Personal Narrative: Child Development

John says he knows better numerous time, “I am a doctor, dear, and I know. You are gaining flesh and color, your appetite is better. I feel really much easier about you.” The narrator being seen by John as less than him, he ignores her concerns, her feelings, and what she thinks because he sees himself above the narrator. John bringing up that he is a doctor and tells her to listen to him constantly feels as though he does not even have time for the narrator. He sees himself as better and says what is best for her without even caring what she has to

The Middle Tyger Community Center’s volunteer coordinator, Donna Dawkins, was very excited about my interest to volunteer with their This is My Child early education program. She was able to work me into the agency’s busy schedule and was also super understanding of my packed agenda and limited time. My first volunteer experience I spent in the one year old classroom. The teachers have a routine based schedule that is performed every day. Each student is to be dropped off, find their assign seat, eat breakfast, throw away their OWN trash, and then wait their turn for their health check. When their name is called, each of the children know what they are expected to do. He or she comes to the sink, brushes their teeth, and climbs up to the changing

I chose to sit silent in my balcony and observe the world around me. The very first sound I heard was the joyful chirping of the birds, which almost sounded like a smooth and connected melody of an orchestra, with birds taking turns and following a certain beat to their chirping. This was followed by the harsh mechanical noises of the vehicles that surround us, ranging from engine whine, raspy exhaust notes and hissing sounds of buses stopping by. What proved to be just a nuisance at first to the sounds of nature that I was expecting, turned out to be a nostalgic experience for me. Those sounds reminded me of my childhood, waiting downstairs for the bus to arrive and take me to school. Moreover, the vehicles whizzing past me with a diminuendo dynamic to their sound that faded away slowly acted as a reality check for me, reminding me that my days as a worriless child have long gone.

“We had to cryofreeze you. You were near-death when we found you, on the side of the road. I decided it would be for the best if we took you in.” He replied.

“You’re just saying that because you didn’t want to go in the first place.” Marabeth said, crossing her arms frustratedly.

Every interpersonal relationship isn't developed out of thin air. It takes time and a lot of

The growing up process is all about messing up and learning from your mistakes. I don’t think the amount of mistakes you’ve made determines your character but rather how you learn and grown from them. People tend to learn a whole lot during the teenage years and I certainly did.There were a few situations in particular that I definitely think I learned from.

Just as the elevator door started to close, several young girls wearing black leotards and sporting bright pink jackets jumped in. The bedazzled dance logo on the back of their jackets with the emblazed word Middletown Dance caught our attention. Before we could ask them a question, the elevator had reached the ground floor.

Growing up as a kid, I noticed a reasonable difference in my life where my mind grew up faster than my physical body. Maybe it was the strict rules that matured me or the high expectations instilled in me that formed my personal character. Remembering those lonely walks on my way to elementary school through the heart of a developing Desoto neighborhood and those short friendships formed on the rusted playground detailed the beginnings of my childhood. The constant dreams of becoming a successful man in the footsteps of my father clouded my head as I laid in the bunk bed of my hopes that shadowed the doubts of my developing mind. Through the ticks of time, it truthfully told the struggle of confidence and purpose as I searched for a safe haven

What I learned about my ability to work with young children is that they need a level of patience for them to work through the problem on their own. I also learned that for the child to be most engaged you have to make it interesting for them to learn, and that children tend to have a short attention span, especially when doing math over a long break. For Ezra we made a deal that if we would complete all the math questions to the best of his ability then we would spend some time playing outside. By interviewing Ezra I found that addition comes pretty easy to him and that math is one of his favorite subjects in school. I learned that at this age children prefer to turn simple subtraction questions into addition questions and round the numbers up to 10’s for easier mental math. If I was going to do this again I would ask

A long time ago back in Alton where I used to live there was going to be a big change for me. I was little didn't remember much, but i do remember the move van. I remember the men carrying my things rom the car to the house. Me and my father were standing out side, he got me villanelle ice cream and I was trying to make it last on that hot summer day. “Dad why did we leave our home?” I asked with ice cream running down my hand. H said “ We didn’t leave our home, home is where your family is.” I realized that day that we didn't leave our home, home is where you make it.

Growing up, I never really liked children. From the crying over no reason to the whiny voices of deceitful little monsters, the feeling of overwhelmness and depression seemed to rush into me instantaneously whenever I was near one. I dreaded helping out in the nursery during Relief Society Enrichments and yearned to be free when I was stuck babysitting hyper little ones who did not seem to know what an indoor voice was and was all too familiar with screaming. The thought of having kids, let alone being near them was a nightmare. As I saw my peers coo and fuss over a first grader (who seemed to me, knew just the kind of power he had) for hours, I wandered how anyone could be so fascinated by a simple child. It was not until my Junior year that I received more than just that answer.

It was December 27th 1997, as the mother looked into her handsome baby’s eyes. A tear ran down her face as she realizes this is the first and last time she sees the baby’s face, the last time she will be able to strokes her baby boys face, the last time she gets to see those eyes open. As she realizes that she won’t be able to watch him take his first steps and hear him say his first words, dress him for his first day of school, never see him grow up into a powerful young man just like his father.

A well-known nursery has bright colorful and designed walls, drawers are filled with little onesies that make up the planned attire for the new born, and have wooden cribs with toys hanging from above. But, mine had plain, pasty white walls, I wasn’t wearing onesies, and my heating cubical had wires above my head instead of musical toys. This was my nursery and I couldn’t have been happier, despite being in and out of a hospital for the first four years of my life.

William Glasser wrote, “What happened in the past that was painful has a great deal to do with what we are today.” When I was ten years old this single day seemed to recur itself for weeks or months at a time. While this memory still haunts me it shows how far I have come. It all started when my mentality was interrogated based on bullying and countless additional things. I found myself in my room everyday ‘til the blinding blue sky appeared until the last star waved goodbye. Surrounded by four white walls were four neatly placed nineties band posters accompanied by dim white LED lights. The room was filled with the scent of lavender that spewed out of a short white humidifier. Looking at the desk the laptop remained