Personal Narrative: H. Laguardia High School High Schools

My mother’s irate words echoed deep in my heart for years as I tried to understand the simple words she would constantly repeat to me, “When will you ever change?” As a child, I was well known for being that foolish kid who would be put in the back of the class with his seat facing the wall. Eyes facing a blank white wall, fingernails tapping the desk, head down, and the smell of exasperation in the air. I was the type of boy who would sprint through the hallways cackling, furthermore resulting in repeatedly get scowled at by teachers for my obscene and inordinate behavior. In hindsight, I realized Freshman year after pulling the fire alarm that my behavior needed to have a parameter and come to a complete termination. Consequently, I spent the entire Summer in my room contemplating my life and my decisions.

Growing up on the west side of Chicago, it was always about finessing to get where you wanted to go in life. You either play basketball, rap, or scam, and I don’t fit any of the mentioned criteria. I have only one way that will allow me to live the successful life I dream of, and that’s my education. I worked my hardest during elementary school just so I could be able to attend one of the top high schools in Chicago and only then was I accepted into Whitney M. Young Magnet High School, one of the top three high schools in the state.

What followed were the applications, the score reports, and the dreaded essays. I was terrified to write a personal narrative to determine my future. All of the essay seminars, online forum speculation, and college essay “help” websites just contributed to the stress and left me more bewildered than

When I was a little girl, my grandma would always take me to her school with her and let me sit in on her classes throughout the day. I always begged her to let me go with her because I had loved getting to be there with her and getting to pretend that I too was a part of the class. Alvord Continuation High School was mainly composed of portable classrooms, the buildings were red and white spanish style buildings. The school my grandmother taught at was not a regular high school, this was a place where students over the age of sixteen were able to attend in order to finish school to obtain a high school diploma. The students she taught primarily looked a lot older than sixteen, they were adults trying to graduate to move on with their lives.

When I lived in North Carolina in 2012, I lived in a small school within a tight nit community. From day one I felt as though I didn’t belong, and the ones who made me feel most out of place were my teachers. My teachers told me to leave and go back to Maryland because if i stay I would fail. I couldn’t believe teachers would say that I was so shocked. My teachers rarely attempted to help me with my work as if I was unteachable because I didn’t learn as fast as everyone else.

I couldn’t keep living this way. In order to be happy again, I had to meet people, so I forced myself to join the lighting club at my school the next day, where I met some of my now closest friends. And I started to understand the structure of the academics at my new school, which helped my grades improve. I finally decided to eat lunch with my friend Anna and it ended up being a really enjoyable hour. For the first time since Florida, I felt like I belonged.

Prompt: Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

Throughout the seventeen years that I’ve been alive I have witnessed all the sacrifices my parents have gone through ensuring I have a better future than they did. I come from immigrant parents that weren’t fortunate enough to continue studying. I myself was brought into the country when I was two years old so I could build a different path than the one my parents had to take due to financial reasons. Short after, my sister was born my mom got remarkably ill with Diabetes. I would watch in terror as my mother would lay in bed barely able to move. I held her hand, wiped her forehead, with a cool wet towel, and longed she would get all better. Being the oldest in the

There were exactly 83 days that Brick Memorial High School gave its children to use for whatever they wanted. We were able to be young and dumb (to a degree) with no repercussions or scoldings from adult authorities. I would say that the majority of kids spent all 24 hours of their days doing what makes them happy; staying out late for parties and waking up early to see the sunrise are a couple of things that my friends and I did over this past summer and look forward to doing next as well.

Coming to Citrus Hill High school was a big transition for me within itself. I originally transferred from rancho verde to get away from the trouble and focus more on the things that were important to me, like my school work and baseball. I had heard from the people around that there was a good program there play baseball there. When I came I thought my year would be good new start, new school, new surroundings nothing could go wrong.. Shouldn’t have said that. When i got there my anger issues have gotten in the way and has held me back from achieving many of the goals i set for myself before the school year began. For example, starting off good in all my classes keeping my grades up and making the baseball team. I’ve had previous conversations

My eyes repeatedly peered to the stands which had a crowd of at least four hundred students eagerly waiting as we were warming up. Observing the crowd I noticed the left side of the field was full of students in orange Parkview High School shirts while to my right students were in purple Brookwood High School shirts. It was the Lacrosse Region Championships between Parkview, the school I played for, and, Brookwood High School. Both of our schools were ranked top ten for biggest rivalries, we knew it would be a fight to win the most significant game for us.

Vividly, I can remember walking through the high school doors for the first time as a freshman with shaky legs and a nervous heartbeat. The school was a jungle of wide, shiny hallways filled with lumbering seniors who I thought were going to knock my books down on Freshman Friday. However, time has passed, and now I find myself to be the tall and “scary” senior. As I ponder about the last four years I have spent at Little Falls Community High School, I can not help but realize how much I have changed for the better. As I have matured, I have gleaned that beauty does not come through makeup and clothing brands, but rather through processing a good heart. Also, I have changed my career and college plans after high school, and I know that I will

“Fight, fight, fight,” was the chant that so often filled the halls of West Monroe High School. The teachers heard it every time but always hid in the teacher's lounge for fear of being attacked. This was the legacy of WMH, fights, student riots, and terrified teachers.

"The college admissions process can create anxiety. In an attempt to make it less stressful, please tell us an interesting or amusing story about yourself that you have not already shared in your application."

I can’t speak for everyone, but I strongly believe that my attendance at MST will be the best and fulfilling four years of my life. As everyone, I also am looking for various journeys and adventures that MST has to offer and it would be an absolute honor to recite them to this fellow reader. Firstly, as a 9th grade student at MST I’m totally looking into creating and morphing new friendship since many of my friends ventured in perusing their own goals and callings in CSI, IB, or different high schools beyond Utica Community Schools. Secondly, ever since a young boy I fascinated myself and explored the interminable universe of engineering and mathematics, and knowing that MST includes all these arts of studies I figured that MST is like my