Personal Narrative: Growing Up, By Markus Anthony

Many underestimate the power that a singular event possesses and the extent at which it can alter one’s mindset. Often times a shift in the method of thinking and processing information, the act which drives our entire being, signifies a “coming of age”. Reaching a pivotal moment in time where not only do those around you recognize the transformation, but you also fully embrace the alteration. In layman's terms, transitioning out of childhood conjures thoughts and ideas that evolve from the foundation of one’s life. For me, the potent mixture of a short-lived period of blissful innocence and a pressurized home environment led to the culmination of a desire to succeed.

“The hardest part about growing up is letting go of what you were used to, and moving on with something you’re not.” Growing up can be fantastic. Growing up can also be scary. Many people do it on their own time. Others must do it quickly. Some have a nurturing family and a wonderful environment in which to do this. Others still are not as fortunate. The point is that everyone’s situation is different, unique. No matter how similar one situation may seem from another there are countless other things that affect how a child might grow up. One’s own life may seem perfect to those on the outside looking in when in reality, there could be a constant struggle that is known to few or even none. For myself, growing up was something that had to

She was in her room. Alone on a windy day the smoke she was creating was circulating all over the house. The smoke was transparent and smelled of Cannabis Sativa. She didn’t want to be bothered. All was quiet the only thing she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat. Then she began to feel weird. She felt something in her stomach. Was it remorse? Maybe it was happiness. Or maybe it was even the feeling of accomplishment. But right after the feeling, her mother comes barreling into the room.

The day was June 23, 2017 in Huntsville, Al. A friend of mine named Jalen Caudle threw one of the biggest parties of the year. He had a DJ, buffet, mini bar and more. This was a huge event for surroundings schools alike but so many things happened at this party. Which lead to it being one the greatest parties of the year.

I spoke with Sarah Morra regarding the home. She listened carefully and patiently to my inquiry and then informed me that the home was still available. Then, she mentioned that it was tenant occupied and once an offer was accepted, the tenants would have sixty days to vacate. In addition, she informed me that it was being sold "As-Is." Sarah provided brief information about the property, however, she did not do so in an upbeat and encouraging manner. Although Sarah was friendly, she made no effort to build rapport. In general, I found her professionalism to be

As the school years passed by, I kept doubting my religion because I felt different than the other people around me. Second grade to Fourth grade was a blur. I was affected by comments here and there, but nothing too exclusive. I started growing use to it. Until Fifth grade happened. I began wearing the hijab at the end of November of the school year. The first day I wore it, my teacher, Mrs. Casey, decided to ask me in an unprofessional matter, “Why have you decided to wear THAT on your head”. I could feel the eyes of everyone in class staring back at me, like daggers. My reply began with “Cause my cousin began wearing the scarf”. Yeah, I should have told you guys that that’s the reason behind me starting to wear the hijab. There was no reply

This passage reminds me about a pen pal that I used to write to every month in grade five. However, when I was in grade seven, I lost contact with her as I didn't receive any letters back from her for over a year. Even though she stopped replying me since grade seven, I still continue to check my mailbox every day hoping to receive a letter from her one day just like what Liesel did in this passage. Also, for the first few months, I would always be worried about her and wonder what has happened to her. As a result, I had many sleepless

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

Through Out elementary school I was bullied. I never really wanted to tell anybody, because I figured no one would believe me. They only saw what what on the outside of me which was a pretty, little, intelligent girl. Every time I got on the bus I was scared because, every day they would make fun of me. I used to think’’ Is it my hair, the way I dress, or are they just making fun of me.’’ Every night I told myself I was ugly and no one liked me. Then eventually I just stopped talking to most of my friends. I lost most of them. When I came home from school my step-dad used to ask me “How was your day?’’ I just said good and went upstairs and cried. I just felt like their was’nt enough room for me in this world. I used to even think my mom did’nt like me at one point. When ever I

I am a first generation child to have been born in my family, the first generation who is about to graduate high school and the first generation to go to a college and succeed in life.

When this year began (2015) my writing skills were in a scrabble to be at the level i knew they could achieve. TSi prep has brought me to a whole new level of writing and reading , by thrusting me into college literature and writing samples i feel more advanced in my academics.

The connections I have between the book and my life is I really connect to all the daughters in different ways. Especially when they are saying how their mothers are putting pressure on them. I definitely understand what the daughters are saying when they talk about pressure from their mothers, because me being younger in the family and the next one to graduate I have pressure from my mom. My mother always tries to put me in camps, sports, internships and anything for my future, like all the daughters the mothers put them in activities for their future.

Since elementary school I have exhibited a talent for writing. What started out as mere ten page stories about cats hunting mice or Greek Gods turning people into blob fish expanded into publishing a four hundred page long summer camp murder mystery as an eBook with my friend Henry in eighth grade. Over the years I have become more passionate about my writing, and over the years my grammar and writing style have grown tremendously. Looking back at the book I helped write in eighth grade I can’t help but cringe at the mistakes we missed and dull language we used. If I had written the eBook at the level I am now it would have been much longer, extremely detailed, and correct grammar wise. I realize the story could be leagues better, so I’m currently

Growing up with a mother who worked first shift, a father who worked third shift, and a brother nine months older than me, I had literally no one to teach me how to read. I would sit in the middle of the living room floor and hold a book upside down and pretend to read. I had no idea what was actually on the page but from the picture I was pretty spot on. I would read anything with pictures on it. My first reading encounter did not start off in an academic setting.

I was born on August 11th, 2003 on a beautiful morning in L.A Ontario. I am the only child of my parents. When I was six months old, my parents got divorced. My mom and I and my grandma moved to a different house.