Personal Narrative: Every Child Counts School

It was early July in Southern California: the sun was high, the air was warm, and the palm trees were swaying. Unfortunately, the bright sun could not light the darkness of the pit I had been slowly falling into during my tumultuous school year at my new charter school. On that day, when the other girls were tanning beachside, I was sitting deskside. I was trapped in a tiny, moldy, yellow-carpeted education office at the school I had transferred to the year prior. Like my fading hope, the dusty chandelier was barely hanging on from the ceiling. The room’s peculiarity added to my anxiety, as I felt failure lingering in the musty air. Though I had been sheltered by my parents’ optimism, I knew what I would soon hear: “I am so sorry sweetheart,

I was never the type of kid to standout in school especially not in the hallway. I was never too tall, never too short, not too scrawny, but the one thing I like to do is make people laugh. Yet even though that was very fun and all I still leave my legacy behind, which as weird, as this sounds, I was the one kid teachers never took seriously, but for the most part I never got that bad of a grade, in middle school(except when it came to 7th grade language arts class).

From my experience, surviving middle school takes a mixture of luck, naive fearlessness, and an aggressive number of colorful plastic binders. I started my first day of fifth grade a jumbled mess of nerves, anxious about making friends and doing well in class, and inexplicably dressed head-to-toe in red, white, and blue swag my mom got when the Summer Olympics were in Atlanta. I mean, my backpack matched my shoelaces, which matched my pants and my shirt. I might have even had a hat. A hat. A precisely matching hat. That I wore all day. Needless to say, I was not a particularly cool child. I studied hard, had a core group of equally nerdy friends, and constantly worried about whether I was doing the right thing or, perhaps more accurately, becoming the right thing. Was I not studying hard enough to get into college? Or maybe studying too hard, missing out on my youth? Would I grow into my teeth one day? Would my skin eventually stop looking like greasy peanut brittle?

I went to three different middle schools. The first middle school I went to was Baldwin Arts and Academics Magnet. This was probably the best middle school out of the three. I had the most and best friends. They were all different, and they loved and understood me. The two things I hated about Baldwin were the stairs and the miles our P.E. Coach would make us run. The teachers were sweet for the most part, and even though I didn't do well because I wasn't accustomed to magnet school, they helped me as much as they could. The transition from public school to magnet school proved too tough for me, so I had to go to another school.

Everyone have been raced in different places and in different forms. These factors all contribute to everything we do and our success. I was born in the United States but my first every early memory has come from Mexico. Life in Mexico is very different from life in here, factors from the schools and the community.

This past summer I had the opportunity to serve alongside MTRCamp as a reading coach. It was the most incredible and life-changing experience of my life. I have always had a heart for the city and for urban communities, but I never experienced a place like Memphis. The culture of this city is vastly different than any other city I have been to. The people of Memphis has an immense and infectious amount of pride for their community. It was a pleasure seeing my students develop a genuine love for learning as they were challenged to dig deeper into the books they were reading in my classroom. I deeply loved my students as they brought me joy each day. Although, it was not always easy working in an inner-city school – the payoff this summer was

Getting to school at 7:15 am, an hour early, allowed me to sit on my desk, in the principal’s office, and get some reading done, outline my day, and finish up on work.  School started at 8:15 am end ended at 3:44 pm. After school, from 4 pm to 7 pm, I either worked at school, attended BridgeUP, or partook in an internship. Then came the arduous chunk of my day.  I would work from 8 pm to 12 am in multiple grocery and deli stores for my family.  Even though my parents weren't in dire need for money, the money I made was belonged to them and was used for petty things.  I did this every day of the week, but worked from 6am to 10 pm on Sundays, the devil's day.  This lifestyle was mentally and physically excruciating, it was not the cat’s meow,

For the intern interview, I was fortunate in that there is an intern, Amanda, working at the school where I am employed as a classroom aide. It occurred to me that I would welcome any words of wisdom from someone who is much further along in the school counseling program process and yet not so far removed that the lessons are still accessible.

My elementary and middle school years were excellent. I got good grades, on time to class everyday, never talked back to the teachers. I was the perfect student.

On a Monday morning, I was awakened around six o'clock to get dressed. I put on my red button down shirt and my skinny navy blue uniform pants, put my hair into a ponytail and I was ready to go. I went into the kitchen to grab the box of Frosted Flakes and pour it and the milk into my bowl. I ate breakfast at home because school food is horrible and scanty. After I ate my breakfast, I rushed out the door to catch Big Yellow and was on my way to start my day. The bus pulled in front of the Tunica Middle School and everyone got off the bus and went to their first period. Before telling the rest of what happened on this day, I would like to point out a few problems I had. There were many problems that brought me to my decision at the end such as a young immature boy, his girlfriend, and his girl on the side.

S is for school I don't like school one bit but I have had some good things come from school. Like file trips and other thing but what I remember closely is when we played with fire. It was a cold December day we were two days from rapping up an assignment form science. The assignment was to so what would happen to 4 different substances they were placed in water,vinegar,fire and one other one I don't remember at this point in time. To day was the fire one you knew by the faces of some kids that they were going to do something bad. I was one of them but not in the why you think. I was going to try and burn the substance to a crisps. We charge though the room looking for are equipment and are partners. Once we got the try we

One day in the 4th grade after school we had to ride the bus back to the elementary, and that’s when it began. Alex. I was scared of him, being a 4th grader and him a 5th grader I was scared. 180 days that bus ride got longer and longer everyday. I feared for my life to talk. Time passed and we are now sophomores and juniors and I walk into LA 10 and there he is. 5’3, short guy with black hair, one headphone in, and gages. I froze. I was begging in my head I wouldn’t sit by him. Mr. Wright grumbled we would have assigned seats and to stand along the wall and it started. I was hot, shaking and almost sweating that I would not sit by him. Courtney, Molly, Devon, Zach everyone got eliminated one by one. Brooke, I hear, I thought I was okay then I heard Alex. My heart

In all of the years of schooling and of life I have been through enough to say that I adapt extremely well. When I started school I had it easy, with a functioning and supporting family and living in a decent neighborhood. My life was like this until 5th grade which is when my mom had what we called “Troubles” when actuality it was paranoid schizophrenia. DUring this time my teacher at the time was someone who would soon be fired for neglect of teaching and unfair grading. After I survived that year due to the schools tests grading that she couldn’t tamper with my mother’s illness was still what I had to come home too. At times she seemed normal and I wanted to get close again but when I tried this she started to get mad about the “figures” that we didn’t see.

It was late fall of 2008. I was ten years old and was in the fourth grade at an elementary school that was just down the street from where I lived. It was the one day that my mother allowed me to spend the night at my friend’s house on a school night. I was filled with excitement, and I can feel my pupils dieting just as if I saw Tasmanian tiger right in front of my face , but I couldn’t shake this feeling I had in my stomach as if I had a had a big knot that was filled with fear. Nevertheless I chose to ignore it.

Days, months, years gone by. I soon was in third grade when a miracle happened and altered my life forever. Till this day it affects me, it made who I am. To help you understand I was a very quiet, non-going, and lacked of self-confidence whatsoever. In elementary school, the teachers and directors put me as socially mute because when I am at school, I do not answer questions even though I know the answer, I would not ask for help, and I would also not ask to use the restroom. I basically was just there and sat there silent. My teachers and other adults thought I would not make it through the school year and would be held back because I made no progress. However, someone remodeled my future and still does. As usually you have your normal teacher,