Personal Narrative: Reflections on 7th grade English Class Essay

So, I got lost in the middle of Silverwood in Idaho with my little cousin…

Back in middle school around the 6th grade I was a bitter person. Having been hurt from past and present situations I was not keen on forming relationships with other people. I always kept to myself, never causing any trouble and sure to keep far from it by turning the other cheek. Then one day the student occupying the seat beside me mistakenly took my school pack believing it to be his own. I had only become aware of the mistake after he had begun leaving out the classroom’s door. Before he was able to reach the schools exit i managed to catch up to him; informing him of the mistake he made. With that brief encounter a small friendship began. Everyday afterwards the same student would spark a conversation with me before classes began. He

I was ten, the most terrifying event I had been through was riding the little dragon roller coaster at the fair, but that night changed it all. The fear that started in my head spread like wildfire to the rest of my body from the tips of my fingers to the bottoms of my toes. My heart was racing so fast that it could have beat Usain Bolt in a 100m dash. Stop, drop and roll, three steps that should have come naturally, but instead I froze, looked down at my yellow and black checkered flannel in complete terror, fearing for my life.

I had always assumed that my legs were strong and that I had decent muscle control, however, this thought was proven wrong at the beginning of my junior year in high school due to a detrimental injury. It was the first game of fall league for basketball, and within the first five minutes I had succumbed to an injury. Tearing my ACL and Meniscus has taught me to continue improving on my strength, not let this one injury keep me down, and to keep a positive mindset.

Have you ever felt so nervous in your life that your mind ached with anxiety. It was the final race in my seventh grade track season, but little did I know my anxiety became the least of my worries.

When I read a book, I step into a world careening with creative stories, elaborate settings, and earnest characters that worm their way through our hearts of thousands. Other times, I open a book to find myself in someone else’s words, or challenge my limits. There's no denying the power and beauty of literature, but understanding, analyzing, and creating so much power is no easy task. It’s why I'm so eager to join this class. I want to learn further with the best class possible, Advanced Sophomore English. I well understand the difficulty and effort that goes into the challenges of an advanced curriculum/placement, especially the motivation and risks you need as well. Throughout my life, I’ve had firsthand experience/learned many essential skills. In 6th grade, I lead a team of friends to win 1st place in Device Performance in the 2013 Tech Challenge hosted in San Jose Tech Museum where over 600 teams pitted against each other from across the Bay Area. That following year, I was the only selected student to attend Tech Trek, a camp hosted in many universities like Stanford and Sonoma State university dedicated to promoting the math and science field to young students. In 8th grade, I was awarded an English Department Award by my English teacher for my outstanding performance in leadership, writing, reading, discussion, presenting, and more. And most recently, I was not only accepted into our

HAROLD, is a flight instructor. He is in his mid fifties, and is too lackadaisical to be giving lessons. His hair is a frazzled mess. He looks as though he just rolled out of bed. He leans back in his seat wearing sunglasses, having not a care in the world.

The brain is 3.3 pounds, has 86 billion nerve cells, and makes up 2% of 100% of people. Though this organ belongs to all people, it is still unique to everyone. The decision made, emotions felt, and life that was lived can be held in the palms of a person's hand.

I am Matt Valerio, a 9th grader at The Hill School in Pottstown, PA. I am 14 years old and love to play hockey, lacrosse, and golf. I would like to be a freelance writer for you because I love to write and would enjoy writing for ABC Journal. I love to write in my free time. I intend to write about sports; I play Hockey, Lacrosse, and golf. However, I do not see many articles about lacrosse, so I would like to get the people of Townville, PA excited about lacrosse. I would mostly write about nonfiction due to the sports I like to write about. My strengths as a writer would probably include most of my vocabulary and the fact that I am passionate about my topics I write about. I would include my Room for Debate essay because it shows

I can feel the tension in my muscles as the crowd readies itself for the main event.I prepared myself for the final match through boxing,dodging swings,running laps, inhaling when I hold back a punch and exhaling when I release the force of my punch.Without a doubt Gabriel has trained just as hard as I have and I still cannot beat him,until now.I felt more confident than ever as I walked out into the waiting eyes of the audience.I have climbed over many obstacles to get to the grand finale and I plan on seeing this fight to the end.

The score was 40-30, last point of the tie-breaker set. This was everything I had been training so hard for, everything I looked forward to, everything that would make me happy. As I stood across the court holding my racket out waiting for my opponent to serve the ball, my legs struggled to maintain themselves straight. The racket grip felt like it would slip from my hands as the sweat dripped down my arms and hands.

When I was younger I was a killer. My mother would walk the aisles of the grocery store searching for our prey. She would single out the biggest in the pack, feel for the most tender, and strike. She’d fight with the other hunters for ownership of the animal, throw them in her cart, and carry it home to her young. Unlike the normal hunter, we had to prepare for our feast. With the meat in the center of our table surrounded by asparagus, mashed potatoes, and gravy, we prepared to pounce. “You may now eat”. Everyone grabbed and clawed for their piece. Snarling and refusing to talk, we shoved the mighty kill in our mouths. We were merciless. Our feast was over just as fast as it had begun. We wiped our mouths and put our murder utensils in the dishwasher, hoping to hide what had been done. The night continued casually, as if nothing wrong had been done.

Today was the usual day at the base as one of the guards watched the show on the television. Nothing was showing up on the radar as men were looking at it for any sudden changes. Tristan Dimont, a private, was looking at the radars until he heard footsteps and got up to salute. The others soon got up to salute at the captain. He saw the captain walked towards him and looked at the radar. "Has anything changed?" the captain said towards the private as he looked at the radar. The private looked at the radar and said, "Nothing so far, sir." he quickly turned to the captain, "But, the radar did spot a couple Spanish ships earlier.".

As a student, I have always handled the pressure of schoolwork and tests by preparing, organizing, and staying ahead of the game. I study for every single test and I practice for every piano, singing, orchestra, and ballet performance. I always plan ahead for the simplest things even in my personal life. I plan my Halloween costumes in August and my December birthday in September. Therefore, preparation gives me confidence and assurance that I will perform successfully. Little did I know that I cannot always control or prepare for every situation. In the December of 2012, someone threw me a lifeline and changed my attitude.

I wake up in my shabby bed, my eyes bloodshot and my lips facing the pillow, I let out a small scream. There's something satisfying about screaming into a pillow, nobody can hear the anger and sadness in your voice. Last night was pretty rough, Dave (my father) beat me for getting a C in maths, I tried, I really did, I just don't understand maths. It's not like art, art makes you feel something, like a world of your own, where only good happens, and abusive dads and bullies are non existent, art's filled with emotion and creativity, maths is just numbers on a page with right or wrong answers.