Personal Narrative On Jeffrey

The sun has risen and a young boy jumps out of bed with excitement, as he knows today he gets to go to his first professional baseball game. His father had bought him the tickets for his birthday months ago, and the boy had been counting down the days ever since. He put on his favorite ‘Cleveland Indians’ shirt, and ran downstairs to eat his yogurt and waffles for breakfast. As he ate, his mother saw him happily drawing Jacob’s Field, using his brown crayon to put the finishing touches on the base paths. The boy had a penchant attitude for baseball, as it was the first game his father ever taught him to play, and because of that, he would play whenever he could; with rocks and a stick, with his friends in the yard, and in his head when he

This time last year, Jeff Lynch was recovering from his second major re-construction in two years instead doing what he loves best – playing Rugby League.

It was that time of the year ,which was back to school, it was the day ,I got to meet my 8th grade teacher ,I was sweating and had butterflies in my stomach. It was coincidence to find my friend Sheyla at the parking lot. Sheyla said she has met her teacher ,but needed a few more supplies ,so she was just back from getting her last supplies. Sheyla’s family went with us to met my teacher ,and I was glad to see her because it was quite a while since I last saw her. Later, after we left Berkmar grounds,I went to Sheyla’s house and we hangout the rest of the day. It was the first day of school, usually I would be feeling nervous,but today I wasn't ,which was good because I didn't want have sweating hands and a racing heartbeat. I arrived at Berkamr and went straight to homeroom ,I found my seat and waited. My first day at school wasn't to bad because the only thing

I was born on March 24,1999 in Eastland Memorial Hospital. My mother, Shana Davis, and father, Wayne Davis, both graduated from Tarleton University in Stephenville Texas. I have one brother who's older than me by a year and four months his name is Justin Davis. I attended elementary school at Siebert Elementary School. I was one of the youngest in my class and had struggled cause I always felt smaller and was very hostile. But as I started to grow I found myself starting to become less hostile, as I found myself being welcomed as a friend. I began playing sports when I was in the third grade I was always fascinated with football it had been my way to get away from everyday life. When I got into middle school and high school I got

This week has been one of hardest weeks I have had to endure since the break of Jeffery and I. I have not been able to focus on absolutely anything. My children do not notice that I am going through this pain, at least I don’t think that they have noticed. I am in church praying and hoping that God will make a way for me soon, but as of right now, I am wearing an artificial smile on my face to hind the grief I am subdued to everyday.

*disclaimer: bare with me... the next 5 chapters are crap because i wrote them over a year ago...chapter 19 will be the start of some great shit*

I can relate to B.J. from Tears of a Tiger to my own life. I can relate my life to B.J more than any other character. The first reason I can relate myself to B.J. is because I do not drink. “ Yeah we was drinkin’-- all cept’ B.J.-- he don’t drink.” proves that B.J. does not drink just like me. Another reason is I am to short to play basketball just like B.J. An example from the text is “ Naw, B.J. don’t play on the team-- he’s too short, but the four of us hang together.” And the last reason I can relate to him is because I do not pray very often like B.J. I pray in bad emergencies. “ I know I don’t pray very often, and I know you haven’t seen me in church lately, but I feel like I need to pray or something.” I have friends that I hang out

I agree with you in your response to question three. The situation went on way too long. After the janitor was told not to come by the room and he then did it again, I would have called him in and issued a written reprimand for his personnel file.

On the morning of September 27, 1997, in Atlanta, Georgia I was born to Ralph and Vivian Baker. My full name is Philip Christopher Daniel Baker, which in my opinion is a very long name. I am the youngest of three children in my family. Matthew, 24, is the oldest child and Lauren, 23, is the middle child. My career aspirations are to become a successful financial manager for athletes. As a person I feel I am reserved and quiet and as a result not many people get to know me for who I really am. My life revolves around travelling as well as sports and managing finances.

