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.

Sitting in a hospital waiting room, alone, afraid; and waiting for the news; would she be ok? Would she even survive? My nerves were out of control; my heart was beating through my chest, you could literally see it thumping through my top. The beads of sweat racing down my forehead, as if I was in the middle of the Safari dessert. I have been an athlete my entire life, yet I have never felt so physically drained. I look around, my eyes opening, then closing; as if I am coming in and out of consciousness, then suddenly echoed words begin to ring around my ear drums….” Sir…...sir, can you hear me? Sir please, we need to know what happened. We need to know what happened to her. Maybe my motionless state showed my

It was a hot sweltering Saturday in August, August twenty-seventh to be exact. I remember waking up that morning with my stomach in knots we were to play the Hot Springs Bison. Sure, I played JV last year and practiced all summer with the first team but now all the hot god awful gut ranching two a day practices were about to pay off.

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 go to the woods to calm down ,take a break from the drama. My dad used to take me to this special spot where these rocks split and you can stem to the top of them and sit down. For some reason the view and the feel is so peaceful. There's a dip in the rock perfect size for my body. I'll kick back and look up at the sky and sometimes, it’s rare though i’ll listen to music and sometimes fall asleep and when I wake up i'm refreshed and calm. Sometimes i'll stay there after i'm calm and just chill and sometimes if a friend comes over well sometimes go over there and we'll play around on the rocks and talk and after a little bit of hanging out we will go back inside and play my PS4 for a little bit and after the gaming we are still bored we

1,764 miles, 26 hours, 1560 minutes from home. My feet may have left the frigid snow in Minnesota ten years ago, for a sandier terrain in Florida, however, my heart has yet to travel. Growing up in Minnesota till I was six years old provided me with the comfort of growing up alongside family and friends, who’s families have known each other for generations. This comfort in my surroundings was shifted to a new sense of ignorance when I moved to South Florida. I was greeted by a new reality of diversity. My peers no longer resembled me, with their light skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. They were replaced with a medley of skin tones, eye colors, and accents. To be greeted in a grocery store with a “buenos días”, rather than a “good morning” was a complete eye opener to my family and I.

When I was 12 years old, and my grade wasn’t promising. My parents all blame me, but never encourage me to bring it back up, so for a year my grade never changed. During that year my mom treat me like I wasn't her son. Me and my mom fight almost every day. The next year, everything was the same. My grade was still on the ground, until the next semester my friend encourage me and helped me to bring my grades up. They tried to help me and try to convince me to compete with them so I can bring my grades up faster. When I was 7 years old, there was a bully back in China who was in 6 grade. He beat up first, second, and third graders. I told my parents so they can do something about it, but they thought I was talking about a third grader, so they say to deal with the problem myself. For a year he was still bullying people, so my friend courage me to go with them so that we can tell the teacher. The teacher didn't do anything about it, some and my friend brought bats and beat him up. Some of my friend got hurt pretty bad, but we got him into the hospital, and after that he stopped bullying people.

I am not one to pick up hitchhikers, it’s just not safe, everyone knows that but for some

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.

Everyone has a fear, even me. Specifically I fear the past will change both me and my future. Your question might be what’s your past? That is my story to tell you. Should something like this ever happen to you, I know how you feel, and you know the same for me. In Sheridan, Wyoming I was a nine year old and I thought nothing would change my future. That’s when it came. The hidden truth. I wish someone would tell me the truth. No lies and no hidden truths. I mean I’m older now just tell me the truth of the past. I know now the past had changed, and why it changed.

I started my walk from the AGO which is located on Dundas Street West. It was a sunny and bright day early in the morning. People seemed to be walking towards the art gallery from all directions of the city as well as riding up on their bikes. The many bikes standing by the gallery gave the impression that many visitors were flocking to the site. The revolving doors of the art gallery were moving continuously, people were going in and out. The constant movement indicated to me that the place was popular. The entrance of the gallery seemed also to be a temporary meeting hub for people. It is by the entrance that people stood together and chatted. As I stood and observed the gallery, I also witnessed many groups of children walking

One Cold and windy morning, I woke up to my brother yelling “YaY, It’s time.”Me and my two brother Justin, and Gio were finishing packing up.My dad and his girlfriend went to get the car, my grandma and grandpa were still asleep.

This I Believe. Through our lives, we have the opportunity to learn through experiences. What we learn in these experience is unique for all of us and can change how we think about and live life. Through the opportunities I have been given, I have learned one of the best lesson that I live by to this day; you can overcome anything. Here is how I learned this, and I hope you can learn from it, too.