My Memories And Memories Of A Day In My Life

Looking back over the years, it is hard to forget those early days in kindergartner. Many of us came to school so afraid to be away from our moms and dads. Lots of tears were shed in those early days, but I will never forget how I learned to be brave. Stepping away from mom and dad was the hardest thing ever, especially for a five year old. Interestingly enough though, a five year old quickly forgets what they are missing when they get to play with a table full of shaving cream and meet of legion of new best friends. Kindergarten was all about learning new things and being okay with trying new experiences.

The apples is for when I was 5, and I started kindergarten at John Clarke Elementary School in the small town of Rockville, MN. I did not attend pre-school, so this was the first experience that I had will the school system. I was very excited and nervous to attend school, I loved being the only kid at home/daycare all day while all of my older siblings were in school. By this time, I had also grown a bit more shy, I was nervous about not having or being able to make friends, being as we lived in the country, and I wouldn’t really know anyone, where all the other kids all lived in the same neighborhoods, and attended preschool together already. Lucky for me kindergarten was only a half day long, and it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be to make

I glance amusedly at the photo placed before me. The bright and smiling faces of my family stare back me, their expressions depicting complete happiness. My mind drifted back to the events of the day that the photo was taken. It was Memorial Day and so, in the spirit of tradition my large extended family had gathered at the grave of my great grandparents. The day was hot and I had begged my mother to let me join my friends at the pool. However, my mother had refused. Inconsolable, I spent most of the day moping about sulkily. The time came for a group picture and so my grandmother arranged us all just so and then turned to me saying, "You'd better smile Emma or you'll look back at this and never forgive yourself." Eager to please and

The person I chose to write about is my sister Quella Jackson. She works as a supervisor at an all female facility called New Life Children’s Center in Canyon Lake, TX.Women account for 22% of people in her position (Employed 2017). Due to the nature of her work, I am not allowed on the campus and the getting a picture would be quite tricky. So while she was preparing food in their kitchen, she decided to FaceTime me and I saw an opportunity to get my picture. This photo is very meaningful to me because first, it was taken on my birthday, and two, I look up to my sister. I chose my sister to photograph because I grew up in a large family and my older sister essentially raised me.

I clearly remember the night before your first day of kindergarten. After we had packed your snacks and lunch, laid out your outfit and tucked you like a mummy into bed, Dad and I sat on our bed talking about the school years to come. We were excited for you, of course, but I was also emotional. I started crying, telling Dad that I was afraid to let you go out into the big world by yourself, afraid that people – kids – might be mean to you and I wouldn’t be there to protect you. Dad, in his usual way, reassured

I was 5 years old ready to take on the world with my Blue’s Clues backpack. It was the first day of kindergarten and I walked into a class room that had red animated apples on the walls, and letters boarding the top of the walls. My teacher seems so happy to see all the kids coming into the class and you could tell that many of us were nervous to be there, and be away from our parents for half of the day when we were used to being at home. The teacher went over all the fun and exciting things we would be learning over the year and at the end of the year we would show our portfolio to our parents, apparently, that was something my school did for each grade. We were introduced to writing letters which at the time I didn’t like very much since my name was so long and they give you such little lines to write it on. As a kindergartener, you feel the need to write your name a big as possible. What I love

When I was 5 years old I was to go to Kindergarten. The thing is that I didn't do preschool at a public school so I had to change to Rio Calaveras. My first time entering Rio Calaveras I say how beautiful the school was and slowly I entered my Kindergarten class.

My first day of kindergarten was not a happy day for me. I was scared and wanted to go home. The environment was unfamiliar to me. Entering into kindergarten at the age of four is a normative event. I recall my mother giving me a kiss on the cheek, smiling at me and told me everything would be okay and then walked away. I did not cry; I just watched her walk away. What stood out the most for me, is that none of the children or teachers looked like me. I was the only African American in my kindergarten class. I had enough sense to know that something was different.

