Personal Narrative: The Carey House For Girls

As I sat in my fourth grade English class listening to my teacher tell me "you have a book report due in just two short weeks" and I thought to myself how am I ever going to do this? I have never been a good writer and I have no idea where to begin explaining the book "Little House on The Praire" and presenting it in front of the class without being embaressed as all get out.The day went on as I thought about it more and more the bell rang. I ran out to my mom's car and stated "Mom I have a book report due in just two short weeks and I cant do it. She said "why not honey" I said " Im just not s good enough writer" She said " yes you are and yes you can and you will do a fantastic job at it. That is when I realized I am a writer.

Many adoptees feel out of place, they struggle finding a place to settle and when they do they often times feel as though they need to work to prove their worthiness. As an adoptive shield grows he as long The begins to question. He question why his birth parents didn 't want him and why he wasn 't good enough for them. He may begin to wonder why he act and looks the way he does. Being an adoptee can cause crippling anxiety, in the case of Lesli Johnson, " I went to therapy for the first time when I was 6 years old because I had begun to suffer from sleep issues and crippling separation anxiety from my mom." ( Johnson ). An adopted child has the right to know their birth parents; so that they can have some sense of self worth and identity, they can learn something of their past, and find acceptance in the way things are.

I didn't always live in California. Before California I lived in Denver, Colorado. Before Denver I lived in Aurora, Colorado. When we moved to california we had a family of five. We moved to California, when I was six, Then we lived at my grandma’s house in Riverside for a year. We found a place on Ferree Street and that became our home.

On April 1, 2000, I was placed into a group home because of my behavior at the home. My dad and I didn’t get along. So he sent me to a placed called Bowman House. When I arrived there the first person I met was a lady name Alexander, she begin showing me around the units. Alexander was called the granny of the units. It was two units for the boys and girls. She took me to the boys unit first to look at the units. After I looked at the boys unit she took me to the girls unit. Where I would be staying. I had the chance to bond with Alexander, it wasn’t something I was trying to do it just happen. I had to stay with Alexander until the staff came back from picking the other peers up from school. An hour pass and the peers came back I had to go

Things changed quickly in Ashley Brawley's house when she smelled smoke while she was blow drying her hair, but the burning smell wasn't coming from the bathroom she was in, and it didn't have anything to do with her hair.

A few years ago, a friend of mine named Angela, invited me to her family’s Thanksgiving. The invitation was offered for the sole reason that she did not wish to be alone with her cousin, who to her and to her parent’s was a corrupting influence. An agreement was struck and my mother and I drove to the camp where it was to be held and sojourned for the night. Upon our arrival it was just Angela’s immediate family and us, and even when her cousin arrived, we avoided her. However, in the morning the situation changed. Not only had Angela’s friend, Christian, who I was not expecting, arrived, but Angela’s parents convinced Angela to spend time with her cousin. This transmuted the entire dynamic of the environment.

83 + years ago, I was a male trapped in a females body, but on Feb. 13, 1933, in a one room garage, with a wood stove for heat and cooking and coal oil lamp for lighting, nestled up in the Ozark Mountains in northern Arkansas. Dr. Watkins the only Doctor in that small community, came to that little farm by horse and buggy and delivered me. My Dad and Mother named me, Luchen Allen Bailey. I will always be proud to say, “I am the son of a dirt farmer, from Alpena, Arkansas.”

I knew it was a dangerous thing to do, but I had to do something. I am Hannah Jean Grooms the third. The young, 21 year old, preacher's child. The absolute most loved by the community, for the most simple thing ever. I saved a person from a blistering fire, nothing at all right? Then everything changed.

From early on in life I knew that I was adopted. Unfortunately, that was about all I knew. I knew when and where I was born and the approximate age of my biological mom, but the rest was left to question. I often found myself wondering, "Who was she?" "Who was he?" "Was it love?" "Where are they now?" "Did they end up together?" "Are they even alive?" "Who would I be had I stayed with them?" "Where did my characteristics come from?" Questions like this ran through my head almost daily. It wasn’t until my eighteenth birthday that I got any answers; it was then that I learned some life changing information about my origins.

learned his real name, and why he wanted to join our Young Sabbath Keepers studies, after a brief praise and thanksgiving to Jehovah at our Liberty Lane address, we all departed with a joy unknown to our young souls. As I was on my way to take Sarah and Mary home, I thought I saw that same car that sped off from the rally following us. Then it turned a few blocks from Sarah’s house. I did not say anything to Sarah or to Mary, but in my heart I said a quick prayer and dismissed it from my thoughts, After Mary went inside their house, Sarah and I sat in the car for a while.

I sat up as my eyes started to fill with tears. I clenched my arm trying to forget the pain I was currently feeling. I was trying to catch my breath but my heart felt like it was pounding one million beats per second. The grass was drowning in the water rushing from my eyes. All I could think of was pain.

This was the second occasion the ex Army veteran had decided to move on, and leave all behind. However, the difference this time, was that he had nothing to leave, except a job where he despised the cowards he worked with, and instead of getting far away from a woman before he murdered her, he was taking one with him on a mission to kill.

I smoothed down my long skirt and made my way up the steps. I knew other girls would probably be wearing something a bit more revealing, after all this is a Halloween party and as Cady says, 'In Girl World, Halloween is the one day a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything else about it.' But I was not up for the short dress that is needed for the mouse costume, or the tight latex suit made for cat woman. Instead, I had decided to go dressed as a girl from the 50's.

I’ve decided that it is Mrs. Carey's goal in life is to make sure I fail Algebra 2. She has clearly had a grudge against me since the first day I came to Washington High School two, long years ago and accidentally spilled milk on her white blouse, and she finally has the opportunity to make me pay for my clumsiness. Right now, I am barely passing the class with a C- as my overall grade. I doubt it will get any better. Having Mrs. Carey as a teacher is like being dropped in a country you don’t know the language of and trying to communicate. It just doesn’t work.

For years, I convinced myself that the story of my life began when I arrived in America at eleven months old. I tumbled through the clichéd white-picket-fence childhood, never realizing how impossible it was to completely discard the first year of my infancy. While I had always known about being adopted from China, I did not fully comprehend the weight of this detail until my late teenage years.