My Life In Life Essay

I had thought that high school would be no different than the past. Work hard, pay attention in class, and meet standards for every teacher. I was wrong. My teachers were supportive and only held the most basic of standards for all their students. They worked hard to provide us with assistance to succeed in class and be caught up in lessons. By the first grading cycle, I had exceeded all previous expectations my family had of me. I was both joyous and sad though. Now that I had reached the only goal I ever cared for, I was unsure of what to focus on next. This led me to ask my peers for advice and I realized that most of them also did not know what they wanted in the future. Thusly, after thinking and conferencing with others, I began thinking for myself what I wanted for my future. I was still being held at a high standard by family and friends, however I now had time for myself. I was free to decide what kind of future I wanted. Though afraid as I was of my unknown future, I was

Where a person lives, can influence their life’s trajectory. Accesses to quality education and opportunities are determined by zip code. As I think about the access and opportunity gap, my thoughts often return to my high school graduation in June 1991. Experiencing childhood in Wellston, Missouri, a segregated, poverty-stricken community in Saint Louis, the importance of education was instilled at an early age. Watching television was not permitted while my mother was at work. Instead, books from libraries and secondhand shops were our source of entertainment. I cannot tell you how many times I read Roots and Gone with the Wind. In the 1960s, my mother was the only one out of our immediate family to graduate high school. Eventually, she gained a secretarial certificate to work on an army base. Having a secretarial certificate allowed her to uproot her family from Wellston before the school district lost its accreditation. After moving from school to school, we finally settled in my junior year in a middle class community that looked like us. The architecture of this school resembled a shopping mall with vast resources for students. Mathematics and science became my obsession, and I immersed myself in this new community, taking part in various clubs, learning, inventing and experimenting. Crossing the graduation stage, I recall visiting my guidance counselor’s office the day, Dr. Keener Tippin introduced himself. This towering man explained he was there to

Lights; red and blue. Handcuffs; silver and waiting. A jail cell; cold and desolate. Each of these words describe things that a criminal would have seen before being introduced to their fate. What do a criminal and little Anna have in common? More than one would think, but that is to be explained later. Before I committed my deed, I would describe my childhood as a dreamlike bliss. I lead a pretty charmed life-two parents, a sister, a soon-to-be brother, and an iridescent, teal-colored room. What more could a seven year old ask for? But really, my life was pretty fantastic. I was a clueless little girl with a Dora Explorer(cultural allusion) haircut and larger than life bow to match. However, one day I made a dreadful mistake that haunted my childhood; I robbed the Easter Bunny. You're probably wondering how I could have possibly robbed something that doesn’t exist, but my seven year old self would tell you otherwise in a heartbeat. To me, the day I robbed the very real Easter Bunny was a day I will never forget.

I was sitting at a picnic table with a young boy struggling next to me. His hand was gripped so tightly onto mine that there were petite fingernail impressions lining my hand. He was screaming, crying, kicking up the loose gravel that laid on the ground. All because he didn't want to kill a fish at fishing camp. This was just one of the countless fits a day that this young boy would have in a day. And learning how to help him was one of the most gratifying experiences I have attained in my life.

I was born and raised in Pune, India and moved to USA at the age of 9. As my family navigated our upper middle class lives in Pune, people all around us suffered. They were born into poverty, with no money or food, and often no family to care of them. As I went to shopping malls and watched movies, I just had to look a few feet in any direction to be reminded of the fortune I had, and the misfortune others suffered. One of my earliest memories was of a child no older than 8, covered with fecal matter and dirt, struggling to pull his father, a blind quadriplegic, on a sled. The father, riddled with open wounds and fleas, was begging for money, flailing his body towards people he could not see. Not a single person even looked his way. Who was going to take care of the poor father and his son, ensure that they were both fed, deliver the medicine they needed? To this day, I wonder if anyone ever bothered taking care of them, and if either of them even survived. His desperate pleas continue to reverberate in my head, and the guilt I feel for not answering his pleas makes me feel like their fate was on my hands. That was the first day I felt helpless in my life, as I did nothing but watch poor father and his son from inside my car.

Sitting on my bed as I put lotion on, legs swinging, head swaying, as I listen to the sounds coming from the boom box. He walks in and rubs my hair, I looked up and smiled with my mind at peace, not knowing that my life will be changed forever. Paul Boese once said, “Forgiveness does not change the past, but it enlarges the future.” It took me some time to understand Mr. Boese; when I became a mature adult, I realized he was saying a lot with just a few words. Forgiveness helps your trust, attitude, and furthermore your entire outlook on life. I wish I could take back the day it all first started but I have moved on while still forgiving.

I was taught to be accepting, outgoing, and independent. By this point in my life, that's exactly what I've become. My education, happiness, and family were always top priorities.

