My Senior Year At A Sports Camp

My eighth grade year of Middle school. I had many challenges, with making friends and subjects. But one challenge was mathematics.I knew my eighth grade year was most important when it came transferring into my high school years, yet I didn’t do anything to raise my grade in mathematics at that time. It wasn’t until two I had a very low grade in mathematics on my report card at that I realized I needed to do something about my low grade. So after that report in math, I really was determined to really bring that F up to at least a B or A. So I remember I started to go to after school tutoring to get help with my math subject. They placed me with a teacher named Ms.Alice. And she really helped me with my subject.

When junior year ended last summer, I felt like I knew exactly what was coming my way-- after all, I watched three different groups of my friends go through senior years of their own. It was finally my turn to experience senior year, something it seemed I had known about for years, and I felt like senior year would be easygoing and uneventful. Now, it has taken just a few short months to realize how incorrect I was. If senior year has taught me anything, it is that one never really knows what comes next for them, even if they have a good idea. The monumental highs, as well as the deepest of lows, have kept me on my toes throughout my senior year.

Freshman year, I imagined that year to be amazing. I wanted it to just have an awesome flow but did it? It did in the beginning then a bomb went off during the middle of the year and turned freshman year into a complete disaster. Freshman year was supposed to be about having a great start to the rest of your high school life before you enter the big bad world but other students just couldn't help themselves but to create that bomb during the middle of my freshman year.

On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade

My memories are blurry. They are fragments of disjointed moments, without a linear narrative. I remember reading. It was in Mrs. Davidson first grade class. My reading proficiency skills were very poor, the English language still thick and unnatural on my tongue. While some of the other students took a Gifted class, I had to take a remedial course—English Learners (EL)— just so that I could hold onto the edge. I remember reading. I had a hard copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar in my little hands, reciting only the first page of the book from memory. The classroom was dark; the stream of sunlight filtering through the windows served as our only illumination. The rest of the words on the book looked like a mess of jumbled letters. I couldn’t make out anything other than the words “the” and “and.” I remember enthusiastically pointing out my “fluency” to my teacher, seemingly applauding my menial abilities: “The catpater at droo!” (The caterpillar ate through). In the first-grade, my free time was spread sporadically between watching The Little Mermaid, catching ugly black crickets and pretending that I was Sailor Moon, guardian of the galaxy. In the first grade, I was not at all concerned with words, literacy and books. In the first grade, I did not know the power that words hold. I did not know that books would change my life.

The warm breeze blows past me as I open the door to the Sweetwater Middle School. Shouts and hoots of excitement about the New Year came from behind me as I speak amid my social circle. It was going to be a wonderful year with delightful students and teachers. By the end of the year I knew to have been mistaken to think it would work out for me.

East Carolina’s Concert band and Symphonic band performed on Tuesday, February 16, at seven thirty in the evening in Wright Auditorium. Being a duel performance it included over a hundred of my talented East Carolina peers led by outstanding band Directors Dr. Juchniewicz and Dr. Staub. Along with great students and Directors, the show incorporated a beautiful trombone solo performed by a fellow colleague. Although I have never attended a concert where such style of music was being performed, I did enjoy the music being played and most of them sounded as if I heard them before. The professionalism the students portrayed and maintain to the audience was breathtaking and made me honored to be their peers.

In fifth grade, I played my first cincernt on the alto saxophone and I was as neurotic as a cat that hears a mouse hiding in a wall. With butterflies fluttering , I found a way to be optimistic. The concert was in the huge Kilmas Field House at MHS. The glazed over basketball court was a very awkward and a not ver acoustic place to play a concert. But somehow for as long as anyone can remember, Methuen has help the Band Jambore when grades 5-12 all play pieces of music and at the

As popularised by the 1999 film “American Pie,” nearly everyone is familiar with the phrase “this one time at band camp,” followed by some hilarious, vulgar, or downright ridiculous tale that happened under the guise of a week of musical performance. However, fewer can claim to have actually experienced band camp and what it has to offer — fortunately, I am one of those few. Throughout my four years of marching band, performing on the sousaphone, I have had countless moments that have shaped me into the individual I am; however, for the sake of concision, it seems most fitting to discuss my very first band camp, a month prior to beginning high school as a freshman. It would be unreasonable to not discuss the social impact of that week. Before

Towards the end of my senior year of high school, I was preparing for the next chapter of my life. I would be attending UC Davis in the summer for a four weeklong orientation program, specifically for first generation college students. This was the first time I would be leaving home by myself to a different country and it was the first time in over eight years that I would be exposed to the American culture. I did not have any roots in any American city nor did I have a so-called “home state.” However, if there was one thing for sure, it was that Germany was my home and it has been for the majority of my life. In this paper, I will be discussing how the following topics in sociology: culture, socialization, and identity are related to my move from Germany to California as well as how I felt during the entire situation.

Ever since I stepped foot in my high school band program, I aspired to exceed my band director’s expectations and be able to perform to the best of my ability as a member of such a successful program. My band director has always been, and remains to this day, an exceptional

Band brings unforgettable memories. Band brings once in a lifetime opportunities, and students will cherish those memories for the rest of their lives

A few days preceding my official start of attending this brand new school, my guidance counselor promptly decided to give me a tour so I would somewhat able to to navigate myself. As she asked me question after question about what classes sparked my interest and the current state of my grades, band inevitably came up. As we travelled our

You enter the large set of double doors leading into the main hallway of yet another new school. Your mind drifts to your old school as you observe your own reflection in the glass insets of the entry doors inviting you into a new world. A world you’d rather not be a part of, not now. This is not a new experience. It’s one that keeps repeating itself over and over. Larson Junior High will make the second school you’ve attended in the short time of being a ninth grader, and a total of eight schools since beginning the first grade.

In the spotlight of stage fright, I started marching toward the 50 yard line, setting down my other flags along the way. The line was only a few more steps away, but it looked like it was a million miles away. With every step I took, my breathing got faster, my knuckles clenched my