My Microsystem Analysis

I remember the first day I walked into my kindergarten class, I clenched my mother’s hand with all my might to prevent her from letting go. The kids around me, whom I supposed were my classmates, had long let go of their mother’s had and were playing together, and even as a five year old, at that point I felt like an outsider. I pleaded my mom to not leave but my attempts failed as I found myself alone yet surrounded by complete strangers. As I stood in the center of the room while pushing back my tears and eyeing my mother make her way out the door, I heard the teacher call my name. I timidly walked towards the spot on the yellow carpet she was signaling at for me to sit on. I heard Mrs. Ross’s soothing voice but no matter how much I concentrated

When I was nine years old, I lived in a well-known area in Florida; I lived in a semi-big house that we all called the yellow house. My family called it the yellow house because out of our entire neighborhood we were the only family with a bright yellow house. My family and I had lived in the yellow house for a total of four years, starting from when I was four. The house was a big part of my life because I had watched it being built so I had an emotional attachment with it. During the last year when my family and I lived there, my mom became pregnant with her fifth child. Around the same time my mom and my sisters constantly visited my grandmother up in a small town in Georgia. Up in Georgia my mom had made one friend that lived in the neighborhood so me and my sisters became good friends with his kids.

     Going back forty-five years is not an easy task to complete because I can’t remember some of the finer details of my childhood. I know I was born on a hot August afternoon in Birth Year at Place Of Birth in City ands State. My mother was just twenty-two at the time and was already the mother of two, I was her third child. My father was twenty-one and already a workaholic, I know because my mother would constantly remind me not to be like that. My mother and father were good parents and they tried to give us the best upbringing they could. My father was the kind of person that believed he should provide and protect his family, and he did a very good job of doing that.

It all started on a warm sunny day, my dad had just arrived from Michigan. He came into the house gave my siblings, my mother and me a hug and told us the big news. “We are moving to Michigan” he said. He said it so calmly as if expecting my siblings, my mother and myself to react in a good way. Immediately I started to panic, I didn’t want to leave the place I grew up in. I was only eleven years old, I didn’t know how the people in Michigan would be. Finally I spoke “ I don’t want to move dad, I love it here!” which he responded with “I’m sorry but we are going to move because we can’t afford to live here anymore” He said this so emotionless as if not knowing how this could affect me. I hardly got any sleep that night for the fact that my parents were arguing for what felt like all night, but in reality was just an hour.

Microsystem and Mesosytem: Maria is an 11-year-old African American and is in the fifth grade at a local charter school. She is average height for a girl her age. She appears healthy, but may be slightly overweight for her age. Maria wears her hair in braids and wears barrettes in it. Her favorite color is pink and her favorite subject is math. Her hobbies include painting her nails, baking in her EasyBake Oven “even though it doesn’t taste as good”, and she enjoys hanging out with her friends. Maria is very outgoing and very chatty. She was very open and freely shared information with us. We observed Maria in the Avondale Boys and Girls club, so some of her behaviors may be inconsistent with her everyday personality.

Awaking with the knowledge that the room I had slept in for the past six years would not be the same room that I would rest my head that evening or for six more years was a hard idea to consume. After taking the final morning stretch and dressing for the day, I awaited the moving truck to make its presence known in front of our big yellow apartment building surrounded by a white picket fence. While waiting said truck we began to finish packing our left over dishes and clothing. During that time, I returned to my room I began to take down my posters, plastic ceiling stars that I would stare at every night and ponder the future over and pack them into a nearby crate. I was thirteen at the time of the move and a recent graduate of elementary school, I remember feeling like such an elder, but I assumed that I would graduate elementary school, go to one of the best high schools in my area, and then go to college in New York so that I was not too far from home but finally had the opportunity to fulfill that need for difference I always thirsted for as a child. It was when the back of our moving van was opened that I realized that I would not get to obtain any of those goals and that it was best to move forward and begin to accept the new

I Don’t remember much of my family when I was little, But I can tell you that I am thankful for the family that I have. At the age of two my mom and dad had to make some tough decisions by leaving me in Nicaragua with my grandmother and grandfather , but I don’t want you to think that my mom and dad did not care about me , about leaving me behind. But the reason behind as why my parents had to make that decision was because of my brother Marco who had a heart decease. That in Nicaragua there wasn’t enough resources to make a heart surgery so they decided to live the country to migrate to THE UNITED STATE so they could do a open heart surgery to my brother, in which my brother did not make it . At the age of five year old I remember sitting in the stairs in front of the house, it was a cloudy day while I was sitting their I recall looking at the sky and thinking about my mom and dad were they could be at the time I was looking at the sky.

