My Life In High School

Soccer has always been a sport that I’ve loved throughout my childhood. I’ve watched superstars like Sami Aljaber and Yousf Althunyan put on epic performances through the expression of soccer. However, I never truly understood what soccer could do for me until I signed up for my first soccer team. It was in high school, and I was only sixteen years old at the time. I was very excited to have my own team, and to have my statistics being recorded throughout the season. I definitely wanted to test my skills on the soccer field against true competitors that wanted to win just as badly as I did. There were local schools that we had to compete against, and then if we made it far enough, we would get to compete at the state and national levels. When I signed up for my high school soccer team, I truly didn’t know what to expect. I expected to have some fun with my new teammates and friends, but I didn’t realize that it would teach me a valuable life lesson about hard work and discipline. This paper will explain the ups and downs that I’ve had throughout my high school soccer years, and how it helped me become a better person today by instilling positive traits such as hard work, determination, and discipline.

I never expected I’d spend the first two years of high school bedridden and suicidal. I was born and raised in Elmhurst, Queens. Attending the same school from kindergarten to 8th grade, I was used to being in the same environment. I was given assurance when my friends consistently told me that I was lucky and that I would be able to adapt to high school life fairly quickly — I was the outgoing one, the one who made everyone laugh.

Soccer is something every kid plays, it’s the staple game of the world; but to me, soccer was more than just a childhood activity. Playing soccer has taught me many valuable lessons but the most important lesson was that it wasn’t about the trophy, it was about the practices, it was about the teammates. When the end of the season came around, it didn’t matter if we had won or not; we had grown as soccer players and as a team,

I was born into a family that was immersed in sports culture. Ever since I was an infant, my parents would take me to watch my brothers soccer games and while I didn’t comprehend all aspects of the game, I knew in my heart that I wanted to be the preeminent soccer player in the world and make my brothers proud. When I was six, my mother registered me into the “Spokane Valley Jr. Soccer Association”. I spent incalculable hours kicking and dribbling around in my backyard envisioning myself as the world’s best player, leading my team to the world championship. Fast forward 8 years and I was now on a nationally ranked premier team with all my childhood companions. We practiced five days a week and competed year round, traveling all over the West coast for tournaments. I considered myself not only a founding member of the team, but an integral player.

Back when i was in middle school and i was a pretten and was barely becoming a teenager.in middle school i had just switched schools twice. Switching schools wasn't easy for me it made things harder for me. I was failing most of my classes as a seventh grader; i §had §hit a point in my life where i gave up. Then one day my dad had gone into my room and said Asmariah you need to stop doing whatever you're doing and get started on your homework and get on top of your school work

During the last four years of my high school life I came across a number of different teachers, all of them together had different styles of teaching and some were more positive than others. Be that as it may, despite the different characters that wanted to mentor me and those who care not too there were three women who gave of them self and did their best to teach a young Black girl a few extra things. Distinguished from their co-workers it showed me just what a great teacher is.

The summer before my freshman year of highschool I decided to have a party with all my friends. My dad had purchased a blow screen and a projector so I could watch movies in the back with my friends. My parent told me I had limit of 16 of kids I could have over and I thought that was ridiculous and like any other rebellious teenager I invited all my friends over and told them to invite whomever they wanted. Instead of 16 people over I ended up having around 60 kids from my grade show up, including a some kids from valley that I had never even met before. Though many more people came over than my parents expected, they were not mad at me. That was something I always really appreciated about my parents, how understanding they were to my free spirit. As long as I kept everything under control I would not be in trouble with my them. My mom was so impressed by the turn out she took a picture of all of us. I remember being so happy to be the one responsible for having everyone get together that night to just watch movies and hangout in my backyard for a good night.

School can be a great place of growth and a time in one’s life where they may find themselves. Specifically, high school can be considered the most important time in all years of schooling. One of the more important places to me is my high school, Bullitt East. Bullitt East at first glance is just another high school but to me it means more especially with it being my senior year and having a good understanding of the school. Bullitt East has shaped me into the person I am today by helping me pick my career, get into playing tennis, and giving a place to socialize. This school has changed me in mostly positive ways that have made me who I am today.

