My First Day In My Life

Raised by a single parent mother and the oldest of five siblings between my long estranged parents, I witnessed her daily tears and varied struggles to provide basic food, make a comfortable home out of our cramped one bedroom dwelling, to as much as alternating when each child attended school. I was given preference because I exhibited the most potential and eventually earned rallying support from teachers throughout elementary and secondary schools. They pooled personal resources to help sustain my education, filling the gaps providing books, lunch and transportation whenever my mother fell short. Symbolically, I believe that it was my mother's tears that propelled me to complete my high school education miraculously affording me a substantive platform from which to further myself.

It was on March 19, 2000, when my father with his small family moved from a hamlet to Ibb city in the middle of Yemen starting his new life from nothing with little kids and a faithful woman away from their families. As my father fought for better living and better education for us, my mother also sacrificed her own academic future to raise her children and protect them from the failure in their life. Because we were living in a humble rental apartment, friends of my father had encouraged him to cut down education expenses to his children and build his own house. “Building minds is better than building palaces” were the words that my father enunciated to his friends after I strived for excellent marks and obtained the eighth rank throughout the country back in high school. It was a wonderful moment when I made my parents proud of me where every moment in my life, whether it is desirable or not, has a great impact on shaping my future.

One early morning 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 us to the downstairs room that was by the kitchen and would start yelling for no reason. You could not really hear much from the room, which is why I assumed he took us there. Luis was the youngest, so he was an easy target. He didn't say much nor defended himself because he didn't really know what was happening. The yelling would frighten my little brother. My uncle would scream “ no one likes you” and “ no one cares about you” at Luis, which really hurt his feelings. Luis would just stay quiet and pout.

On the ceiling of my father’s room wall hung Albert Einstein's frame which had the inscription, “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” Those words greatly inspired me as a teenager. Even in the most difficult moments, those words scream in my head not to give up. I grew up at a time or period in Nigeria when the military junta overthrew the civilian government. The political environment so tensed that it drove away investors. Consequently, the political instability created crippled the economy. The only people that benefited from the military government were their cronies. During this period, the popular middle class disappeared. The gap between the rich and the poor widened. Food shortage arose because the government stopped supporting the farmers through subsidies. Thus, it resulted in the inability of the head of families to provide three square meals for the family. The food scarcity affected my family as well. There were days I would walk long distances to school without eating. Also, on some days, I turned my hunger to fasting. I constantly improvised so I would not get discouraged. In all these, my father kept telling me, “My son, this is a phase in life we all have to go through, everything will be fine.” Despite the tough hurdles I had to cross growing up, I succeeded and became a role model to other teenagers in the neighborhood because of the moral and financial support from my parents, education

Waking up with my mom saying "Alexis, I took your dad to the hospital early this morning," that wasn't what I wanted to hear first thing in the morning. I began to sweat; my palms began to get clammy and this nauseous feeling coursed through my body. I didn't understand why mom took him at first but then remembering at 3 o'clock that morning he was struggling to breathe, then I realized why. Immediately when I got to school I told my best friend of 13 years what my mom had told me this morning. My best friend was with me throughout this whole journey.

In the Valley money isn't easy to come by and my parents must work hard for the items we do own. Nothing was ever given to me or my sisters at our command; we had to do chores, earn excellent grades, and behave if we wanted to be rewarded. Not only did my parents do this to reward us, but it gave us a reason to want to score exceptional grades in school at a young age. When doing labor work with my father I always complained about it being too hot outside or the task being to difficult and tiring to finish. When my father saw me struggle with these things he would always look over at me and chuckle saying “you wouldn’t make it working outside on a daily basis”. Furthermore I shall always remember his words of motivation to me, “You’re a smart kid, use

Hunched under a mango tree trying to find shade from the scorching sun as sweat drips from my scalp to my toes, sizzling as it hits the ground. Temperatures increase day by day in the summer I pray for rain to fall, looking at the stray animals on the roads in craving for water. I gaze off into the distance of barren acres of land, touching the dry, cracked soil and seeing lifeless crops perish due to the boiling heat that I was responsible for. As a boy living in the (countryside) rural areas of India in a middle-class household, everyone in the village was taught at a young age to start working. Even though I was the third child out of my four siblings it didn’t prevent my parents from making me work out in the fields. It was tough having to do manual labor like field tasks to feeding and taking care of the animals every day. As the rooster's crow, I wake up immediately and lay out my school uniform and shower, I brush my hair slicked back, put on my shoes and run off to school with my friends. I quit going to school until the 10th grade because back in the day my parents wouldn't care that much about education like today. It was more about harvesting corn in the summer to plant seeds in the winter. When I was around 20 years old my two older siblings got married and my family decided it was my turn. However, my father tried to encourage me to do something in life first and not sit at home and drink or smoke so he opened a pharmacy, that didn't work out so long due to my

