Personal Narrative: The Social Norm

I was thirteen when I moved to the United States. July 7, 2007 was the day my brothers and I packed up our belongings and left Haiti. It was a very exciting day because I got the chance to be on an extremely large white and blue airplane for the first time, and most importantly, reunite with my parents, whom I did not know because my father left Haiti when I was three years old, and my mother left a several years later. As a teenager, I had the mindset of living in a fairytale land. I did not think about the possible challenges I might encounter after leaving my homeland. The idea of adjusting to a new culture, learning a new language, and socializing with others that do not have the same tongue as me never ever crossed my mind. Little did

I was so mad that just wanted to scream till my voice dried out. My face was redder then the fake apple that she would pass to student who had the right to talk or answer the question. I had to step out the room and get some air because that was just too much. I couldn’t accept that one teacher didn’t gave me any chance because she thought I was unintelligent. Next day I asked to change my schedule but was denied since it was almost near the finals and change my schedule would change all the other course. I explain to the teacher how I had felt and the reason behind me stepping out the meeting, she was so shocked as I was when she gave a piece of chocolate and hug saying how sorry she was. I had no words to explain what was going in my mind because it was full of confusion, shocked and gladness that she had finely understood me. That cold feeling stopped and I began to continue to asking questions when I didn’t knew answers. Slowly she had started to stop ignoring my hand calls and started asking me

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.

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.

Part 1: To be perfectly honest, I’ve never had a time where I have felt very isolated or very included in a school setting, well not a time that is particularly memorable. But, from talking to my friend, Caroline, she remembers her senior year of high school she was had a writing class and the majority kids in that class were the “cool/popular kids.” She recalls many instances where her teacher, Mrs. Upadhyay, would mock or make fun of the questions she would ask or the comments she would make in class. There was one instance where there were a group of popular boys in class and they were insanely chatty. Her teacher never asked them to stop talking but when Caroline turned to her partner to ask a question she was immediately called out. Another instance was when Mrs. Upadhyay was lecturing and a lightbulb went off in Caroline’s head. She thought she would say something that would really impress the class and help them understand the lecture. She raised her hand, when her teacher saw it instead of calling on her she chose to ignore her. Caroline thought it was okay though, she would wait until Mrs. Upadhyay was finished. Shortly there after, a popular boy raised his hand and she stopped her lecture to call on him. Caroline was completely appalled by this. She immediately cut off the

I walked down the hallway, pacing myself. I was expecting someone to shriek in horror or someone to push me to the ground. To my surprise, everyone just kept on talking and ignored me. A couple of kids glanced in my direction and smirked at me. My best friend gushed at how cool my glasses were. My teacher didn't even glance at me twice when he told me to sit down.

Right after she said that, she went silent. I wondered why she was not mentioning anything about her meeting with my teacher, Mr. Frick. I became very anxious, even though I could not recall a time when Mr. Frick had gotten

The moment she walked past me though, she easily changed it to a look of fierce anger. Her eye narrowed and she was clearly upset with what I had done a few days ago. Out of habit l quickly realized I didn't care if she was angry with me. I still had that burning desire of her wanting to know and feel what I had to go through my own freshmen year.

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

I grew up as one of the hardest things to commit to, black and alternative. My meaning of alternative is being interested in goth fashion and heavy metal music. From what I was told, being black is listening to hip-hop and dressing like everyone else around them or what is the social norm. Clearly, my definition of alterative is contrasting on what it means to be “black.” I say it's hard to commit because coming from a closed black family, I felt pressed to let go of what I felt about myself just to make them happy. Questions like, ‘’Why are you trying so hard to be different?’’ or ‘’Who told you that was okay?’’ Still replay in my head whenever I decide to wear something that I would feel most comfortable in. Not long ago, I got into an arguement

It all started when one day, when Jonathan decided to pull my skirt up while I was throwing away some trash in the wastebasket. As he did so I pushed him off me, and at the same time the teacher saw the commotion that was going on. The teacher didn’t allow me to explain why I had reacted that way. Instead of letting Jonathan or any other peers give the explanation on the incident, she got up from her chair furious. She grabbed me by the shirt and slapped me on my back leaving a mark.

There were many people staring. People that I do know and people that I don’t know were staring. There was not a lot of interactions that occurred. In some classes, people made comments while in other classes there weren't any comments made. A teacher and a few students complimented my outfit. A student asked if my outfit was inspired by the clothing that was worn in the 1950s. Another student complimented my shoes. A teacher said she liked my outfit and also said "pretty in pink" referring to the skirt I wore. There were not any punishments for violating a social norm of

I personally found trying to find a single “Social Norm” to break challenging so I chose to do two instead. The first was to end my phone calls with I love you, and to talk to a stranger in the bathroom stall next to my own. Which is how I confessed my undying love to a coworker. Working at a casino, employees have to call surveillance for anytime they move around with money or have to be escorted to the vault. I’m a pretty lively person but going into work, I started to get this bashful nature about myself especially the closer it came to performing both of the social norms I gave myself to break.

Another student gave me a weird look as if he wanted to harm me. Little did I know, he was one of the toughest kids in my grade level, and he had the biggest crush on Andrea. His name was Billy.

Suddenly, there was a hush in the room. The teacher had asked someone a question! I tried to seem casual as I glanced up to see if I was the unlucky person who had been called upon. My heart jumped and then I realized that the teacher was looking at the person to my right, waiting expectantly for an answer. I stared at the girl also, as if I was truly interested in whatever ramblings might come out of her mouth about the dead general and his battle. I felt my face grow warm with a slight blush as I became embarrassed for her and her inability to answer the question. She must have been paying as much attention to the lecture as I had been. Finally, she was able to formulate a less than mediocre answer that satisfied the monotone voice at the front of the room and the lecture resumed. Another glance back at the girl and I saw the cell phone palmed in her left hand down by her side. She had been text-messaging someone instead of paying attention!