Personal Narrative Essay

Walking into the auditorium for my first audition in high school, my mind raced with fears and anxieties. I auditioned with a group of friends for the production of In the Heights. Immediately, I realized the high school’s drama program differed greatly from the middle school’s. The directors expected the students to prepare their song ahead of the time. My group had little to no preparation; It was the definition of “winging it.” When returning home, I began brainstorming other after school activities I could join because of the poor performance my group and I put on. Shockingly, I made the show and every show since. That moment changed my life for the better. Freshman year I was a shy, insecure student afraid of socializing with the others. Today, in my senior year, I am no longer that person. I am a confident young

I notified dispatch that Officer Albert and I were out at the RSC. I parked our patrol car on the north side of the RSC and entered the north door. I heard Officer Smith on the radio say he was out with the subject near the Credit Union. I observed from across the RSC Officer J. Smith and Officer R. Faison standing next to a black male all the way by the Book Store. As I walked closer, I could see the black male with both of his hands up in the air and he was getting down on both of his knees. When I got to the Credit Union, I saw a set of crutches and a black bag laying on the floor. I told Officer Albert to stay here with these items as I continued to go behind the black male. Officer Faison kept trying to talk to the subject but he was clearly ignoring him. The subject who was later identified as

I got into my patrol vehicle and stopped the vehicle. Upon approach I observed a male subject laying in the rear cargo area of the SUV. I proceeded to the driver who was identified as Kirks, Mayan DOB: 12/28/1995. I asked Kirks to exit the vehicle and wait at the rear of my patrol vehicle. I opened the rear door of the vehicle and identified the male subject as Russell, Philip DOB: 020/21/1981. Russell appeared to be in pain and was holding his throat. I asked Russell if he was ok, Russell stated it was hard to breathe. I radioed for medics, who were staged nearby, to respond and render aid. I asked Russell to tell me what had happened. Russell stated he was drunk, being stupid and fell down the stairs. I asked Russell if Kirks and he

On July 23, 2017 at approximately 0645 hours, Ofc. Furr (#9345), and myself Ofc. Kelly (#9340) were on the scene of a fatal car accident located at Martin Luther King Jr Hwy and Glenarden Pkwy, in Glenarden Maryland 20706. While blocking the road and conducting traffic control, and while the accident reconstruction investigation was underway, an unidentified suspect arrived on scene in a vehicle after driving down the wrong side of the road. Suspect jumped out of the vehicle and began charging towards the car accident screaming “that’s my sister!.” The suspect was first confronted by Lt. Jackson (#9330), who blocked his way and advised him to stop and halt and that he could not go to the car crash. Suspect pushed Lt. Jackson arm down and ran

On 10/05/2016, I, Jeffrey Lee Albert, was working as a police officer for the Wichita State University Police Department, in Wichita, Sedgwick County, Kansas. At approximately 1614 hours I was dispatched to Grace Wilke to offer a ride for a student Eryn Noelle Miller to Comcair Crisis Center at 635 N Main, Wichita, KS 67203. I arrived at approximately 1627 hours at Grace Wilke and met with Amy Marie Barfield on the thrid floor. Barfield introduced me to Miller and I started my transport at approximately 1644 hours. We arrived at Comcair Crisis Center at approximately 1704 hours. I helped Miller get checked in and waited with her until staff were present. I left Comcair Crisis Center at approximately 1722 hours and returned to service at approximately

November 26th, 2004, and there is a sea of burnt orange everywhere at Darrell K

On Thursday March 10, 2016 at 1310 hours a call came from dispatch about a possible murder. I arrived at 210 Downey Way, at 1327 hours. Mr. Henry Winkler, who was the next door neighbor, was standing outside of the victim’s house. Officer Twumasi and I approach Mr. Winkler, who advised that he was the person who reported the call. He said, that while he was eating jello that he heard a loud boom coming from Ms. Nelson’s house about 15 minutes before he made the call. Mr. Winkler said he was scared and when he looked out of his window he saw Jim, the victim’s boyfriend leaving the victim’s house in a blue Ford Escort, 1999 model, four doors with Harley Davidson sticker on the back window. While gathering information from Mr. Winkler I learned