A father holds immense power over his family and especially his children. The choices he makes leaves a mark on them forever. Whether recognized or not is irrelevant, the outcome remains the same. His actions will either scar or teach. This great influence is left to interpretation among the youth. “Fathers tend to stress rules, justice, fairness, and duty in discipline. In this way, they teach children the objectivity and consequences of right and wrong” (Significance). Using the father either as an example or a counter-example, it is the children who hold an even greater power. This ultimate power is the attitude towards life’s unpredictable challenges, which can never be taken away. There is no real way to lock the future. One can only control her own actions, and as she does she has influence over others as well. With time I have discovered that my father has scarred me and in scarring he taught. My father taught me how value mistakes, laughter, and education.

The day started off pretty good, the birds were chirping, the grass was green, it was a beautiful August morning. I was listening to my happy, epithalamic, and soothing music before I had to leave. It was the first day of school, we had just moved to Parma from Seattle Washington. I never really had trouble with making friends, so I was fervid to meet new people. The city seemed perfect for me. I felt untrammeled and joyous in my new neighborhood. The city gave me a great aesthetic pleasure. I expected the school to feel the same. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

First day of school, in a completely new setting with different emotions rushing through you, as you look around seeing different faces has the thought of their personality code ever crossed your mind? Typically, the answer would be no, why would such a though cross someone’s mind who has so much more to anticipate on the first day. This was my mindset, for years and years I would attend the first day of school prepared for the excitement and deprived feeling of summer slipping away. However, things were different for my first day of college, after taking the MyPlan assessment and learning about not only my personality but about other people’s personalities as well, I began to become more conscious of other people. For once, I was not only

When I was about seven or eight years old my aunt Melissa was watching me and she got a phone call and they said that both of my parents had died in a car crash so since she had just moved into the small town of Oceanside or so that is what she told me she could raise me as her own so that’s what she did, she did it all on her own. I started school at Oceanside elementary school and I was super nervous when I walked in the door I saw a girl sitting all alone so I decided to go sit with her and I did her name was Chloe and from then on we were best friends. The day we started high school was probably the last normal day of our lives until junior year.

There is a quote made by an anonymous person that says, “People never forget two things: their first love and their first day in New York City”. Well I haven’t had my first love yet, so I wouldn’t know about that, but my first day in the Big Apple is something I’ll never forget. It was the day of my 7th birthday, when my father decided to take me, my younger sister and my mother to Coney Island.

I open my eyes and examine the clock. It’s 6:01 and I turn the faucet to the shower on. I step into the shower and I feel the warm water running down my back. I finish up showering and I dry off. I walk back to my room and I look back in forth in my closet looking for a shirt. I grab a pair of black shorts and a blue shirt. I head back into the bathroom and get ready. I style my hair, brush my teeth, and put on some deodorant. I head downstairs for a bowl of cereal and by the time I finish eating it’s 6:48. The bus comes in 12 minutes, so I get my bag ready and I fill up a water bottle with some tea. I begin to walk out the door and I instantly regret wearing shorts. It’s chilly, but soon my arms and legs adjust to it. Right as I get to

Now let’s go to June 7,1979 that is my birthday I was born as Jabari Toins and I

I woke up early, about 6 am, happy and relaxed. I was, however, disappointed that I hadn’t dreamed of the monkeys. I took my shower and brushed my teeth. Pleased with all my homework, I went downstairs. I had a bacon sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate. Dad signed my guardian slip for the school trip. I checked for my pencils, eraser, and pencil sharpener, and made sure that my book bag was packed and all was intact. I dressed warmly, with an extra shirt underneath. Feeling so comfortable in my outfit, I got into the car and waved to my mum. Dad dropped me off at school at 8 am. It was still early for school, so I went straight to the canteen to chat with a few friends.