It was night, after dinner time, and I was going to bed. I was practically already sleep walking; I looked like a zombie from an nineties movie.When I got to my room, I had a bad feeling and I decided to check on my brother who was already asleep in his bed. That's when I found him. That day, my brother almost died and it was the most meaningful experience of my life because I learned how to control my emotions in a moment of crisis and I saw a different side of my mother.

Experiencing High school is where it all began for me. Of course my middles school teachers tried to make us all feel as if high school was going to be hard and a bit scarey, but it wasn’t until I was ending tenth grade and the beginning eleventh grade when i started feeling that way. I had an idea of what my future wanted to look like but didn’t know how or if I could get there, until I took a class called PFM (Personal Financial Management). My experience taking PFM taught me why i needed to get serious about what today millennials call “adulting”.

Throughout life many if not all people will have experiences that change them in a meaningful way or teach them a valuable lesson that they can keep with them forever.In the year 2015 there were two primary events that had a distinct impact on me as an individual,and changed the way I processed not only life and death, but the way I processed everything.These events took place on valentine's day and October 12th which at first seemed to be normal days until I got a phone call.These phone calls were very unexpected and saddening because they were pertaining to the deaths of two of my grandparents.In this memoir I’ll be discussing what these deaths taught me,how they altered my perspective on life and how short and unpredictable it can be at times, and how they impacted my life.

Reaching for my left hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it. I pulled my hand away quickly. “I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate you sitting on his seat and talking to his girlfriend.” “I know your boyfriend Ms. Loran. Brian and my half-brother Philip went to school together. My brother’s name is Phil Tatum. He still lives in NY. Do you know him?” “Yes…Oh. You are full of surprises. I met your brother at a fundraiser a month ago. Your brother is such a wonderful man.”

The late hours into the night, holding my mother as she cried herself to sleep became a sign. My family was going to fall apart. She would wail about the troubles over her husband cheating. I would comfort her as I silently prayed her pain would end. It was no shock when my mother asked me what I thought about her getting a divorce. My soul was relieved she had finally considered ending the marriage. I was six years old struggling with what I was to do to keep my family mostly together.

I am truly amazed at how this book came along in my life right when I needed it the most. For two and a half years since my late husband passed away I have literally been in a fog. I didn’t realize that it was an attack from the enemy. I thought it was me just going through a grieving process that just seem to keep prolonging itself or either somehow there was some unresolved issues in my life that needed to be dealt with. For the life of me I couldn’t seem to figure out what it was that I needed to deal with. I was exhausted mentally and emotionally knowing that this couldn’t be of God, but was just too numb to even try to do anything about it. I would try to pray my way out and even would go to church thinking maybe someone could pray this off of me, but then again, I can’t even say I was desperate to get rid of whatever this was. I was simply lulled to sleep with no fight left in me. Oh, of course I prayed the cover all prayer over my family, but could see by the way my children were handling everyday life that they needed more prayer than just pleading the blood of Jesus over them every day. They needed that warrior woman to pick her sword back up and get her armor in check and go to war on their behalves. We needed restoration and healing so badly in our lives. I felt like that when God got tired of me being in this place that He would come to my rescue and without any help on my part and rescuing me is exactly what He did by sending me this book.

Out of all the manifestations I ever had in my life, I never expected to see myself running away to survive. I never dreamed I had to run from my country to save my life. As I peered through my window, looking down from the butterscotch-hue sky. I could see clouds of damp smoke and dust rising up from the ground. Bombings in Managua took place almost immediately. I had a flashback moment; Grandpa Luna once shared his family stories. The one that really stick out the most was about his grandfather who emigrated from Italy. His grandmother also emigrated from Germany. They came to America in the 1840s. His grandfather Angelo F. Cagliero was a nineteen-year-old, who, like me, also survived a war. The difference was that he fought to defend his country from the French. Cagliero eventually graduated as a lawyer at one of the most prestigious university of the world in Rome. However, when he shared his convictions in the open; his own people just like Nicaragua persecuted him. The Italian government was not-yet-unified. He was a political philosopher and freethinker regarding religion; his qualities made him a dangerous man. He was forced to emigrate, seeking freedom and religious liberty. He sailed to New York and arrived on a ship in the mid 1850s like most Europeans immigrants. My great grandfather Angelo fled his beloved country because he ran out of choices. I was reliving the same ordeal. I was a target just for being a young man, not because I differ with anyone’s

"In life, there are times when we choose our challenges and other times when the challenges simply choose us – Travis Roy. I don’t remember what happened to me, I was told I was hit by a car. I was placed in a medically induced coma, for a month. Slowly, the doctor lowered the sedatives to see how I can breathe on my own, within six weeks everything was removed. I woke up; there were family and friends around my hospital bed. I was confused because I had no idea what happened. Mom and Uncle Ray told me stories about how angry I was and would try to get out of bed.