I wait in the lobby of Edinboro Elementary for my younger brother, surrounded by vibrant colors, and drawings of what the children who attend there want to be when they grow up, coupled with adorably misspelled descriptions underneath. I walk over to glance at one, depicted is a squiggly-drawn superhero and underneath it reads“Wen i grow up i want to be A superhero.” It reminds me of how innocent and simple life is when you are young. Before I managed to read another poster I notice my brother running down the hall in his blue, Pokémon shirt, with a smile that spans from ear to ear, which could only mean that it is Friday. When we entered my car I ask him the usual, “How was your day? Did you have fun at school today? Did you learn anything

It was a sunny Monday morning before school, except we didn't smell the usual bacon or sausage. So we went down stairs and checked the clock. It was 12:30 P.M. Mom kept us home from school. We asked why, and she said “We are going somewhere that will change your lives.” My brother and I ran upstairs to get our stuff. Most people have suitcases that have their initials,but my brother and I are both A.C., so we have our names. Mine, Atticus Ceallach and his, Albion Ceallach. We both grabbed our suitcases, and packed whatever we could fit (which isn't a lot). As we were packing I saw a picture of me and my friend Brooklyn at summer camp. That was the next summer of my life. I thought about how much I would miss her, and a tear rolled down my cheek. I slipped the small

Of course I was the only teacher that was in the building at this time. “Who else would be here on a Friday afternoon?” I thought to myself. Upon entering the room there was an eerie sense that ran through my skin. It felt as though I was not alone in the room, so I toured the entire classroom looking for clues. When I approached my co-worker’s desk, I noticed a package lying beside it. Far from a normal package, this was some type of metal box with rounded edges and a circular bulge protruding from the center on all six sides.“Maybe this fell off of the desk, I guess that concludes what the noise come from.” Something seemed off to me about this particular package though, almost like it was out of place. I misjudged the weight of this box as I picked it up, as it was a rather large box. However, the object inside the box was as light as a feather. “Now, how do I plan to open this box,” I said aloud, knowing but still unsure that someone was not in the room alongside me. The box suddenly opened as I was feeling around on it, and the metal seemed to fold out into one flat sheet. On this sheet was a pencil, not an average pencil as a mind would imagine, but a pencil. It was white, with blue lines seemingly flowing through it changing patterns every so often. I noticed a sheet of paper under this pencil, and what was written on it was astonishing to me. “What seems to be unreal to you is clear to me. Your mind is frantic, As anyone’s mind should be. Go ahead, pick it up. It will lead you to generations far ahead of your present day. But you must figure out how it works, or the secret this item contains will be concealed for eternity.” Those words played in my mind over and over until finally I decided it was time to leave. Only now the metal sheet the pencil and note were on had disappeared. Allowing little time for thinking, I grabbed my things from my

In the late winter of 1999, Jeff and Lori Desrosiers found out that they would be adding yet another girl to their family. They had already been blessed with three beautiful daughters and, to Jeff’s horror, he would still be the only man in the house. Later in the year, on October 3rd, Lori delivered that fourth daughter, and that fourth daughter was me. I was born into this crazy Desrosiers family and got to be apart of all of their lives.

In my small town where I grew up, there was a man, Mr. Jacobs, who lived not too far down the street. Everyone knew him because he always made himself obvious. He was a rich man, not common for my town, and he made sure everyone knew how wealthy he was. He dressed in designer clothes found only in stores nearly one hundred miles away, drove the fastest, cleanest car within several neighboring towns, and lived in the largest, most well-kept house in the county. Mr. Jacobs seemed content with his life, for the most part.

When I was in first grade, there was a long delay for my father to pick me up from school. I was in the principal’s office, very annoyed that I was missing an activity with gummy bears and being able to consume them later. I was confused, why was I called into the office? Was I in trouble? Did I forget something? My mind was racing with a thousand thoughts per second, while I waited impatiently twiddling my thumbs on the black leather chair. When I heard the faint footsteps approach the front office door, I saw my father with a solemn look and went straight to the principal’s lair. His usual demeanor was missing and I sensed trouble amuck when he didn’t beam at me with his happy smile. My eyes were glued to the door, hoping that