Firstly, the first photo Is me and my family at the youth fair. My family love to go to the youth fair every year. What my mom loves more than the food and rides is taking pictures. When we went to the fair as we walked in to enjoy the rides the photographer comes and persuades me and my family to take a family photo. We weren’t going to take the photo but then my mom was

It was my first year in the elementary school with the older kids. The classroom had short tables and chairs, just for our size. Our backpacks were all hung up in the front of the room. There was a corner with building blocks and a shelve that sometimes held coloring pages. One of my favorite things about Kindergarten were the alphabet characters that were hung up on the ceiling. For each letter of the alphabet, there was a blow up cartoon character. Each one was doing a different action that had to do with the letter they represented. My favorite one was the character that symbolized “S”. His eyes were closed tight and he was in the middle of a

It was 2010 at Chain Of Lakes Elementary when I was in Kindergarten. I was only 6 and my was mind still developing. My mom taught 5th grade at this school which she enjoys doing. Everyone was nice but this isn’t their story. It’s mine. When playing games it’s always best to follow the rules.

To this day, I can still remember standing at the end of my driveway watching my mother arrive home from the bus stop. This day was different; she was not coming home empty handed. In fact, she had stopped at a yard sale on the way home and bought a prize for me, a doll named Suzy. This memory, from the age of two, embraces the story of my mother and my entire childhood. In Indianapolis, Indiana in September 1980, I was born to a single mother. Throughout her life, she worked for the phone company in downtown Indianapolis. Even though she raised us through hardships and despair, she always took the time to love my brother and me outwardly. Until second grade, I have no recollection of my father visiting more than three occasions. At last, in fourth grade we began to spend weekends at his house and with his family. Sadly, when I was eleven we learned that my father had cancer. One week before Christmas, after a school music program, I read his obituary in the paper and told my mother he had passed away. From that moment, our family forever changed, specifically my relationship with my mother.

My mother and I are very close, I tell her everything. I don’t remember the exact moment that this picture was taken, but I remember the event. In the picture you see my mother and I dancing, well what you can assume is dancing based on how we’re set up. My mother liked to hold me when we danced because I was too small to dance with normally. Of course, while my mom liked to dance with me, my dad liked to take pictures of the two of us. Whenever I look back on the laughs we shared, I can’t help but smile. That was the age of following my mom around the house, the age where I absolutely had to sleep in my mom’s bed, and if I didn’t, the first person I would call when I woke up was “mommy”. The age when I would squeeze into a chair next

Memories are one of the greatest gifts in life; bad memories are there for you to look back on and grow stronger, whereas the good memories wrap around you, and bring a smile to your face. Essentially our essence is built upon a collection of memories, from your first word to when you say “I do” to the person of your dreams. So if the life you built is held together by memories, what happens when the foundation starts to crumble, do you become an empty shell?

Throughout this paper I will be writing about my life, starting from my very first memory and ending with my life as it is now. Since I was brought into this world I had an older sister who is two and a half years older than I am. My parents said right away that my sister was so excited to have me in her life that she did not care that she was no longer the center of my parent’s attention. She acted as if I was her baby. When I was just starting out, as a toddler was the time that I started to develop my first memories, which are not all good. Lets start from the beginning, my first memory that I have of myself would be from when I was almost two years old. In this memory I was attending my papas funeral. I remember that there was the colour red everywhere, all over the walls and even on the seats. It was his favourite colour according to what my parents tell me. From this memory I also remember my parents walking me up to him during his wake and allowing my older sister and I to put a photo of us into his shirt pocket so we would always be with him. After this memory, my next one occurs when I am around the age of two as well. I remember being in my families first home sitting in our kitchen with my mom, on her lap wrapped in my little mermaid blanket, drinking a little bit of tea with her while we watched my older sister catch the bus to go to school. This is still one of my favourite memories because I truly fell that this helped shaped the person I am today. I also