugs all summer and I was ready to plunge into his arms. My father was picking me up from my grandfather’s house. There was a woman in the car. She had long, curly hair, pretty eyes, and freckles. The first time we met, I felt her cold glare from the car window, tracing my every step as I hurried to my car. I plopped into my booster seat and rode back to North Hills, CA, where a shiny, new house awaited me. Mesmerized by the tall shrubs and the vibrant, freshly-trimmed