Personal Narrative: Gender Differences

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

2014 Fall Semester in the begining was going pretty good i was excited to began school , adapting to the new college life, and interacting with friends and new people. I was attending all my classes on time , studying , and completing the required assigments that needed to be done. I also was working a full-time at Gensis Logistics it wasnt easy trying to manage my schedule , but i tried to make it work the best i could. MTE 1 , 3 , and SDV was a breeze to me I was completing my assigments , studying , and understanding the information that was given to me. Now on the otherhand ENG wasn't hard for me i just didnt understand the content that was teached by the teacher. English was always the strongest subject for me so i couldnt understand why it was such a problem in college , maybe it was the teacher and her teaching methods. I never understood any information that was given it seemed to me like our class was always off topic one class period we would talk english, and then another class period we would talk about something else besides english. Then she assigned papers and assigments that was unfamilar to me it seem like everytime she assigned the class papers

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

The social norm I broke is making too much eye contact, or staring excessively, at my teachers. While sitting in class, I stared at my teachers more than I stared at my paper or looked around the classroom. It is usually normal for students to stare down at their desks and not look at the teacher a lot.

I grew up as one of the hardest things to commit to, black and alternative. My meaning of alternative is being interested in goth fashion and heavy metal music. From what I was told, being black is listening to hip-hop and dressing like everyone else around them or what is the social norm. Clearly, my definition of alterative is contrasting on what it means to be “black.” I say it's hard to commit because coming from a closed black family, I felt pressed to let go of what I felt about myself just to make them happy. Questions like, ‘’Why are you trying so hard to be different?’’ or ‘’Who told you that was okay?’’ Still replay in my head whenever I decide to wear something that I would feel most comfortable in. Not long ago, I got into an arguement

They called me an apple. Since I was supposedly red on the outside, but white on the inside, I was automatically a walking bullseye. Being one of the many oppressed Aboriginals, I understand their need to hurt someone else in an effort to release some of their internal pain. I understand why so many give up or turn into raging alcoholics in an effort to numb their pain. Coming from a reservation, my greatest challenge was proving to everyone that all the stereotypes about my people were fallacious. However, the need for a government and an education system that won’t keep on failing us repeatedly is imperative. The only way that I can make my voice heard is to break these stereotypes and to reach a higher education; hence my application for

I quickly swallowed my homemade authentic Indian food leftovers and gulped down my chocolate milk. Looking down at my watch that read 11:28am, I knew that I only had two minutes until my most favorite part of the day: recess. This particular day in 5th grade, I had run a lap around the playground before getting the rest of recess to myself. As I started walking for my warmup, another student ran up and said, “My parents said that your people caused 9/11.” Completely caught off guard, I held back the tears in my eyes and tried to shake off his comment. I had never encountered something like this.

“You’re pretty for someone who has dark skin.” I stood there in the middle of my 10th grade English class, stunned. Trying to fathom whether or not to accept it or acknowledge it was a backhanded compliment. I sat there thinking to myself did this other student who shares the same color skin as me, just feel the need to associate my beauty despite my color? This was just one of many times in my life I had encountered phrases like that, but that day in my English class, I realized society had created a social norm that just wasn't going to sit right with me.

Throughout the conversation, Susan did not inform me that the home was still in First Look and not open to investors at this time. Susan did not highlight any features of the home, nor did she talk about the neighborhood or the surrounding area. When asked, Susan paused to reference the property file and stated, "In looking at the pictures it appears that it needs interior paint, carpet, appliances, and a few windows, which the previous seller must have taken." She stated, "I don't know why they have to remove things from the homes." I asked, "Do you have offers?" She paused to check the property file and answered, "No offers." I asked, "Is the property behind the home farmland?" She paused to reference the property file and replied, "It appears

I was six, I knew that we couldn’t stay one place forever. That concept was foreign. Every few years my family and I were stationed to a new place, this time 45 minutes away. Of course, being the stubborn and impatient six year old I was, that seemed a light year away. I have never had friends that lasted over 3 years. Either they left, or I moved. This time, I left first. My friends were my world. I was happy. They were devastated to get the news of my departure. Tears were mixed with the “goodbyes”, and the occasional “I’ll never forget you”.

Is usual to hear people associating common behaviors from a cultural background to how they expect an individual to act and react to certain situations. So I was really curious to see the results of the self-assessment comparing me to my cultural profile. I was born in Venezuela, and I lived there for most of my life, for that reason I wasn’t really surprised when my answers were almost the same to my cultural norm. The dimensions that I’m most similar to are in leading, trusting, disagreeing, evaluating, and persuading. In “leading”, the scale measures between egalitarian and hierarchical, and my cultural norm and individual answer is more hierarchical than egalitarian. Also, in “trusting” Venezuelans (including me) are definitely a relationship based society, where trust is built by affective connection, for example is very common that most of the business partnerships in Venezuela are made between friends and family rather than with individuals with

Over the past week, I went into an elevator and stood with my back to the doors as I face everybody. I had the perfect opportunity to test this out when my cousin was in the hospital having her baby. Before completing this task, I felt nervous and shy to violate this social norm. During this task, I felt very uncomfortable and embarrassed, like I was doing something wrong. But after, I thought it was so funny that I was so nervous. I got many different reactions while completing this task. I received many blank stares, confused looks, and many looked like they were going to burst out into laughter. And some people didn’t even make eye contact with me and to say the least, it was an awkward situation. After this experiment was over, I explained

What I think it means to be someone of my gender is always doing what is expected of a girl. Always being polite and caring when necessary, but also standing up for yourself and never cowering down. As for what I think it means to be someone my age, which is 20 years old, I think it means finally starting your life. Obviously your life has already been started but once you're 18 you start to get a little bit more of a taste of what you're going to have to deal with as an adult and I think that getting up to 20 years takes it even further. By 20 years old you've most likely started college, working a new job, or maybe even both. Attending an ethnically and racially diverse school, being white or any other race or ethnicity was never a problem.

I recently realized with the feminist movement of the last few years, the metrosexual movement a few years before, and maybe too many Will & Grace reruns the years before that – Most guys have forgotten how to be actual men, and quite honestly it’s embarrassing. We’ve gotten so worried about coming off sexist, offending someone or saying the wrong thing. It’s sickening! This Jimmy Fallon style – everyone wins a trophy – never hurt anyone’s feelings way of living just doesn’t cut the mustard kiddos! It’s time to Man the Fuck Up!