Personal Narrative-Studying Minds

I could see her face trying not to laugh at my accent, I never felt so embarrassed in my whole life, but at least she did not ignore me, she replied with a smile and said “yes”. Well what a great start to my day, as I walked into the building I saw a seemingly endless line to nowhere, but as I got in line a person tapped my shoulder. I immediately turned around thinking it was the girl again, however, it was just another student, he was a tall guy, however, he did not look like he played sports, he was really scrawny, and with a surprised look at his

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade

Once I got onto the road i was afraid to see the man in black and if he would do anything to me or stop for me. I've been on the road for about three hours no sign of him yet. I guess i spoke to soon I finally

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

The stone was cold and I could feel the pain swelling up inside. I took a step towards the edge, I thought to myself, “One more step and the worries would end…” if only it was that easy.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

I put my foot on a chair and out wiped my hands on the side of my thigh. Then I saw him walking up the far end of the street.

“I’ll see you soon. I’ll see you when we all live in peace and harmony. I’ll see you on the other side.” My great-grandmother, Minda, was a ninety-one year old lady from Russia who had a passion for dance and music. Minda, I called her Omi, filled any room with joy and happiness. Omi fell deaf at a very early age, which led to her family's move to America to get a stapedectomy which repairs hearing loss. Unfortunately, doctors in America were unable to save her hearing. Even though she was deaf, she still sang and danced her way through life, until the very end.

I buried my head into my mother’s shirt. My warm tears dampened her shirt, but I could tell she had no intention of pushing me away. There were other voices around me, but her’s was the only one that I cared to focus on. “You’re a strong and brilliant little boy,” she said to me, “you shouldn’t let this move break you down like this.” I knew she was right, but I was just so furiously confused that I didn’t want to acknowledge it. “How could you know?” I howled, “you’re not the one who’s spending hours alone every day because you’re too terrified to ask anyone if they want to play a game or hang out or even have a conversation!” My sobbing intensified. “No,” she quietly said to me, “but you’re not the only one who left Costa Rica to come here.”

Do you remember your first couple of years in Elementary School? It was your first time going to a big school with kids many years older than you, and not wanting to stay because of the new faces you didn’t recognize. Then you start to remember the good times you had, maybe meeting your best friend, or how excited you were to be the line leader for the first time. When kids are young they don’t see the importance of education or school, they’re energetic, and eager to see their friends every morning. It was all fun for me, too. I couldn’t wait to see all my friends and to tell them what I ate for breakfast that morning or about the new dog I got the day before. I was one of those kids until I was held back

Years later my father goes missing, and he goes missing allot, but this time was different, no calls, can’t track his phone, and hasn't been seen for weeks. I walk into my brother sam's dorm in stanford before feeling a fist hit my face i back up and when this man throws another punch i grab his arm and pin him to the ground. Sam realizes it to be me and questions why he's here. Moments

From the time I was five to about nine, I was in the hospital every year at least three to four times for hurting myself.

Be open-minded: an ability that is essential to connecting with others. As a Vietnamese-American female, it's feasible for me to be closed-minded as a consequence to how I was raised. I was taught subconsciously, “I am exceedingly fragile, merely ignorant compared to a man.” I was taught to behave a certain way to be accepted by others, and to find interest in specific things. I love the color black of boldness, but was forced to like the color pink of delicacy. However, I am not close-minded. I am an open-hearted teenager, who loves expressing herself and empathizing with others. I am an intelligent, daring woman, not fragile and uneducated. I am in control of my own life, not requiring a male figure for success. This is accurate, because I had the opportunity to attend my four years of high school at East Kentwood High School (EKHS); the most diverse school in Michigan.

The first year, the time to prove myself had arrived. Classes, rooms, teachers, and some students were unfamiliar. Eventually, minutes melted into hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. It didn’t take long before my schedule was routine, something of second nature. Humor and happiness were found in the form of my advisory family, where school was transformed into something more than going through the same motions of day to day activity. By the closing point of sixth grade, I was having a hard time letting go of what I’d adapted to. “What’s wrong?” my dad asked when I was getting into the car after being picked up early on the last day. I explained how distressed I was that my first year of middle school exceeded my expectations, and that it had to come to an end. Although his outlook viewed my reason for sorrow as trivial, I didn’t.