Personal Narrative: My Normal Cleveland Avenue Bus

It was a nice summer morning we I was all of a suden shoke like turbulence on a plane to wake up. It turns out I slept threw my alarm to wake up for the day. It was about 11:00 am and today we were heading to Florida and our flight takes off at 1:00 pm. You may think that we had time to make the airport in Milwaukee but, we had to drive all the way to Chicago, Illinois because there was no flight for Florida in Milwaukee. Luckily I had packed the day before with the rest of my family so all we had to do was wait for our aunt Lisa to take us to the aiport in Chicago. She showed up five minutes later with a mini van and there was about seven of us jammed in there. It was alright for me because in our family if you called “shot-gun” or “I

My family and I went to Chicago, for a family reunion. We took a plane there and you could see everything, windmills, houses ,roads, field, and clouds. The flight was only about one hour long from Omaha to Chicago. When we got to the airport in Chicago and there were people shoulder, a bunch of people in line to board planes. The only thought that went thought that came to my mind, was that when we come back to go home we will wait for hours to board the plane to take us back to Omaha.

When people ask me where I am from and I say Cleveland, they often react as if I had said “vanilla.” But if I say Believeland, they perk up and typically want to hear more.

Several months ago, I remember that I was driving to a friend house. I was with my best friend and we both did not know how to get to the house. I've always been bad with directions, so I easily get lost. We opted to use the GPS, but for our luck there was bad signal. It was night and the house was in the field. We had to go through many curves without knowing where we were going. And here's where something happened that was horrible for us. We came to a bridge that was very dark and had not lampposts, so we could not see anything. I remember we look at each other very frightened, and suddenly came to our minds the famous story of the woman dressed in white who is waiting for someone to pass to enter the car and be taken to a certain place.

I have written many essays since I was in middle school yet most of my writing was not that important besides for a grade. Yet there is one piece of writing I wrote that change my life and felt that it had an important impact to The City of Chicago. My teacher during that time wanted the class to enter in a citywide competition, which is called “Do The Write Thing”. It is a way for students to voice their opinions on how to stop the violence in Chicago. I wanted to help reduce the violence in Chicago since many youths are being killed in the streets every single day. In my paper, I mainly focused on three body paragraphs. The first one was why the violence in the city was increasing. The second one was some type of violence that I have witness in my own personal life. The final paragraph

I was 16 years old when i moved to Cleveland. I had moved from California, a place that everyone thinks of as a area of movie making, opportunities, rich people with fancy lamborghinis and ferraris, well it's nothing like that where i come from. Compton california, the place that you can see 14 year old gang members with guns, get shot just for wearing the wrong color, or just walking down the street like my mom. I never really meet my dad he got locked up when i was 3 on an assault charge so i had to move in with my grandparents in Cleveland.

Today my Hilarious Fiend Jasper and I will be leaving Dupree around 2:00. We will be traveling 2 hours 20 minutes and One Hundred Forty Five miles. To Rapid City South Dakota

Lotes en Cleveland Heights. Sucio, basura por todas partes. Pero imagine uno como un jardín. Eso era verdad. (Lots in Cleveland Heights. Dirty, trash everywhere. But imagine one as a garden. That was true.)

Driving up to Cooperstown through the gates, I was excited to see the variety of different license plates. Nevada, Texas, North and South Carolina, New York, Tennessee, Ohio, Virginia and many more filled up the parking lots. While driving through and getting directed to my barrack I saw tons and tons of kids. After settling in, my team and I walked around in awe listening to boys from other parts of the country talking. Most of the time I would laugh to myself because of the accents the southerners had. When it came to playing, the moment I stepped onto the field I felt like I was a professional. The grass so cleanly cut and the dirt so perfectly grated. The sun beating on my neck and the beautiful summer breeze made perfect baseball weather.

I knew I was not supposed to be doing what I was about to do. My momma and papa warned me a million times and I even got grounded once, maybe twice, for disobeying them, but this was the festival of colors we are talking about. When you are a big, little fish swimming in and out of the caves and rocks and through the underwater bubblers around the florescent seaweed, and flipping the sea slugs over and racing the turtles down by the Mississippi Street Bridge. Everyone that was important in the river colony spent every minute of their free time in the shallows under the bridge. Once you experience the bridge nowhere else is as fun or amusing. There were rebels and dare-devils that weaved in and out of little rock pools sticking out of the river’s

So far, my trip has been a fairly easy one. I left home on April 5, and I believe it's been 75 days. I didn't want to leave Cleveland right then since business was good but I have to avoid the winter months. Thankfully, we avoided a majority of the rain. I heard from men a few wagons ahead that they were soaked from the rain meaning that we barely missed it. I am a little worried about my health, though. A friend of mine on the wagon died from cholera, and I'm praying that I don't get

On September 08, 2015 at approximately 9:29 PM I, Deputy Bowring, was dispatched to shots fired and the subjects were in a black in color, Nissan pickup, heading north bound on Farm to Market 288 toward State Highway 154.

On the cold, dim late Thursday afternoon of December 1, 1955, a forty two year old seamstress named Rosa Parks, a trim, soft-spoken, bespectacled woman of tidily proper comportment, left after a day of working in the tailor shop of a downtown Montgomery department store and, wearily, boarded a city bus home. She took an aisle seat near the middle of the already crowded bus, beside three other black passengers, in the row right behind the front section reserved by law for whites – which rapidly filled until, at the third stop, a white man was left having to stand. The driver turned to demand of Mrs. parks and the three blacks beside her, “Alright you folks, I want those seats.” The other three black beside her, moved to stand in the back of

When I first rode the bus with Mr. Lach I did not know what to expect because I had never rode the bus. My mother had always drove my sisters and I to school but I no longer was at the elementary and needed a ride to school. The first day I stepped on that bus Mr. Lach greeted me to my surprise using my name. I then did not know where to sit so I sat with my friends Dylan Devier and Drew Meyers which was a mistake because they were the kids that caused trouble and hair loss to those who could not handle those kinds of kids and sat right behind Mr. Lach. From then on I matured from fifth grade through freshman year and developed what I would say a good trusting relationship.

When hearing that I was forced ride two city busses to school every morning my reaction was “WHAT?! Do they have any of the yellow school busses for students only?” “No” My mom said calmly, “you'll be fine.”