My First Years Of My Life

I have some extremely strong feeling, trying to reflect back to my earliest childhood memory of my life, my first version was describing the setting that of my father hitting my mother over the head with something. Now, I know it was a gun. She was lying in a pool of blood in front of the fireplace with, me by her side trying to wait her up, then going outside crying so my, grandmother could hear me. There were so many scary moments in my childhood. I, can remember as a child, my father and brother falling in a lake of water with my mother screaming and helping them to get out, our house catching on fire with my mother and me along with three of my siblings trying to get out with her telling us to hold on to her and don’t let go. Which my father was no there to be found. Later we learned that he was drinking with his friend up the street under a tree. I was told a few neighbors came to help. Then we stay with my grandparents which I love. Because I love waiting for my granddad to come home from work so he, could take me to get vanilla ice cream. After moving to Cincinnati, Ohio at the age of six from Alabama. My father continues to be very abuses to my mother for fourteen years of their marriage. Thank God she’s still alive today.

I hear the phone ring, but am too lazy to go get it, so my mom picks up. I hear her normal greeting, one of cheerful annoyance at being interrupted in whatever she was doing. Soon though, I hear her tone change to one of surprise and delight. I turn off the music playing from my phone, Train’s “Hey Soul Sister” so I can here her better.

Growing up, I was always considered the “ Angel child” in my family. My parents thought of me as a kid who could do no wrong, and always did the right thing. For most of my childhood and early teenage years, that was correct. It was not until I met my new group of friends when starting Middle school and entering High school that this all changed. I was introduced into the typical group of trouble makers; at least that’s what my parents would come to think. At first, it just seemed like a normal group of friends. We would hang out, play video games and sports together; all the typical activities that teenagers would do together. Things stayed like that up until 9th grade, when more people were added to the group. Their ideas of fun often

Growing up, the only constant was change. My formative years were spent in very diverse environments that were polar opposites of each other, from the San Francisco Bay Area to Orange County, CA to Dallas, TX. Having experienced the various beliefs and ideologies held in these vastly different settings, I have developed a more nuanced understanding of the world around me.

My name is Alejandra Cervantes, a student from Brazosport College, who is enrolled in your Learning Framework class. Which I assist every Monday and Wednesday at 9:30 in the morning.

At 2:30 in the morning I hear the default ringtone of my iPhone ring for what felt like minutes. I looked at my phone to see who was calling me this late and when the brightness of my phone shined in my face I looked at the caller I.D. and saw my father’s name on my phone I answered quickly. “Hey dad! Is Caleb okay?” I hear chatter and yelling. “Dad! Hello!” I hang up, collect my thoughts, bear myself for what I’m afraid to hear and call back. “Hello? Dad?” I yelled about three times. While my heart beats at a million miles per second I finally hear my father speak, “Yes, Joshae’ I’m sorry I must’ve butt dialed you. Are you okay?” After hearing this the pace of my heart slowed, but I still felt sick to my stomach. On the verge of tears I tell my dad that I’m fine and fail in my attempt to go back to sleep.

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.

Moving to a different place taught me that home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be a person. On a humid day in the Philippines at my great grandma’s house, I had just finished watching my favorite TV show, Tom and Jerry, sitting on the couch with my feet raised up on a stool. My great grandma called me in to eat dinner amid watching my show. She also called my younger brother, Kurt, who was playing with his Beyblade toys on the floor. I told my brother to clean up his beyblades that were scattered throughout the floor before he could go eat dinner. After he finished cleaning, we both walked to the dining room, pulled each of our seats out, and sat on them waiting for our food. It was only my younger brother, my great grandma, and I. During that time I realized something was missing: my mother.

The telephone bellowed throughout the house, my dad quickly rushed to the phone. I hurriedly followed after him. He picked up the phone, making the absurdly loud ringing put to an end. The twinkle in his eyes slowly faded. I knew from the look of his eyes that it was bad news. A few days ago, my mother took a plane to Taiwan to check up with my grandmother’s health condition.

The first question that popped to my head: “How am I going to write my own autobiography? Quite a hard job that is! Where do I start?” Everyone has a story that is worthwhile to share. So for my folio, I decided to write a memoir to pay tribute to my dear grandmother Josiane, who provided me with pieces of a precious belonging, revealing her joyous secrets of life in the process. This purpose of this outline will cover three sections: first, you will learn what I have planned to write about, and why. Secondly, I will be a describing the techniques I have used in my Folio. And finally, learn about the difficulties encountered and which methods help me continue the project.

I was 4 years old. Being the eighth child born in my family, I never really had much attention. I didn’t have any early childhood friends. It seemed as if I were growing up alone, just I didn’t have to make my own meals. Well In the summer of 2004, My youngest sister was just born As Autumn and about half of winter passed over, it was the night of January 9th. My dad was at was at work and my mom was taking care of all the kids at home. The house, usually all rowdy, was quite different than normal. Instead of all of the others playing some board game or playing Hide-n-Seek, they were wandering the house trying to search for the source of a slight odor of smoke. There after a while of them searching, my mom, with my little brother on her hip, opened the hatched to the attic. The smell of flowed throughout the upstairs and that’s when we realized, the house was on fire. My mom called my dad and the fire department. All 10 of the kids rushed to the summer kitchen, only about six feet from the house. Right as the fire trucks raced into the yard and driveway, our helpful neighbors offered us a safer place(their house) to stay while they put out the fire. I wasn’t ready for this escalate of the event. I was wearing only boxers and I was so cold. We weren’t able to reenter the house so i had to improvise to the neighbors clothes which were a bit too small. After watching the house soon turn to flames with the firemen trying their best to get through

My family was never the one that went to church every Sunday, or prayed before meals, or prayed together at all. In fact, we still don’t do those things. However, what has changed from then is that we are all spiritually connected with God to a greater extent because of each of us developed our own faith over time. Growing up, my Mom taught us who God was and the tremendous amount of love he has for us and that we are all His children created in His image, but that was, for the most part, the extent of it. As much as I wish I had additional knowledge concerning The Bible and God’s word, I couldn’t thank my Mom more for only teaching me the basics about God. It was that which allowed me to discover God and my faith for myself and not rely on other’s thoughts and beliefs placed in my head as a child.

For years, I convinced myself that the story of my life began when I arrived in America at eleven months old. I tumbled through the clichéd white-picket-fence childhood, never realizing how impossible it was to completely discard the first year of my infancy. While I had always known about being adopted from China, I did not fully comprehend the weight of this detail until my late teenage years.

My teenage years were a rollercoaster. For the most part, I had a lot of growing up to do and to figure out my future ahead of me. Like most teenagers, I was mainly focused on my own difficulties and great moments. Many times, I found myself in complicated situations ashamed to talk about. This course and textbook, Adolescent psychology, allowed me to reflect on my teenage year. There are better ways to explain the aspects in my younger years. I will be going over my family, friends and even myself to analyze my adolescent years. There were more supportive answers to explain a few of my teenage years. As well as, issues most teenagers have gone through. There are also explanations on relations with family and friends playing a role through my youth. The importance and impact it can have on young adults. There always growth and development going throughout our lives.

From the time that I was five, I was told that my childhood would be the best years of my life. I never exactly understood why, but I knew enough to know to enjoy my childhood while it lasted, which seemed endless at the time. As I grew older and entered new stages of my life, I was no longer told that childhood would be the best years of my life. In middle school, I was told that high school would be the best years, but by freshman year I began hearing that the best years are really in college. It seemed that every time I reached my supposed “best years” I was already being told that the next stage of my life would be even better. Leaving my childhood and still having my best years ahead of me taught me that the best has always yet to