Personal Narrative: This I Believe

The most important game of the year was coming up and I was ready. Everything was going perfect for me, because I was the starting QB as a freshmen at Englert High School. We were playing Joston High School the number 1 team in the nation since 1960, it was going to be a tough game because they had the number 1 ranked defense, but we had the best offense. The day before the game was just a normal day I went to school and had football practice after school. A couple weeks ago one of the other teams that we had played earlier in the year wanted another game so we decided to play them. They had been the hardest team we had played all year, we had only beat them by a last efforts field goal it hardly went in as it bounced in off the crossbar.

I was ready. This was how we were going to start off the season. Everyone was ready, thinking this was it. We wanted to be the best team on the ice. The coaches came into the room saying, “Let’s go, boys. Let’s start the season off on fire . . . big win today!”

I like to beat the rush for lines and do not prefer being late, but

Many years have gone by with much contemplation about what I wanted to do when I grew up. Due to my age, that vision has looked like many different professions. I started out with dreams of having an Army career starting at the age of 18, to have that quickly change when my new husband and I found we were expecting our first child. When our commanding officer found out, he spoke to us and explained that both of us could be sent to war at the same time. Rather than deciding which family member to give custody of our child to in that situation, I decided to depart from the Army and start my new journey as “mom”.

Reflect on a time when you challenged a belief or idea. What prompted you to act? Would you make the same decision again?

Fourth quarter of my sixth grade year was a dark and rough time for me. I was very stressed and felt as if I was trapped in a box grasping for air. I felt like I was going to completely fail the sixth grade because there were so many projects to be done. Now enjoy my rant full of life lessons and stories.

My mother had quiet a lot of brothers and sisters, there was nine in all.. Mother said most of her brothers and sisters married out of their parents house in Sampson City, moving into one of the houses owned by a man named Mr. Hogan, In these days the houses were called quarters, which consisted of one or two bed rooms and a kitchen all sat in a row. The families living in those little houses worked for Mr. Hogan who was the BOSS MAN. All the men worked at the Turpentine steel, that was owned by Mr. Hogan. They paid no rent and received a very small salary for their labor. Sundays after church was the relaxing time. We would visit with family and friends. In that time we did not own cars in that time, we did not have to go out in shop. The

I was not an intentionally bigoted twelve-year-old. I was raised in an affluent suburban community where the vast majority of people are white. The 100% white private nursery school which I attended was chosen by my parents largely due to its proximity to our home. My public elementary school was about 70% white as it was populated with students who resided nearby. Finally, the private middle school which I attended, located almost an hour from my home, provided me with exposure to the most diverse student body of my youth as it was comprised of about 65% Caucasian children. What each of these formative academic experiences shared in common was both that their student bodies were disproportionately Caucasian, as well as that their senior administrators

I wake up to a red blaring light haunting my face. As I start to regain my vision, I see a contraption of some-sort, wires, buttons and the salience of the contraption, the display. The display is made of red digital lights and a steel frame. A stale 60 is written on the display. I look around the room and it's an eerie white colour, it's empty and bleak. I assume it's a white void, It leads to nowhere as the door must be seamlessly integrated into the wall. Then on the corner of my eye, I see a body. I assume it's a female as it's long silky blonde hair fills a fourth of the room. She's wearing a puffy grey jumper and black jeans with strands of fabric hanging out. From my angle, she looks dead, but I want to inspect her body. I creep towards it, realising this floor doesn't creak like home. I proceed cautiously. As I

I violently shiver as I stand near the stop sign, awaiting my morning bus. My stomach, which had been growling furiously since the afternoon before, is now quiet underneath the layers of jumpers I am casually wearing in sunny, 65 degree weather. Fingers trembling, I plug in the food I plan to eat later on in the day into my calorie counter app, my breath hitching as I realize that today is the start of a new life- a life towards recovery.

There I was, walking through the tall wooden door that laid open in front of me. I am about to work what seemed like, the longest seven hours of my life. The bright ceiling lights were shining in my exhausted eyes from a long day of school. As I prepare to punch in my seven-digit number into the register, I could smell the overwhelming scent of pumpkin in the air. Just as I thought, Dairy Queen has now started the bright fall orange seasonal blizzard, The Pumpkin Pie Blizzard. I can just taste the cinnamon in my mouth that is watering over the smell of the pumpkin spice.

She's got the black plastic of a cutting knife handle gripped in her palm. Beige-painted fingernails glisten under the scrutinizing lights of our glazed kitchen; a classy and neutral color, like herself. She's grinning in concentration, a thin upward-curving line shaping her lips.

"Are you sure?" These were the words the 8 year old version of me first heard after coming home from my grandparent's house. When I was younger, I spent most of my time with my father's parents. Both of mine worked, and we needed someone to babysit. Whether it be in politics or behavior, they are the epitome of being conservative; however, My mother is quite a bit more liberal. I grew up listening to the likes of Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck at my grandparents, and I would often come home to repeat their extremely conservative message. "Are you sure?" were always the words my mother would say to me. These words usually defeated an 8 year old me, but it is now the cue to start a friendly debate. I have grown to be much more like her since I

One sunny August afternoon 5 years ago I made a brash decision that I regret to this very day. A choice I look back to this very day and question: “Why in the world did I do this?”

One Sunny morning in March 2010 I woke up getting ready for work. I couldn’t find where I put my keys to the apartment, but I found the keys. I arrived at work around 7:45 a.m. thinking and preparing for the school day. I entered the school and returned to my workstation to eat an apple and donut before starting bus duty. I walked up front to receive the students off the bus and carpool. Receiving the students with a warm good morning and a great big smile, ‘wow’ without my teeth showing, funny huh! While waiting for the last carpool, a person said to me, you didn’t have to go down like that. Meaning you did not deserve that. I said to the person, what are you talking about, I became confused. The person said to me you come to work on time,