I was born and raised in the wonderful and populous city of Houston. At first I possessed a young and carefree attitude,but slowly my thoughts started to revolve around the real world in different ways. Not always was I able to get the things I desired due to various circumstances, such as not enough money. This started to pave way to my deeper thoughts about the world, and how I wished to become someone who would take care of my parents. Slowly, I started to witness the problems and worries of my parents concerning monetary issues and so forth. My parents always smile brightly and did not show any signs of pain, because they did not want to worry a small child like me.After witnessing some of their occasional pain, this also hurt me and made

As an eight-year-old in the fourth grade, I had yet to develop an understanding of the world. I believed every family had two parents. I believed all children lived in houses and attended school. And I believed a variety of other utopian and idealistic situations to be reality. Media, adults, and other influences lead me to believe that the only thing I had to worry about were my birthday gifts. This false pretense was clearly contradicted when I was presented with the news that my father had cancer. It was a weekend in the fall, and I was playing with various toys and games. My mother shouted down to the basement that we were having a family meeting. Although this did not inspire me, I eventually stumbled up the steps and staggered into the living room. In the room, I joined my brother, sister, and parents. As a took a seat, I readied myself for the

It was a late summer afternoon in Crenshaw Los Angles. The sun is setting and I was sitting at the stairs of the two apartment building I lived at. I was waiting for my dad to return from work. Down in the street gust of wind blew torn paper into spirals. The sun was shining through the bright blue empty sky making it hard to see through the distance as the light shines through my eyes. My father was walking towards me with the harsh light of the sun outlining his body. As my father began to come closer to me the sun began to set even more. Light fading away as soon as my father stood in front of me. As he stood in front of me I was able to smell the fresh paint that was stained on his pants all the way up to his neck. He then squats down in

I was 11 when my parents were taken away. I remember vividly what happened that day. It had been a warm and sunny day, my parents had come back from work at the outskirts of ‘The Main’; my father was a farmer and my mother packaged items to send to ‘The Central’. The night was cold, and because my family were ‘brown eyes’ we were treated differently from the others meaning that we couldn’t pay for light or heat. We barely even made enough for a meal once a day. I was sitting at the table eating my soup while my parents were in the kitchen talking. My house was very small, we only had four rooms; the sitting room, the kitchen, the hall, and the bedroom which we had to share. I was almost done with my soup when I heard a loud banging

7th grade was the year I woke up. My mom called me into her bedroom late one afternoon and was still sitting on her bed, wearing her pajamas. The bright and cheerful sunshine that lit up the room gave a false ambiance of the tension that clouded the air. I already knew what she was going to say, but I did not want to believe it as the truth. I had noticed that my mom and dad's relationship with one another was growing apart just by the way they acted around each other. The conversations between them became shorter and their affection for one another began to fade. My dad spent his nights falling asleep watching TV on the couch, while my mom slowly disappeared back into her bedroom, alone. This had been happening for a while now, so I do not know why I was even surprised when my mom said to me that, “Your dad and I are getting a divorce”. I should have seen it coming. The clues were all in front of me, but I was too afraid to put them together. I was scared because, for the first time in my life, the image of my "perfect" family was crumbling before me. I knew inside that my family was falling apart, but I was desperately holding onto the fibers that I thought were keeping us together. It is hard to believe that one encounter can change the course of one's life forever. In this instance, I was awoken from the dream that I had been living in for so long.

My parents worked hard and strived for their success, people often thought because my mother dressed me very nice that I had money. I recall growing up in a one bedroom apartment, but as my parents worked to gain more knowledge through college and grad school that they would able to provide a better life for me as I grew older. My mother works as a social worker and dad a Veteran of the United States Army and currently possesses a degree in Business Administration society labeled us as stuck up rich girl. My grandparents often told me stories of days on the farm and working for ten cents a day to earn fifty cents a week. I was taught to be thankful for the small things and big things would come. My childhood often bring tears to my eyes as

As a young girl, I never quite understood the importance my dad’s job had on me until I became much older. Throughout my childhood I was often mistreated out of the sight of my parents. From brutal words to simple exclusion, I never really fit in at my church. I was constantly separated from all of the children because I was the Pastor’s

In the microsystem stage, my family, significant other, and school has impacted my development. My family consist of my parents and my 6 brothers. Also my significant other of five years. Growing up, my parents were very traditional asian parents who were always strict on the things I do and enforces a lot of strict rules for me, so hanging out with friends and going out was tough on me, But. they are always supportive to the things I wanted to do like working late at night and continuing my education. I’ve been with my significant other for 5 years and he is a year older than me, he has always been supportive and patient with me whenever I have a breakdown. Times were I was stressed from school, he made sure I ate or order me meals, making