Norwich University-Personal Narrative Analysis

Cameron Academy, the place where it all started for me. The first ever school that I had gone to. It was the place where I learned to fear anyone older and bigger than you because the teenagers there were not above fighting kindergarteners. Where I learned that the safest place to be after school was the office because the fights between the police and the students that took place outside on the front steps of the school were too brutal for me to witness; at least that's what my mom told me. That school was the place where I learned to be ashamed of any art that I may produce, to always keep it to myself, lest I be laughed at by the teachers. Cameron Academy is where I learned that “bad” kindergarteners who were in Ms. Valorie’s class got beat up.

We have been in school for the past thirteen years of our lives, seven hours a day five days a week. We have gotten to know more of our teachers personal life than our parents, we know each other better than our family members. We have all learned a great deal of complicated math, english, history, and science but for some odd and interesting reason all i can remember is that a2 +b2=c2 and that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. It could be because i repeated the pythagorean theorem five times before i took my test or because Ms. Senneseth was a great teacher. Even though our general classes were fun the two years i was in color guard were very exciting i learned knew things about myself like the fact that i am flexible and that

I believe that the best dreams are ones that you share with people, who conceive them be so preposterous that they cannot help but laugh in your face that you could even think of possibly reaching that point one day. Entering High School, I had begun taking basketball more seriously than any other sport and had the goal of earning a Division 1 scholarship. Which would be the first step in making my dream of playing professionally a reality.

When I first stepped foot on the campus of Western Michigan university, I felt as if I was at my new home. My tour guide, Cal, was very friendly and informative. Everyone on campus waved to our group. They were happy to see prospective students. The campus was beautiful and the living quarters were nice as well. I liked the interactions on campus and how personal the experience was. I like the small class sizes and statistics for success. I like that Western is a bigger school, but it is still quite small. I can see myself going to WMU in the future.

When I think of a life extremely fulfilled, I think of traveling the world. As a little girl, however, I could not imagine even traveling outside of the United States. My life was flipped upside down when I found out that my dad was offered a four year job in Japan. Even though I was only in the fifth grade, I was completely content with my life. I had everything I needed, I was friends with everyone, and I was not willing to leave New York and give up all my friendships that had grown over the past five years.

One late night in early June, as the moon rose from the ground and time slowly progressed, I sat at my desk binge studying for my upcoming ACT the next morning as well as trying not to pass out from mental exhaustion. My head felt heavy trying to understand math and grammar aspects that haven’t been taught to me since my eighth grade year of junior high and freshman year in high school. Soon enough, my motivation for trying to reconnect my old knowledge with my new lessened my ability to keep my eyes opened and I eventually decided my body needed to rest for the following day.

Failure, It is not an easy thing for people to accept. Everyone wants to be good at everything they do. Whether it is riding a bike, playing video games, playing a sport such as baseball or football or anything for that matter. In my personal experience I have of course been unsuccessful at things in life but, life goes on and I have learned from my mistakes. From the time I was about five years old all the way until I was fourteen, I loved to play baseball. I played other sports too but baseball was the one sport I really enjoyed. As time went on, baseball became harder, things got more competitive and one year I decided I was not going to play anymore.

After having spent Seventeen years in Austin, Texas, my husband and I decided to make a move to Denver, Colorado for his work. The move itself was uneventful. The question I had for myself was, what was I going to do in a new location. Back in Austin, I had worked in a Beauty Salon as a Massage Therapist for the last six years. My husband needed a new start and he applied to a company that he felt would be beneficial to his job experience. This in turn caused us to pull up stakes and move to a new area. It wasn't too long after we'd moved, that I met an elderly lady who asked me, if I was busy on Mondays. I replied, that at this time I was in the process of looking for something to do outside the house. She invited me to come with her and

When I first began thinking about college, freshman year of high school, I was excited but very nervous at the same time. I wanted to make sure I chose the right school for both myself and my career. I knew I wanted somewhere close to home, but not too close. UNC Wilmington was the perfect fit for me all around. Being only two hours from home and having the academics I needed, I knew that was the college for me. After being here for only two weeks, I can already say, I made a good decision.

I went into my freshman year of high school with little to no knowledge of anything about music. Right off the bat my amazing choir teachers started teaching me and my classmates solfege and sight-reading. I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew that I was a part of something very special. After my first semester, I gained a serious amount of confidence in my solo singing. I auditioned for the first time ever at the Missouri district solo auditions at the end of my second semester freshman year. I sang my two pieces, and thought I would just sing for the experience not caring if I went to state solo auditions. I ended up receiving the best score possible, and a near perfect judging sheet. Looking at my accomplishment, I realized that I was

The sound of the Cessna 152's engine was one that I knew all too well. That familiar buzzing sound's constant ring in my ear, aside from the voice of my instructor, was often the only sound I would ever hear during my flight lessons. On November 2, 2012, however, that would be subject to change. This time, I heard an unfamiliar one: sirens. It was faint, almost impossible to hear, but nonetheless it was there. I opened my window, rolled the plane 30°, looked down to see the remains of what was my home, the Jersey Shore, and my heart sank. My grip on the yoke relaxed, and my instructor immediately noticed. Once I heard him say the words, "My plane," I was done flying. The sirens I heard were from the innumerable flashing lights below me. Rubble was now the only tourist attraction, and it stretched for as far as the eye could see. I had only been flying for two months now, and until this point I had taken my flying lessons for granted, originally seeing them only as a fun

The screeching of my dad’s tires made me cringe as we turned into a forested area. The day was new and I was going away on a camping trip for the weekend with my three best friends: Carly, Jacob and Ben. Ever since high school started the four of us have been tied at the hip. We had been through so much together in the past couple of years it is too complicated to explain, but this weekend we were letting go of it all and embracing the great outdoors, or whatever. My parents dropped us off at a forest about fifty miles from the city where all sorts of people from our town camp out in the summer. After about an hour of traveling, we pulled into an empty lot to unload all of our supplies.

“The mind loves the unknown. It loves images whose meaning is unknown, since the meaning of the mind itself is unknown.” - Rene Magritte, Belgian surrealist artist.

I got in the car with a few books, my kindle, and phone. My mom helped me set up a place of my brother and I to charge our electronics then we started driving. It was quite while we all lived in our own worlds for a few minutes: soon after my mom showed my dad a book she listened to an audible and the silence was broken by the book for hours. I read while listening and then we were there. As time passed my brother and I had gone on many road trips and were extremely good at waiting in car to arrive at exciting areas. We stopped halfway to our eventual destination, the Redwoods.

The University of Colorado Boulder was where I started my collegiate journey a little less than three years ago. Although I have enjoyed the time I have spent in Colorado, the realization that it wasn't a conducive environment for me had set in from the instant I walked into my first class. Our generation has been deemed the "entitled" generation, the generation that can't work for what they want to accomplish, the ones that can't coach themselves out of a bad situation. Having these pains and stereotypes stuck in my mind has deterred me from pursuing other courses of action. Deluding myself into thinking that I held "the grass is greener" mentality. I fought through what I knew was the wrong place for me to be, just to try to make it work.