Personal Narrative: Perfectionism In High School

Through my time growing up in Corona Queens as a kid I had come to realize something, I was beginning to get shorter as time progressed, the odd part was that I was the tallest in my class, standing at 5,10 in the 7th grade I was considered tall for a kid my age, in addition to only being 12 but regardless as I kept on coming home, I only felt as if I'm getting shorter. one day returning from the library and my reading session about the book Nature I was still in shock about what Henry David Thoreau has said about "sucking the marrow of life", and as I was attempting to think of how I can accomplish what he said, I fell and nearly broke my skull. it was then that I realized that what seemed like a footstep to walk into my home was a 10ft fall.

Going through high school the days were all the same, except for game days. There was just something different about the culture of the school. You could almost feel the excitement in the air. Every “Good luck tonight,” that was received made it feel like the whole school was rooting for me. This was my senior year and tonight was an especially big game. The game that night would decide if we made playoffs and if I could step on the court as a Hawk again.

I only had fifteen minutes left. It was then that I understood that this essay would not be perfect. In fact, it would most likely be disorganized and flawed, but, regardless of the outcome, I would have to write. With this realization, the weight of perfection lifted off my shoulders and it was strangely liberating to know that I would not be able to meet the impracticable standard I had set for myself. The unmarked page seemed less of an adversary and more of a companion as I began to write. At first, my words came slowly and laboriously. Then, they came all at once. One sentence led into another until sentences formed paragraphs and paragraphs formed an essay. When the proctor rose, considered us with practiced sympathy, and told us to put our pencils down, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I was simultaneously filled with relief and self-doubt. I had completed the essay, but, in the process, I had compromised an aspect of my identity that placed faultlessness above all else. In the past, I had seen that part of me as an asset, but on that day, it seemed unpleasantly clear that it was my greatest weakness. As I slowly unfurled my stiff fingers, I considered the now empty desk in front of me. Perhaps perfectionism is as much of a hurdle as it is a

My third grade teacher’s name was Ms. Brockbank. From the first day I met her, I knew we had a bond. She knew that after school there would be nobody at home besides my siblings and I, so she would invite us to her classroom for after school snacks. It was usually nothing more than apple

Mrs. Eardly was my homeroom teacher who also taught me Science and English. I remember in her class, we always did hands-on projects to help us completely understand the topics. She was amazing at explaining things multiple times in different ways in order to make sure everyone fully comprehended the information. She was also not too strict- we weren’t scared of her- but she didn’t take any crap either. She was very sweet, always helping those who needed the extra help, and she was just one of those teachers who was amazing at making sure every single student felt special and appreciated.

I am a perfectionist; always have been, always will be. Whether I want it to or not, that applies to every aspect of my life; including my writing. It is almost impossible for me to sit down and work on an essay or read a book without having flashbacks to countless lectures, posters, and reminders. The correctness of my writing and all of its components are very important to me. Specifically, I like to put in extra effort on my transitions, word choice, fluency, and overall likeability… Basically all of the things you see on classroom posters from kindergarten on. As I progress throughout my education I have come to realize that writing gets more complex as the years go on, but the same rules stay in place. No ‘run ons,’no using your introduction

Wilkerson. She was such a fun teacher. She was obsessed with Dr. Seuss and would always show us videos from School House Rock. I still remember the lyrics to those songs. I remember getting some kid in trouble for something I did, that year. When we were first introduced to subtracting with a bigger number on the bottom in the ones place, better barrow a bundle, the teacher gave us a worksheet without telling us anything about the topic just too see if we knew it. I was so excited because I thought I was going to be the smartest kid in the class and get all the problems on the worksheet right, but in the end I didn’t do it right at all and there was only one kid who did it right, and he’s sitting next to me as I’m typing

In high school, I would always have to fix my essay a good couple of times and there would be a lot of mistakes that I would have to fix. Which would make me frustrated because I would have to fix all of the paper. After working on some of the writing assignments that were assigned to us in class, I noticed

In 10th grade I had an English teacher by the name of Mrs. Hurley. The school year started with me disliking her, I thought she was extremely rude and was just cranky all the time. In her class is where I read my first Shakespeare play, Romeo and Juliet she made that unit extremely amusing. She had us split into families and we would have battles, they consisted of games and quizzes. I was Lord Capulet and my team won of course. After 10th grade she became my advisory teacher in 12th grade. She easily became one of my favorite teachers that constantly teased me on my obsession with Adele.

I worked diligently to understand the lessons I was learning but no amount of studying assisted in meeting the benchmarks that were required. I was behind in math and I struggled to get through it each day. I would stress about the concepts to the point of tears. This anxiety and lack of knowledge carried over into the beginning of middle school. I was hopeless at that point. With the help of my parents, I had attempted nearly everything just to keep up. Online studying, tutoring, extra homework, but it all seemed useless.

Looking upon all your other applicants, you will notice something different, I am not your typical high schooler. I started taking college courses at Yuba Community College the summer after my eighth grade year and have been attending ever since. During my freshman year at Marysville Charter Academy for the Arts, I was able to maintain a 4.0 GPA while also taking three college courses. My days would consist of 8 hours at my high school and 1-2 hours of college lectures right after that. My time at home only consisted of my regular needs, completing assignments and studying. Taking these college courses not only helped me get a head start in my undergraduate studies, but are also helping me in graduating early from high school. It is set

My brother and sister were in middle school, and they could not understand everything in their math class. So they came to my mother and said that it is hard for them to get a good grade because they did not know how to solve every problem they studied in the class. Since I was good at math, my mother asked me if I could teach them. I said yes because they are my siblings and I wanted them to get good grades. I tried my best to dedicate enough time and effort to teach my brother and sister because I was in high school and I had a lot of stuff to do too. I started teaching them math every weekend and when they had exams or quizzes. Furthermore, when I asked them if they understood what I explained, their answer would be yes and went to watch

In 2nd grade my teacher was Mrs. Terborg, I can remember her by how she had the naughty board and I was always on it because I wasn't always this perfect! She also got a microphone that she taped on her face because of our class, because we were always to loud. That was also the year that Mrs. Malek took in a big sparty to surprise Mrs. Terborg after she had fallen in the winter and was out of school for awhile. Math during her class was one of my best years of math because she explained everything very clearly so I got it fast and was good at it.

October 20, 2005. I step on the cold, hard, dirty pavement, and start walking. The travel to my new school is agonizing. Am I going to stand out, or am I going to meet a friend? I stop, gazing upwards to see the bricks that line my new high school, Creekview High. I’m starting a new year as a sophomore after my old town felt very differently towards a mixed race. I hope that this school will be better, but I wouldn’t put it past teenage girls. The bell loudly rings, as well as my ears, and I swiftly make my way inside to avoid the crowds.

Adam Osborne once said, “The most valuable thing you can make is a mistake¬¬ - you can’t learn anything from being perfect.” Writing has not always been one of my favorite things to do. I used to dread hearing, “We are going to be doing a writing assignment today.” I would always procrastinate and wait until the last minute to do the assignment and wonder why my grade was always lower than I had expected. From then on, I decided that I need to change how I felt about writing. I think I struggled the most with writing because I didn’t have a teacher to really teach me the right way until I got to seventh grade. There were several teachers that impacted my writing, but there were three that stuck out to me. The three teachers that have had the biggest impact on my writing were Mrs. Blankenship, Mrs. Dickerson, and Mrs. Atkins.