Personal Narrative: Look After Children

Since I was a kid, I had a ton of responsibilities, cleaning up after myself, doing chores, managing to not fight with my brother, although we fought all day everyday, but you know, it happens. One thing that I didn't know wasn't normal was parenting your parent. I go to school do all my class work and during recess and lunch I listened to all the other kids talk about going to the park after school and eating dinner together with their parents. When I got home from school, I had to do my homework and then take care of my mother. Bring her things she needed such as food, water, help her with many other simple everyday activities. Of course I wasn't the only one who was her “little helper” as she put it, my dad helped her and my older brother by two years,

I worked just as hard, yet my test results were notably underwhelming in comparison to my ‘top 10’ classmates. What was different about me, I thought every night before I fell asleep. Then I realized, I was alone in my cherishment of extracurricular activities. While my classmates were up late Friday nights studying, I was cheering on the sidelines, exerting myself to pep up the crowd via backflips. When others were reading ahead, I was helping to feed outlying communities. While the ‘top 10’ was still cramming, I was at a Wednesday worship program. I’m committed to giving my complete impetus to everything I take part in, and sometimes, your best isn’t enough for what you want and there is almost nothing you can do about it. This taught me that in order to be truly fulfilled, you need to accept failure as part of your life and learn to move on. Thinking about it, I would not be happier if I quit doing the things I love to study more so that I could be in the ‘top 10’. In fact, I would most definitely be more miserable. Learning to accept failure, I have decided to cultivate my energy into simply giving my all and to welcome whatever rank, or not, I receive with open

Little by little, children finish their meals and get ready for naptime. The children dump the remainder of their milk in the same sink where they wash their hands. Slowly children go lie down on their own. One of the TSS’s turns off the lights on that side of the room. Kayla puts on a rest time cd and goes to start cleaning up the kitchen. I ask what kind of music is playing but Kayla is not sure. Alyssa gets blankets for any children who need them. Kayla tells her the children only get their blanket if they are settled down. Seeing the children start to fall asleep I get ready to leave. Saying goodbye to Kayla and Alyssa, thanking them for their time.

I was fifteen years old when my mother invited me to help out with the local foster home. When I arrived at the foster home I began to cry in response to the young children that I saw. It was difficult for me to understand the children's emotions initially but throughout the day I learned the reason behind their joy. Most of the foster children were grateful for the little deeds that the volunteers performed for them because we showed that we cared about them. In all honesty many people take for granted the advantages they have for succeeding in life. The foster children that I've seen that day were limited because they did not have the physical and the emotional support of their families. I did not realized how blessed I was to have a loving

Like many people everyone wants to find their calling and figure out where they belong. My parents moved to the United States risking their lives on a boat from Haiti but soon separated while in america . My mom did a great job raising four kids on her own and I being the second child took part in raising my two younger siblings. In elementary school I struggled in many subjects but excelled in art, when I finally learned to read and went to middle school my grades were high enough to have honors reading and social study classes and even apa classes in highschool. I continued to excel in a lot of my classes, turns out I was smarter than I thought and all I need to do was learn to read and have people who took the time to teach me.

Maybe I was too little, or maybe I was too short, but either way I did not make the jump. In the second grade I was your average eight year old, who always wore her hair in ponytails, and enjoyed playing tag at recess. One day I saw the fifth graders on the monkey bars at recess doing something I had never seen before, they were jumping to the fourth bar. I waited untill Kids Inc. that day to try the jump, but it was no use I was acting like a scared baby.

I’m in the prison line minding my own business as a few girls punch me. I did nothing to them, but that day i was getting out of prison and the girls get jealous if the others get out. The police are sending me to a foster home. My seventh one and i’m hoping it’s the last. My head is throbbing and there is a cut on the upper part of my lip. Before I leave I ask where is my brother you said you promise would never split us apart. The social worker finds my brother and he is taken out of the home he is in, now he is with me I feel safe.

Despite playing the role of protector, there was no role that I enjoyed more than being able to help my siblings further their education, ensuring that their homework and mine was completed, accurate and ready for my mother’s review upon her return home from work. I was determined to transfer my passion for learning, and education in general, to my siblings and anyone in my household who would listen, which might have contributed to the fact that all but one of my siblings went on to attend and graduate from college. For me, getting an education wasn’t an option, it was the only option, a sentiment that I relentlessly stressed to my siblings, and my mother, who though a high school dropout at one point, went on to pursue and receive several college degrees later in life. At the age of 12, I took on my first job, which was essentially an entrepreneurial endeavor. My brothers and I spent the spring, summer and fall canvassing our neighborhood, seeking out residents who would allow us to mow their lawns or rake their leaves in exchange for a reasonable fee. While the earnings of that first job were meager, the intangible benefits and life lessons that I derived from it were tremendous. I learned a lot about earning and managing money, responsibility, and most significantly, what I did not want do with my life. The

I woke up on the couch, screaming with tears running down my face. I tried to stop yelling, but I couldn’t. If I didn’t stop yelling Sebastian will wake up and then Lin and Vanessa will wake up and be furious with me. Suddenly, I hear footsteps coming from Lin and Vanessa’s room. Oh no, I woke one of them up, I quickly covered my mouth. I must look crazy, a teenage girl sitting on a couch disgustingly sobbing with her hand gripping her hand over her mouth tightly. The person who came out the Lin and V’s room was finally in front and I recognized the person as Vanessa. She sat next to me and swiftly encompassed me into a comforting cuddle position.

Service is important to Confirmation because it serves others and also God. The Holy Spirit inspires and helps us serve others. Service is a way to give back. It is a way to be grateful for what we have and help those who have less than us. Through service we are doing God’s work by helping others. For seventh and eighth grade year, I did many different acts of service including; works of mercy, church service, community service, and liturgical experience.

Anais brought her daughter, Ana, to the Houston newborn photography studio today. These two had one of my favorite sessions between parent and child. They were so connected and playful. They were like best friends who love each other's company.

I have for months been in apprehension that David would volunteer. Yet, joining the Army will be a terrible trial to me. He joined the Washington County Company commanded by Capt.Willet. They are now at Camp Cummings, the Fair ground. David sold his Pistol, got $25 for it, paid some of his little debts and we are preparing shirts with crochet work. He is very serious and deliberate about it, and the poor boy, he will be more so as the hardships thicken upon him. He was anxious to be called in.

I woke up in an unfamiliar place. I felt warm and safe, but I wasn’t sure why. Then it came to me. I was home. Not just one of the foster homes I had been in before, but a real home. A forever home. A place where I had a mother and a father, and plenty of food and clothes for me. I looked over to where my sister was sleeping peacefully on the bed next to me, and joy made my whole body feel warm.

The patient I completed my family health assessment on is a 34 years-old African American (black) female that is Gravida 6 Para 6. Her primary language spoken is English. She has a history of five vaginal deliveries and one cesarean section. This delivery was a vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC) with spontaneous rupture of membranes while at home. Initial progression of labor was slow until stimulation of nipples via breast pump and low, slow dosing of Pitocin.

I grew up loving children of all ages and wanting to be a caregiver. I was the baby sitter and nanny to the neighborhood and my church ward. When I was in High School’s it was no surprise to anyone that I chose to work in the school’s child care center. I continued working with children at several child care centers until I went to school.