High School isn’t easy at all and you’re starting at a new school. For Me it was very hard. I barely knew anyone at the school, so my whole 9th grade year I was to myself. I was the very quiet girl that sat in the back and people probably thought I was weird. But, I didn’t Know anyone. Yes, My sister was a Senior and We had like one class together but, other than that I didn’t talk to anyone really. I tried my best to get to know different people and try to step out my box but it was sooo hard. I didn’t know anyone. There was a lot of mean people in High School, High school is very cruel and horrible and I hate high school. I knew before I started it was going to be very hard I thought it was going to be simple and fun. It wasn’t neither of those to be honest.

I am an international student and last year I was invited by my high school to do a sharing about my college life in the United States. “I am getting everything I want, with the help of my family” I started the sharing by this sentence. After a deep breath, I began my story.

My Life has never been easy. I’ve never been the smartest or the most athletic which has brought me down lots of times because I have always envied the people who can get an A on the super hard math test or the person who is good at every sport just magically, but me, I’ve always been the funny girl; the girl thats always happy and smiley. Everyday I put on a smile and try to be nice to everyone even during hard times. Being this outgoing person has given me opportunities in school to branch out and meet new people, learn, and help shape the person I am today. Throughout this long, but short journey of high school I have experienced many events and situations that I would never regret.

High School is a very crucial place for most people, but I can definitely say it was very difficult for me. I did well in school, well enough for me. Now, to me the requirements to graduate high school seemed too difficult for one person, then again, most people manage to do; let me rephrase that: it seemed too difficult for me. I guess the main focus throughout this memoir is; when does your life truly begin? At the start of birth or the walk across the stage? Well, here’s how mines began.

High school. Where you get over 1000 teenagers together and make them feel as uncomfortable as possible while attempting to prepare them for their futures. Needless to say, some mistakes will be made by each and every one of them. Preparing for the future is scary but it’s something everyone has to do eventually. Of course every high school has that “college readiness” week where they try and scare students into thinking about what college to go to when they’re only 15. It can get pretty stressful, and when stress gets to you, it can make you do weird things. With all of the stress about the future coming at me head first, I had a hard time making the right choices. On top of that, I was only a little sophomore who didn’t have many friends while trying to push my way through this whole “high school” thing. So of course I made stupid choices, but who doesn’t. With all the new and scary things I figured I might as well add Chemistry to that list as well.

Ang pangalan ko ay Bianca, “My name’s Bianca.” but my friends call me “B” for short. I do have various witless nicknames like “Bob” or “BB Grill” but I wouldn’t prefer being called any of those names unless you want the whole class to laugh. During my first day, I perceived Stockdale as a welcoming school. Especially because my teachers were affable and approachable. I am aware of all the obstacles along the way, but that’s not going to stop me from reaching my aspirations. All in all, I’m looking forward to spending my high school years in Stockdale and I know it will provide me with good memories, knowledge and fun times.

My High School career was not an easy one. Save preschool, my entire life had been spent in one school, Ambassadors for Christ Academy. Now I have learned of it’s notoriety as a failure of an institution, but at the time my ignorant caregivers chose to overlook the obvious negatives and hold fast to their overconfidence in their own decisions. All this in mind, I knew everyone in my freshman class, most of them on a rather intimate level. I would be lying if I said I held much else but the sort of rancid hatred one gets from being far too familiar with someone. My middle school years had been plagued with depression and bad times, so expectations moving forward were low. Knowing things would be bad, and that even the best situations there would rapidly deteriorate, I held the kind of optimism an abuse survivor has. You know, somewhere in the limited views I had been able to shamble together, I held the hope that the serially repugnant institution would stumble over some reprieve for it’s tortured students. This hope was fostered by those close to me. There were few people more supportive and loving to me than my grandmother, Ruby. She and my mother were the closest relatives I had, and they fostered this tiny spark of hope, for better or worse. To hope for such luck was foolish, and like hopes were punished. Things continued to get worse, until my family finally saw the light and encouraged me to leave my sophomore year. While the administration fought my departure, as they