On 03/10/2016, MPD units responded to 301 53rd Street, S.E., for an ADW Knife where a complainant had been stabbed multiple times. Patrol units and detectives responded to the scene. When the writer arrived, the complainant was being treated by members of DCFD Medic 27. The complainant who was suffering from multiple stab wounds reported that he was at the school with witness #1 who is his daughter when witness #2 began to bully her. The complainant stated to witness #2 to leave witness #1 alone or he would get her brother to beat up witness #3. Witness #3 made a phone call and moments later, suspects #1 and #2 arrived on the scene and immediately began assaulting the complainant. Suspect #3 arrived moments later and began assaulting the complainant

It was late, but that's when the woman preferred doing her workouts. Yoga seemed the perfect way to end a day -- stretching, relaxing, ...... . She walked onto the large mat and stood in front of the mirrored wall. She removed her black jacket and let it fall to the floor next to her. She felt slightly self-conscious in only a loose tank top and bun-hugger shorts, but she knew she'd be alone. She began by doing a few simple stretches before moving into her yoga positions. She began with the Downward Facing Dog. She closed her eyes, feeling the stretch along the back of her legs. From this position, she moved her feet farther apart and brought her hands to grasp her ankles as she moved into the Wide-Legged Forward Bend. She let her head hang,

Where I want to start telling is the day I broke the family. It was christmas, the happiest time of the year for a teenager, receiving presents -or money- from anyone and everyone. We were at dinner when all D.B could talk about was his crumby book, it’s nice and all but just because he has money doesn’t mean he has to talk about ALL the goddamn time. Tonight I wanted to go to the hamburger joint for dinner tonight but of course D.B wanted to go to this fancy new restaurant so that’s where we ended up going. D.B always gets what he wants, ever since he was a child, he was the kind of kid that every parent and teacher loved, he was so intelligent and courteous and compassionate UGH! What a brown noser. I could not stand to listen to one more minute of my brother D.B’s goddamn successes and accomplishments, blah blah blah, so he wrote a book, a book about a stupid kid and his goldfish, for that he makes money? Any dummy could do that. Half

As I grew up in Northern Virginia in the middle class suburbs of Washington, DC, I suppose I had a typical childhood. I played on a girls’ volleyball team and joined the varsity cheerleading squad. I did other “girly” things like hair, nails, makeup, mall shopping and parties. Not so typical was the fact that I lived with my mother, my stepfather and six siblings. We have always been a close knit family who did several things together. Our regular quality time included movies and home entertainment with casual soul food dinners for friends and family. Museums, beaches, resorts, theme parks and other tourist attractions within a five hour driving radius were about the extent of our special group outings. At school,

I descended from the claustrophobic, poorly-lit stage, hands shaking, body following suit. I unequipped the instrument from around my neck, resting it on the stand beside me. I maneuvered through the sea of drunken 50-something regulars so that I might find my way to a seat. Another featured musician approached me to express his satisfaction with my performance. As per common courtesy, I extended my bloody, wet, blister-ridden paw to introduce myself properly and return the compliment. My family was visiting my extended family in Canada during New Year's, and I had never played for a crowd before. First blood being drawn, my fiendish addiction to live music faced its birth.

Insecurity dictated my life as a child and it was in my years becoming a young man where I had to longer be complacent with where I was. Many believed that my ability to sing was a gift from God and it was a talent I should not keep to myself, but because of my speech impediment, fear and anxiety surrounded my life.

Music is a really tricking thing, we often think about music as something that should be enjoyed or something to help us pass the time, case in point when I leave my earphones I feel like I have left a part of my soul at home and immediately assume I going to have a really bad day. It could be because when I have music with me helps me deal with my social anxiety or just because music is such instrumental part of how feel we day to day. Music often plays at role with memories we listen to certain songs and often think about certains moments in our lives.

Write a two (or more) page essay in which you will tell a personal narrative (story) in the first person. You are encouraged to share a memory or story that you would be comfortable sharing with myself and the entire class. Remember, your audience is your fellow students or peers. Although no topic is off-limits and no censorship is required, please do not share a story that would make you uncomfortable to share.