Personal Narrative- Improved Writing Essay

A cool breeze chills me to the bone as I step out of the car, fall must around the corner. The earlier feelings of anxiety and fear start to take control as I start my trek to class. The air is becoming harder to breathe in as though I am nearing the end of a marathon I have been running. My first class was at the First Nations University. I could remember watching how what had to be hundreds of students march the path each break while we built the new residence. As I was getting closer it became apparent at how enormous the institute actually was. With an

So, I got lost in the middle of Silverwood in Idaho with my little cousin…

The morning was foggy and I could see the front of my school through my window. It was a nice sight to see. I walked into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal and there she was with her head down on the table. I could tell that she arrived a couple of hours ago because the tears hadn’t dried from her cheeks yet. I got myself ready gave her a kiss on her forehead and headed off to school. I had walked into class eager to see what my teacher Mrs. Padron had in store for today. Every single day there was something new to learn and there’s something about that infinite nature of learning that really appealed to me as a child. I cherished those 7 hours I spent in class the most I could and I dreaded the mere thought of having to go home where I would have to face the

Writing for me began as a kindergartener. My teacher made me write my name over and over again until I could write it without making any mistakes. In elementary school all my teachers taught me to put words I had learned together to form sentences. I was eventually taught to avoid fragments, and

Furthermore to expand on the classes I had taken before I had never learned how to write without just actually doing work and feeling enthusiastic about it. Most of the time we would learn about something or topic would be given. There would be

Shoot! I thought. I didn’t want to wake up Darry, he looked so peaceful. More peaceful than I have seen him in years. He only worked one job now so he could spend more time with Sodapop and I. The judge said that he would take care of some of our expenses so Darry could be home to help me get better. It really worked. My grades in school improved as well as my attitude. I worked really hard on my English grade, I wanted to make my teacher proud. I wrote a story for extra credit about this past year and it began like this: When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home…“It was really scary.” I started. “One of those boys was pushing Johnny’s head into the freezing cold

The five-minute warning bell goes off. I rush to my first class of my junior year, eager to see my classmates, who I was going to spend the rest of the 9 months with. I find myself stumbling into a classroom plastered with decorations of Denzel Washington with a Dr. Seuss book in his hand, a t and college flags galore. My AP English 11 class suddenly seemed so appealing to me. As a beautiful, curly haired short lady stood in front of me and said “Welcome to AP English 11,” I knew that I had found a treasure so much greater than just a pretty classroom. Little did I know, that short lady was going to inspire me throughout my challenge filled second-to-last year of high school.

The first teacher that I fully understood what writing meant was freshmen year in high school. My teacher was Mr. Landuyt and he explained to us that writing is for our own personal benefit. At that moment I realized that writing is not just for a grade to keep our parents happy. The most successful thing I have ever written was a short story that I wrote when I was a senior in

I had minimal writing experience, in first grade we each wrote a “book” and submitted them to a program called

The problem was, I had no idea when I would actually go to bed. The problem with trying to be a 4.0+ student is it is really hard! The last thing I did was turn in my last assignment,”7.03 Policymaking Process.” I felt so much happiness at that moment, I had just turned in the last assignment; I was filled with satisfaction, I finally pressed the mouse of my computer so obnoxiously that it woke up my cat sitting beside me, I even woke myself up a bit. The button flashed like a strobe light reading, “Submitted” in large purple letters.

I stared at the piece of paper on the table in front of me. I had sat at the same desk, in the same chair for over an hour now, staring at the same piece of paper. My mind had gone blank with a serious case of writer's block. I looked at the clock on the plain, beige colored wall and sighed. An hour had passed and I continued to look at that dusty, old clock on the wall. Seconds turned into minutes, which eventually turned into an hour. My long, wavy brown hair brushed over the paper that decided if I would become a lawyer or not. I had endured almost seven years of school all to stare at this paper for an hour and have nothing. My vision was blurry, but I ignored it and tried to push through my pounding headache so that I could start my LSAT

This week was starting off great. I barely had any homework at all. This changed on Wednesday when I walked into english and sat down. I love english class, so I didn’t really mind my teacher, Ms. Barber, giving us a project to do. We had recently finished Romeo and Juliet, and have spent a day talking about it. When the sheet came around with our options on what we could do, I read through it. I found what I wanted to do, a complete scene rewrite however we wanted. When I went home that day, I had no clue how I wanted to rewrite the scene’s dialogue. I sat at home, just trying to figure out what I would want to do for the rewrite. My thoughts were spinning around in my head. I shot down my ideas faster than I was making new ones.

I unplugged and turned it off in a hurry. I goggled at the school--it looked like a castle from a story book! I was grinning like a fool, as Prefect so kindly told me (and I retorted saying that he’s got a stick up his behind--he didn’t seem to get it, and it made me go “Ha Ha!” internally, even if he did, I wasn’t paying much attention, as my focus was on the school). I began to bounce excitedly in my seat. “This is going to be awesome!” I whispered under my breath.

Suddenly, I didn’t see the courteous teacher who had so warmly welcomed me into her room, but instead, felt her searing glare storming the walls of the fortress that I had so carefully built for this exact moment like it was merely a sandcastle. I wanted to surrender. My heart rate increased. I could feel the crimson hue sweltering on my face, a shivering sweat overcoming me in waves, I did my best to hide it. All of my previous thoughts were halted as I hopelessly scoured my brain for a fun fact to share, I have a sister, I rescued a dog, I ride horses, I used that last hour. More rummaging.

SC completed RA HV with Pa on1/12/2016. By Pa walking to the door to let SC in the apartment she was severely SOB and she was wearing her oxygen. SC asked Pa if this was common and she reported that it’s always like that she just have to pace herself. Pa reports that she uses to have bloody noses and sore throat all the time but now her humidifier has help her al in controlling that. Pa's as a history of COPD, asthma, OA, RA, GERD all of which affect her functioning and ability to adequate care for herself. At one of Pa’s routine medical visit it was discover that a lump she has had for many years is now growing and her doctor is very concerned Pa a battery of test down in November, 2015 and was schedule to get the result two months later 1/10/2016 (but 1/10/2016 saw on a Sunday and that doctors office was closed Pa was sent a letter from the doctor’s office asking