I graduated highschool a year early. I was seventeen years old and it was in the year of 2015. I decided in January 2015 that I was ready to be done with my high scool career,so I went to talk to my counselor and expressed to her that I was ready to walk the stage as soon as possible. The counselor starred at her desktop and got to work for about five to ten mintes, then she looked at me and said "Well, alright the earliest you can graduate is August 2015." I think I may have just stared at her blankly for a second, but I snapped back to reality and became eager to know the steps I would need to take to make this happen. Fast forward to the end of the school year, while everyone is excited for summer break, I was excited to enroll in my summer courses and get the ball rolling for graduation. August approached very quickly and before I knew it I was walking across a stage with a navy blue, silver, and white cap and gown on. The smile on my face was as bright as the sun and I walked with my chest as high as Mount Everest; I was proud. Now, that I had graduated I needed to figure out what I wanted to make of my life. I quickly thought of the military because that is what I was used too. I lived in Killeen, Tx, which is the surrounding city of Fort Hood. Almost everyone in Killeen was either in the military, parent's were in the military, or retired from the mlitary, so this was the norm of the city. September 2015 I reached out to SSG Grey, a recruiter in Harker Heights, TX.
On December 5 Phillis Wheatley, John and Susanna Wheatley’s servant, died due to complications of child birth. Phillis Wheatley was born in Senegal, Africa around 1753. At 8 years old she was kidnapped and then was brought to Boston, Massachusetts to be a servant for Susanna Wheatley. The only known memory about Phillis’s family is about her mother performing a ritual.
A famous saying in today’s times is that “history always repeats itself.” This can be seen at the center of U.S. politics, cultural events, and many other key parts of society. Nia DaCosta’s popular 2021 film “Candyman” also connects to the popular saying. The story of the recent Candyman can be seen as either a version of the 1992 original or a sequel. The modern story follows an artist, Anthony McCoy, struggling through an art block until he hears about the legend of “Candyman.”
Growing up, I watched a fair amount of television. Being the late 1990s and early 2000s, some of my favorites included Sesame Street, The Rugrats, Veggie Tales, and Little Bill. All of which, starred mostly male characters. At the time, I didn’t think much of it; it made sense for boys to be the stars. All of my teddy bears had boy names, the gender neutral characters in my books were boys, and I even called my female cat a boy. It wasn’t until later when I became more educated on gender inequality and stereotypes that I noticed the problem on television and in other aspects of my childhood that affected the way that I thought.
My eyes squinted as I gazed towards the massive building that for the next four years would be my success, demise, and most importantly, my high school. As I strut to the tall glass doors, I felt so prepared, confident even. Armed with a couple of best friends, sufficient intelligence, and adequate athleticism, I was positive that everything would go perfectly. After all, high school was the place of beginnings, a place where my friends and I would battle through together; high school wasn’t the place where everything would fall apart.
Before I truly began to walk with Jesus, I was under the impression that I always had been. I was baptized as a baby, attended the same church my entire childhood, and spouted off every Sunday school answer without missing a beat. I loved the Lord, and I understood that he was my Savior and Creator, but I did not fully understand to what capacity I had been saved and created. I was missing something, and at age thirteen I developed a serious case of perfectionism. I closely monitored what I ate, religiously worked out, and devotedly studied to obtain unbeatable grades. I practiced piano every day until my wrists hurt and would except no less than flawless performances. I was captain of the cheer squad, and often referred to as “little miss perfect.” At a young age, I had constructed an image of what I thought I should be. Behind the facade, I was extremely lonely and insecure, but assumed those feelings were just middle school angst that would subside when I entered high school.
As I gain more experience through learning in situations I find myself in, my mind flashes back to memories I have gained. A native of inner city Charlotte, North Carolina, many of my memories inspire me to continue growing with knowledge, so that I can help those whose decisions have mentally hindered them from growing intellectually. My mother had me at the age of sixteen, so the first knowledge I obtained about the world was learned through her experience as a teenage mother with dark skin in America. My family lineage is rooted in environments of low-income communities. My mother, one out of six, was raised in a household with both parents who were employed. Her mother and father, my grandparents, strived to make ends meet for the family without obtaining a high school diploma. My mother did not receive her high school diploma neither. My grandparents felt it necessary to raise me while my mother enrolled into a housing voucher program and rented her own apartment. I was enrolled into a head start program at the age of four, which helped me prepare for public schooling.
