Personal Narrative: My Transition To Rancho Bernardo

Growing up in the Rio Grande Valley was an experience like no other. The RGV is full of Tex-Mex, laughs, and the most random things you can think of. Despite all its quirks it’s a beautiful place to live in, and it’s home to me.

I was born in Modesto ,CA on August 17, 2003 in Modesto hospital . I lived in Atwater ,CA most of my life ,but then I moved to Merced this year. Places that I have visited that feel like home is Watsonville and Santa Cruz. I have been in the same school for 8 years . Also, I have had a separate year in preschool. When I was in preschool I went to a school near Winton ,CA. During my magical 8 years I stayed in Bellevue since kindergarden through 8th grade.

Hello, reading over your discussion about growing up in Inglewood California brings to mind my African American co-worker who talks about living in Compton. She tells us often how growing up in that area you had to carry either a gun or a knife and be on guard whenever you go anywhere. She is a very dear friend of mine and she reminds me she is a changed person from the way she used to be. Her mother still lives in California but in a better neighborhood now but she is planning a trip to see her mother. My friend often tells me years ago she and I would have never gotten along because she had so much anger inside her. I am glad my friend did get out of that neighborhood alive and somehow found in her heart to not keep anger inside.

It was April of 1999. My family was at home. Children were running outside. The asphalt was burning. Cars rolled up to the entrance of the apartments and BANG. I grew up in Stockton, California. Surprisingly, as a minority, I wasn’t really a minority. There were, in fact, a large and diverse population of Asian-Americans. But, Stockton is not the ideal place to live. It was hot and dry, almost to the point of a drought. Stockton was also ranked as the one of the top 5 most dangerous cities in California. So, having a nice and safe family is kind of difficult. Eventually, my family decided to move to Crescent City, California when my dad retired. It was a world of difference. There were trees, plentiful water, and a nice cool temperature. This

Every summer I look forward to sitting on a large, warm cabana under the Texas sun. My feet buried in the sand as I welcome the lukewarm waves against my legs. Being a beach bum in South Padre Island, Texas is a great way to bring on the summer. This island isn’t short of attractions, from the beautiful ocean, to tasty restaurants, to fireworks over the ocean you will never get bored on your vacation! Last summer I was joined by a few of my closest friends. We made so many memories as we all went parasailing for the first time. Our relationship grew stronger as we were able to share a new experience together. Spending a few weeks in South Padre Island with family and close friends is a great way to make memories that will last a lifetime.

My mind will often wander to all the places I've lived in and all those I would love to travel to, or visit again. I think of the streets of Santa Fe, how fresh it would be compared to the over 100 degree temperature of were I am now, the hot dry heat of El Paso, Texas, a place I often come back to, the soil were my roots are permanently ingrained. El Paso has grown significantly in the past 10 years alone and is now the sixth most populous city in Texas (World Population Reviw). It's far from it's days when it was widely known as “El Chuco,” or “ChucoTown,” nicknames whose origins and meaning have long been debated, but no matter how much of the new generation is unfamiliar with these terms the history lives on through the streets and current

In 2011 on a very cold December night, my dad told me something that I will never forget. My siblings and I were all sitting in my fathers very out dated apartment, eating hamburger helper and watching a movie on his small 32 inch t.v.

It was mid-winter of 1848, I was doing my daily chores when my neighbor brought news that two days earlier, on January 24, James W. Marshall made a discovery of gold on his piece of land in California. At first, I didn’t think that this would affect me in any way, but then I realized I could start a new life in California filled with gold and fortune, away from my small farm in Missouri. I decided to pack up my things and start on my long journey to California, I packed enough food, water, and supplies to last me a few months. The next morning I was surprised to see that not many others from my town were seeking gold, I knew it was unsafe for me to travel alone, but I was sure I’d meet others along the way.

I grew in a very small Northern California town. I am an only child and I was mainly raised by my mom who worked full time as a waitress. These are only two sentences about me, however I think they paint a picture about the way I look at the world. When you think small town you think sheltered, and you would be right. When you think Northern California you think liberal, you would again be right. When you think only child of a single parent you think independent but close to her mom, you would once agin be correct. Perhaps you didn’t guess all those things from the first two sentences, but I am here to tell you that many people can. I tend to read like an open book. I’m easily guessable.

Oakland, California, the city that people consider as one of the top five most dangerous cities in the United States. Growing up in the city next to it and having family there, I developed strong bonds to Oakland. I have always seen Oakland in the light for being outrageously diverse and being resilient. My first thoughts of Oakland never consisted of them of the city being dangerous or a bad place to live in. I knew that Oakland is dangerous but I have never experienced anything that made my outlook change. Despite a handful of my family living there and have experienced muggings, robbery and dealing of drugs, I still could not take in how unsafe Oakland is. However, just one incident changed my view of this city, 18 years of my life Oakland

The short answer to my race is white, but the truth is I am Swedish, Irish, English, Swiss and, of course, American. Race especially plays a part in my physical appearance which became apparent when I moved to El Paso. My physical identity in El Paso feels much different than where I was born and raised; Tampa, Florida. In El Paso, people constantly ask where I am from or if I am in the military. The way I speak has even converged to match the way people speak here. I love my adopted city and my identity continues to evolve with my changing environment.

not want him to move to Pocatello. I didn’t want him to take away my stepmom, my brother Zander, and my sister Kyrie. I didn’t want him to take my family from me, I was really close with my stepmom we did things together all of the time and I was Zander and Kyrie’s nanny so I was really close to them they felt like my children, I am the one who started their potty training and worked hardest at it, I am the one who was able to get them into bed at night and I bought them things all the time, took them places and cooked meals and treats for them. I was with them most of the time and I was their favorite sibling, they told me all of the time. Then the next Sunday when I went to my dad’s house it was no longer a question, even though he knew how badly I wanted them to stay because I didn’t want to lose some of the few people that I was close too, he said that they were moving to Pocatello and he accepted the job in Idaho Falls.

One night in June of 2015 my friends Ben, Timmy, and my brother Austin and I were out riding my mom's vehicle. We decided to go out some back roads. We started in Roane county. On our journey we went out a lot of back roads also, some weird things occurred. We had been doing this for the past couple of months. This stuff scared me.

On July 4th, 1998 I was born in the small town of Endicott, New York. As many have said before, “I live in a small town that everyone claims to hate, yet, they never seem to leave.” Thankfully, I was one of the smart ones who left. When people ask where I am from, I tell them I’m from the city of Binghamton because almost nobody has ever heard of Endicott. Still, most have no idea where I am talking about.

When I entered more regular classes in my junior year of high school, particularly my expository writing class, I did not do well. I was accustomed to doing the bare minimum, putting very little effort in, as that was what was required to pass my special education classes. However, it soon became clear that my expository class would be challenging because my teacher expected great things from her students. Once I realized this, I threw myself into the work. I would go to class after school to ask questions about the content that was covered, as well as ask my parents for feedback on my papers. I passed the class with a C, rather than my usual A, but my writing skills increased exponentially. The C grade was obviously not what I had hoped for, but it meant more to me than my A’s. There were many times that I struggled with self-doubt, wondering if I had made a mistake in my request to