The fourth grade was a very traumatic year for me. My only sister went to middle school, my mom who always was at home across the street from school got a job, and I didn’t know one person in my class. For the first time in my life I was on my own and I was frightened even by the idea of it. During that year my grades dropped and I wasn’t social with my classmates. I started to fail in my favorite class, math. The work became pointless to me and I started to neglect my work. One day, after I failed another one of those math tests, my teacher asked to talk to me after class. Due to the already annoying grade I had received, my teacher punished me with a detention. Confusion and frustration flooded my body and I just wanted to give up. But,
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 people tell you that high school would be the best time of your life, you don’t really understand the magnitude of what they’re saying until your time is coming to an end. A lot of people say that you “find yourself” in college. I, however, had the advantage of finding myself in high school. These past six years have been awesome, and I really mean it. I know it might not seem believable for a high school student to enjoy school, but I’m not lying about this stuff. I felt this way even before there was a scholarship to apply for. My mom taught me from a young age to enjoy going to school, and as much stress as it might have caused me over the years, I still loved every second of it. It’s easy to focus on the undesirable parts like sleep
The next day, I went straight home after school like my mother had said, she made me sit at the bench perched up on those hideous stools and do my homework until dinner time. She keeps telling me to respect our culture, and how if I were in Vietnam, I'd still be at school at this hour. Hearing about Asia frustrates me, it just reminds me that I don't belong anywhere. But I didn’t have a choice, I sat there alone in front of my open books. I was almost the queen of procrastination, so I found myself questioning why I let her dictate how I spent my afternoon and why those nasty girls at school
Little did I know that it was a trip to a tutoring hall? I looked at her “surprise” as an offense. I was not so unfortified that I needed someone to help me, I thought. Although I was a bit naïve and put up an impressive show to shrug off going to the tutoring hall. In the long run, I came around and decided to give this aid a try. Later that day, it came to be that I was introduced to the most extraordinary people that I have ever met. Not only were they friendly, they assisted and heard my struggles, and provided actual useful techniques that I can easily get accustomed to. Within weeks, I was reading far better than I have ever been. I was writing and reading more than I usually did. The confused and jealous looks of my peers powered my desire to keep practicing my literal skills. Things carried on like this for a while throughout the year, we were given assignments, essays, book reviews, things of that sort; nothing I couldn’t handle. Around the end is where things got really interesting.
When my mom would send me off to school, nobody ever liked the new guy. I felt so scared, and awkward.I was bullied because of the color of my skin. I tended to be a little darker not only because of my roots but because long hard hours working with my dad after school. Resulted of me having sun burns. I was called every name in the book,and it was tough for me. Having to go to school and get treated like an old rag was already enough to what I would come home everyday with. I’d just get home and right away start working with my dad just to start giving us some income. I had to get used to this type of work everyday for the rest of my life. I wasn't so sure even if I even wanted to keep going to school. I mean I was already not caring for school and working with my dad after school. I wanted to drop out. To leave everything behind. I didn't need to keep going. I was a nobody. Nobody wanted me. My classmates told me so many times. I started to believe
Being a freshman, in a new school, a new city, even a new state, frightened me going into my first day of school as a high school attendee. Chaparral High School in Phoenix, Arizona was considered to be the top high school in the state of Arizona, however it sure was not for me. There was an ample amount of kids who believed they were better than the kid next to them because of the money their parents possessed. This characteristic began to grow on me; without my own awareness. Furthermore, I began to talk back to my parents, acted as a terrible brother to both my two younger brothers who looked up to me, as well as, my friends back in El Paso, Texas did not even want to talk to me. I had become a monster in all my friend’s eyes.
In life, there are periods of transition in which individuals often face daunting challenges or obstacles. Overcoming these challenges at pivotal points of transition can impel the individual to develop essential character qualities and skills for surmounting adversity. My transition into high school was momentous. Here I knew that the decisions I made would likely have a strong impact on my future. Therefore, I had to be meticulous about the extracurricular activities I wanted to be involved in. This mindset allowed me to stay focused and determined because I wasn't fixated on going to the next party or the new music that was out. I cared solely about the legacy I left behind. That is why I decided to run for student government at the end of my sophomore year. The election
A fork in the road only appears as such when both paths are seen as viable options; yet, once one path becomes seen as the only one, the other devolves into a deviation. Where the aberration would require justification to travel down, the perceived correct course would require justification to not travel down. This is precisely how the false question of attending college was presented to me: it was a matter of when not if. Upon inheriting white looking skin, a middle class family, and a pat on the back for bringing home white sheets of papers with little red “A”s written in the top right corner, it was ascertained that I was to be a productive and successful engineer after paying for college with hard-won scholarship money. In short, there were several socio-economic factors that contributed to my eventual position in college.
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
When I walked up to the schoolyard, I felt tears pushing in my eyes. I walked over to the classroom door I was so familiar with, took of my shoes, and walked into the classroom. I was greeted with cheers from the students, but this only made it worse for me.
Tears stung in my eyes as I gazed down at the dreaded product of neglect, already feeling a cold weight tug at my heart. Looking at my practice log, I determined that within the twenty-four hours remaining before it was due, I needed to make up the eight hours of practicing I had been lazily putting off. After informing my mom of this impossible feat, she told me that I would not be staying up past midnight to practicing as a meager attempt to salvage my grade. The next day I turned in my log with a hint of discouragement as I awaited my grade. I didn’t fail the class, but I still had to live with the knowledge that I could have done better. I tried to justify what happened by saying I wasn’t used to Jr. High with its additional seven classes,
Toward the last days of my high school days, I was told that I was a troubled kid that needed serious disciplinary actions. I wished someone in school had understood my situation. I wished someone had spoken up for me. But it was their words against mine and mine was silent. I was not a troubled kid. I wished someone at school, the principal, the teachers, had read this quote by Annette Breaux, “Remember: everyone in the classroom has a story that leads to misbehavior and defiance. 9 times out of 10, the story behind the misbehavior won’t make you angry. It will break your heart”. Maybe then they might have explored deeper into my situation. My entire childhood was filled with isolation, abuse, and neglect. I was born in Hong Kong, the youngest
What has my journey to graduation been like for me? My journey has been a crazy, fun-filled learning adventure. I met many goals and accomplishments I set for myself but I also faced some challenges on the way. For example, I finally met my goal of graduating with a 4.6 GPA and maintaining it. Also, I accomplished completing my last four years of grade school and now I am on the way to college. My last year has been interesting and there are many goals, accomplishments and challenges I can reflect on.