Anyone that believes high school is the best four years of your life is grossly misinformed. That would mean the highlight of our lives consists of puberty, standardized testing, and awkward conversations. It’s a constant battle for respect from peers that believe themselves better than others. Regardless of our role in the hierarchical atmosphere, a large portion of high school students get sucked into the whirlwind of spirit and pride. I know I did. How could we not? We spend our friday nights freezing at sporting events to support our friends, our family, and our high school: the only identifying piece of information fellow Missouri residents will ask us about for decades. I’ve been out of high school for less than two years, but the most commonly asked questions among new friends and coworkers still remains: where did you go to high school? Personally, I attended Parkway South. I never planned to go back to high school but a service learning opportunity presented itself and I took an unexpected path.
I have always been a shy person since I was a little kid. I was always nervous to go do things with people or to make a mistake in front of people. I remember in the 7th grade, the teacher called on me, and I had been paying attention but I got the question confused so I said something that was wrong. I felt the whole class just stare at me and laugh. Ever since then I have always struggled with self confidence. I lacked self confidence in just about everything, like what clothes to wear, what to say to people, talking in front of a class, etc.
So far in life, my passion has been educating myself to the fullest extent. Ever since I was in middle school, though not as understanding, I knew that all I really wanted to do was take in as much information that the world had to offer for me. Starting with advanced math classes, to other challenging AP courses. I even took the Calculus one and two course at my high school, through PSU, and did everything I could in order to prepare for Calculus three and four at PSU. Yet no matter what boundaries I pushed in high school, nothing was comparable to a real college course. Calculus three and four was by far my most rigorous academic challenge I have ever faced. Through devoting the most time and effort I have ever put into anything, I
The high school I attended was very different. The last two years- junior and senior year- I was allowed to choose the classes I wanted to take. Having this opportunity I always avoided taking an English class. I never enjoyed it and one thing I disliked was writing papers on why I don’t like writing papers. I envied the people who enjoyed writing because as we get older that is a crucial thing we need. In many of my papers I was unable to maintain focus, need to use more transitions words, and lacked the proper knowledge on how to do a correct works cited. I have learned to fix some of my mistakes, but on other things I still need improvement. On my first paper, I struggled with staying focus on my topic. Second essay I struggled with transitioning my ideas from one to another. Lastly, I improved on both my lack of focus on my papers and I included more transition words.
August 2009, in the dead heat of summer I awoke with excitement for the day to come. Shooting up out of my bed to look at my clock. It reads six o’clock in the morning. Going down my checklist in my head I start getting ready for the day. Today is the first day of band camp. Two weeks of sweating your ass off in the blazing Florida sun and enjoying every minute of it.
So far in life my passhion has been educating myself to the fullest extent. Ever since I was in middle school, though not as understanding, I knew that all I really wanted to do was take in as much information that the world had to offer for me. Starting with advanced math classes, to other challenging Ap courses. I even took the Calculus one and two course at my high school, through PSU, and did everything I could in order to prepare for Calculus three and four at PSU. Yet no matter what boundaries I pushed in high school, nothing was comparible to a real college course. Calculus three and four was by far the biggest academic challenge I have ever faced. Through devoting the most time and effort I have ever put into anything, I passed the class.
Growing up I was a very shy person. I was the type of girl who hid her feelings because that's just what I was used too. My parents separated when I was only four years old. It was hard for me because I didn't have my parents together. It made me feel like it was my fault. They would argue about who was going to watch me when they went to work or how they couldn't afford somethings for me. I felt like like I couldn't talk to them about how I felt and that's why in school I would always shut people out when it came to my feelings. I remember teacher trying to talk to me but all I would do is shut them out, teacher after teacher. I knew that coming into Pritzker I was going to have a difficult time and I was going to have no one there to talk to.
When I was a freshman starting in Gladstone High School, all I thought my only goal was to actively participate in the classes that I needed to go to college. I was reluctant of high school since I did not know what to expect. I was not the athletic one but I was smart in academics. However, there was one event during the middle of my freshman year that presented a challenge I had to face.
As you grow old and begin your adventure through high school your mind begins to grasp the darkness this world has to offer. Remember that at the end of the path it’s the choices you make and don’t make that will determine what will be at the end of the trail. You are fifteen now my grandson and I know from experience that the evil of this world has already presented itself to you in many forms. Alcohol, drugs, and drama are all a part of life and what many go through including myself. The high school is full of new experiences and the decisions you choose to make that will stick with you for a lifetime.