Stereotypes: A Short Story

Through my time growing up in Corona Queens as a kid I had come to realize something, I was beginning to get shorter as time progressed, the odd part was that I was the tallest in my class, standing at 5,10 in the 7th grade I was considered tall for a kid my age, in addition to only being 12 but regardless as I kept on coming home, I only felt as if I'm getting shorter. one day returning from the library and my reading session about the book Nature I was still in shock about what Henry David Thoreau has said about "sucking the marrow of life", and as I was attempting to think of how I can accomplish what he said, I fell and nearly broke my skull. it was then that I realized that what seemed like a footstep to walk into my home was a 10ft fall.

Going through high school the days were all the same, except for game days. There was just something different about the culture of the school. You could almost feel the excitement in the air. Every “Good luck tonight,” that was received made it feel like the whole school was rooting for me. This was my senior year and tonight was an especially big game. The game that night would decide if we made playoffs and if I could step on the court as a Hawk again.

Ah, Junior High. Those awkward years between sixth and ninth grade when I had no earthly idea what to do with myself. I remember them well. I had to get used to being in a school that wasn’t an elementary school, the way older kids were acting, and how things were in my new school.

Every year since Seventh grade, I have had my picture taken for my Student ID and every year, it gets worse and worse. Every time I get my picture taken, it’s the same process over and over again. By now I know what will happen; first I take a seat in a rotating chair and place my hands on my lap, then I slightly tilt my head to the right and smile. My first ID was awful, I ended up looking like a mess. My hair resembled a roller coaster, out of order and broken. My second ID was even more unacceptable. I ended up blinking and had one eye half open. Let’s just say, I never looked at my yearbook picture ever again. My ninth grade ID was not bad at all. I had a nice tan from the summer, my hair was straight and sleek, and this time both of my eyes were open. I would probably say this was the best out of all. Unlike my ninth grade student ID, both of my

I was especially bored. I knew it would happen again. Addison was competing in a Glamour Girl pageant, but I had to go. I knew she would win and I was proud of her, but I had to practice the clarinet in my school band. Suddenly the announcer calls out my identical sister, Addison Hand, onstage. She had won $500 plus a 6” tall trophy. Addison and I are exact opposites except for our faces. She is an extrovert and popular and I am an introvert and nerdy. She came off stage acting so surprised that she won. “Great job Addi!” I said running up to her. She ran right past me into the arms of her boyfriend, Brady Anderson. Brady is a cute high school stereotype boy, plays football, gets B’s and has the cutest girls in school being his girlfriends.

The stereotype being displayed in this picture is that Asians spend all of their time studying and as a result are successful in school and life. I first encountered this stereotype in elementary school when a girl came up to me on the playground and asked if I could help her with her math homework because she, “knew I was good at it.” At the time, I was confused because I had no idea how she knew I was good at math. Then, as I became more aware of the stereotype that followed me due to my race, I noticed how it influenced others’ interactions with me.

When we were innocent, and young, the world was our chew toy, and we thought, as we licked our lemon lollies, and played hopscotch and jumped rope, that we could handle anything, because we were oblivious of the lies, that hung like thick sheets of smoke, a veil over the truth, that we call our world. And as we sat in our dining rooms, under crystal chandeliers, with our turkeys and blueberry pies, we didn’t know that, half a world away, lay a starving child, homeless, motherless, and lifeless, and couldn’t afford a single blueberry, much less the whole pie.

I personally don’t feel that I’m prejudice towards a certain race. However, there are some opinions that I hold towards certain ethnic groups and things that I dislike about them. I couldn’t think of one specific ethnic group so I thought of three.

I was especially bored. I knew it would happen yet, again. Addison was competing in a Glamour Girl pageant and I had to go. I knew she would win and yes, I was proud of her, but I had to practice the clarinet in My school band. Suddenly the announcer calls out my identical sister, Addison Hand onstage. She had won $500 plus a 6” tall trophy. Where will that go in her room? I wondered. Addison and I are polar opposites except for our faces, she is an extrovert, popular and I am an introvert and a bit nerdy. She came off stage acting so surprised like she didn’t know it was coming but, I played dumb.

Growing up I learned about financial trouble by my parents telling me that Santa’s workshop is under construction, so he’s limited on supplies. I got told that at a young age and at the time I didn’t understand. Once I got older and started following financial situations and saving money, I realized what they meant. Looking back at it now, it isn’t a big deal because I understand what happened. At the time I was upset because I knew I wasn’t going to get everything on my list.

I was always told that things would change in highschool. You would meet new people, find new friends, and even discover a new class that amazes you. No one prepared me for what was going to happen Sophomore year though; no one saw it coming.

Following along with my nocturnal routine, I scroll past digital photos people feel important enough to put on display for the rest of us. Strategically placed untouched meals, someone’s face, professional photo of a dog, photo of a physical photo of what appears to be an 80s-teenage bedroom, promotion for the new Shins album I have already preordered, professional photo of a dog. I return to the photo of the 80's teen. The caption reads “OK but look @ my mom’s 1980's bedroom #tbt.” Although I find this use of millennial language to be a bit distasteful, the tenderness behind a daughter presenting her access to her mother’s adolescence strikes me. Introspection comes at the oddest times. What would I, in fifteen years, have to show my children?

I lived in Sterling, Illinois, in a decent sized house outside city limits. I never actually attended middle school, as I was home-schooled for sixth, seventh, and eighth grades. During home-school, I got to spend all of my day dealing with my siblings (which is worse than it sounds). If it wasn't my siblings, it was my dad, who I don't really talk to as is. Nothing is the matter between us, I just don't talk much. Most of my time not in school or dealing with my family was spent in video games or exploring a nearby forest. There wasn't much between those two, as I only had two friends I talked to. I worried for the longest time that I would go my middle school AND high school years with only those two friends. I wasn't one that could be described

The past 720 days of high school and 2,340 days of school all together seems like a lot but boy has time flown. And here we are gathered hoping that we didn’t screw up again and can actually graduate. Some of us will graduate today, next week, next month even but i’m proud that I get to graduate with this class, the class of 2017. I have known some of you since maddux, most at nagel but we really came together once highschool started. Tate Sheppard and I became best friends after I punched her in the face for cutting in line in the fifth grade, I don’t regret that decision. Natalie Gould and I became friends in seventh grade from our guitar class and five years down the road she is still my best friend. No matter what scenario I run into, I can always count on this class to be there.

I wouldn't say I had a reputation in high school; I was never apart of any clubs or sports, all I did was show up, do the work, and go home. I never even attended a football game until my senior year. I, unlike most people, looked at school as a utensil to advance my education, not a social playground. I was really quiet, especially in my earlier years, and only had a handful of friends; I was practically invisible, even one of my teachers that I had for nine months thought my name was Sarah. In my senior year I came out of my shell slightly when I realized it was my last year; I figured that I should probably attend some events while I still could. I went to every football game and I joined Club Diversity with my friend Rennie. Even though