Personal Narrative: The Test That Breaks The Rest Of My Life

The front parking lot was full. I just couldn’t get a break. I drove around to the back and found a spot behind the depot. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel. If Mother caught me there’d be no mercy, but as long as I made it to the hospital to see my dad, I didn’t care. I said a quick prayer for courage, and exited the

With thoughts running rampantly through my head, I shouted, "Backtrack on 40, make a left on 55, hop onto 42 and get out at 130". Understanding through her facial expression that my words weren't making sense, I tried again and said, "U-Turn". Obliging to my order, she turned and sped off, fearing that we would be late. In that instance, I finally came to understand how vital of a role I played in getting the family to our destination.

I never realized how boring and long a car ride could seem when you’re anxious and excited for what’s to come. I never knew what waited down the path I chose, and how easily something can be lost. These events led me to the way I am today and whom I want to be in th future.

The test includes our emotional assessment, a physic test, personality, math, history, DNA, genetics, language, art, science, and critical thinking. Today was the last one critical thinking and then I would meet with my counselor who would tell me my test results; the test decided my career, which neighbors I would live in, how many children I would have and who I would have them with. Next Zulie and I headed to the bathroom to freshen up and then off to our classroom to pick our seats, next to each other of course, and front and center. And with our other friends circling in around us with Fauz and Hellnet no where to be

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.

The second day of my practice I felt that I had made some progress towards my goals of improving my time management and getting my documenting done earlier and providing relevant healing initiatives for my client.

There I was on the block next to the High Bar. It was about 5:00 at night when my coach told me to do a Kip. As I got up on the bar my nose filled with the smell of chalk. I started to swing, and as I came out of my half turn I looked good. Everything seemed fine but as I came to the part of the Kip where I have to pull my legs up to the bar, I slammed my shins into the bar. My momentum was stopped and I dropped on to the mat, missing the Kip. I felt like I had let down my coach and I had let down myself too. That day I experienced failure. That failure made me want my Kip even more so I worked harder and had support from my teammates.

“This way,” he said as he led his siblings out of the station. They passed through a large arch on the way out and onto a heavily trafficked sidewalk. They saw signs for a number of different restaurants and businesses, as well as construction a ways down the road. “We have to go left from here and turn right onto Cumber Street. Then it’s a straight shot until we see a sign for the school, and that’ll give us the rest of the directions.

I hate writing tests! It’s as simple as that. I hate the feel of a rough pen on my soft, delicate hands, which have vanquished after putting up a hard fight. I hate my brain desperately struggling to recollect information, from the inadequate study period from the previous night. Most of all, I hate the collecting of the results of an inevitable failure, doomed to face me at the end. Looking back at this picture, of me writing that unbearable test, I remember. I remember a feeling reassembling itself to me in tiny fragments, one by one, and for a brief moment, so microscopic it cannot be measured in time, my heart skips a beat. Then, and then alone I am brought back to that room, to that desk, to that test, and all I feel is hate.

Hi iam Edgardo Flores i was born in casa grande, az not that far away from our state capital,Phoenix, Az.theres nothing better to do in a hot summer than going out with the friends to a lake and have a blast riding jet skis boats and my favorite, swimming!My activites of the day are shooting,riding horses,and my favorite one is quad riding.Thats right! ive been doing these fun exciting hobbies since i was 9 years old.pretty young huh?

I had been practicing parallel parking for weeks and I still wasn’t improving. I attended driving school, practiced with numerous friends and family members, and watched videos on YouTube. I had exhausted all of my resources and wanted to give up.

I opened the doors and walked into the building where a young, peppy lady sat at the wooden desk in front of me and excitedly greeted me saying, “Hi! Can I have your name please?” It was the day of my driving test and my nerves are getting to me more than ever before. The words “Andrew Tenore,” came out in a sputtery mess. “Thank you, take a seat. Goodluck!” she called. There was a couple other people waiting with me, all with the same blank, distressed face as myself. As I sat there, for what felt like forever, I began to have thoughts about how this test could go.

I’d had many mini-lifelines thrown my way, none turned out to be the life-altering, ground shaking beneath me, and gates to opening up “heaven”, though. To me, I’d blame it on the different ways I came off to strangers, depends on the day, I could be a multitude of characters, but never latch onto the following of others. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted my lifeline to latch onto, the problem was, I was like a fishing net with a gaping hole--incapable of doing such things. Then, the last person I expected to, stepped up and accepted the challenge.

Well this year was a hell of a year. I mean, i didn't pass any of the semesters but i did observe a ton of stuff that went on in the class. The class in general was pretty lit. Every day went by and i honestly did some work. The class was ready to learn as mrs g was ready to teach. I mean yea we had some days were we didn't want to learn anything and there were also days when mrs g didn't want to teach. But ima be honest, doing the work we did wasn't in my best interest. Most of the projects we did in class i worked on, but at the end i didn't end up liking how i did it so i wouldn't even bother turning anything in. like the obituary we had to write about ourselves. I liked the meaning behind this but honestly i didn't want to work on that because it just brought back memories of my friends that were killed.

“But Dad, I don’t wanna drive!” I whined, even though there had been no time for that; we had two hours of open highway to conquer. I had felt butterflies adding to my stomach with every mile closer the gps informed me I was getting to the practice