Personal Narrative: Why It Was Important To Me As A Kid

1. The 2nd case study made me reflect on my first head coaching job in football. I was hired by a school in south Texas with the help of a friend I coached with in Oklahoma. He had moved back to his hometown and started teaching and coaching at his high school. He contacted me about the opening and two months later I was hired. I hired him to be one of my assistants and even made sure that he was paid well as a thank you. I was very disappointed with the way he coached that year. I had already make arrangements to move him to a non-coaching position for the next season. I realize I never spoke with him about my expectations or made him aware of how I felt during the season. I identity with Dr. Skinner is some regards. I was caught up in the other aspects of teaching, coaching, and AD duties, I neglected to take care of that issue. I understand that it is OK to hire a trusted colleague or friend but the expectations of them should not be any different of anyone else.

Although I have not thought about how I would stage a play I will give myself a chance to thinking thoroughly about how I would want an audience to receive a piece of work written by the four playwrights we have read this semester. Drawing on Wilson’s famous speech, I have an idea about what I would want. The Ground on Which I Stand is one that acknowledges the amazing playwrights we were able to read this semester. I appreciate what they have given to the world through the stage and in print. There have been plays that I resonated with me and some that were harder to grasp. Many of these playwrights talk about connections and family which is a way that I have connected with the characters. I wouldn't use many of the playwrights as influences

As the school years passed by, I kept doubting my religion because I felt different than the other people around me. Second grade to Fourth grade was a blur. I was affected by comments here and there, but nothing too exclusive. I started growing use to it. Until Fifth grade happened. I began wearing the hijab at the end of November of the school year. The first day I wore it, my teacher, Mrs. Casey, decided to ask me in an unprofessional matter, “Why have you decided to wear THAT on your head”. I could feel the eyes of everyone in class staring back at me, like daggers. My reply began with “Cause my cousin began wearing the scarf”. Yeah, I should have told you guys that that’s the reason behind me starting to wear the hijab. There was no reply

I have had many forces and experiences that have shaped me. They have not only shape who I have become, but who I am going to become. Throughout my life I have made a bunch of dumb decisions, mistakes, or things that just happen to me. Everything, in one way or another will take part in what happens in our lives. Whether I’m playing baseball, riding dirt bikes, or just messing around at home, it will all play into who we will become.

On Friday, March 4 around 2:15pm my friend Iris and I decided to drive around to look for a park with children interacting to start our observations. We visited around six parks that varied on their components and locations but had no luck of three children interacting with each other. Most of the them were empty and the few other ones had a few children interacting more with parents or by themselves than with other children. At this point we reasoned that children must be in school causing the parks to be empty.

This passage reminds me about a pen pal that I used to write to every month in grade five. However, when I was in grade seven, I lost contact with her as I didn't receive any letters back from her for over a year. Even though she stopped replying me since grade seven, I still continue to check my mailbox every day hoping to receive a letter from her one day just like what Liesel did in this passage. Also, for the first few months, I would always be worried about her and wonder what has happened to her. As a result, I had many sleepless

I am a first generation child to have been born in my family, the first generation who is about to graduate high school and the first generation to go to a college and succeed in life.

I showed up to school every day with my too-small shoes, my plain dress, and my messy hair. Two girls from my class took my brand-new crayons and broke them in half, telling me I wasn’t their friend. My eyes teared up and I tried my best not to cry. My lips trembled. I cried. My mom didn’t like when I cried, “Crying doesn’t solve any of your problems,” she’d tell me. I never really agreed with her. Sometimes forgetting your problems works.

The girls were feeling better the next day after a good night’s sleep. Both were still red, but not as painful as last night.

I was born on August 11th, 2003 on a beautiful morning in L.A Ontario. I am the only child of my parents. When I was six months old, my parents got divorced. My mom and I and my grandma moved to a different house.

It was only the third month into fifth grade when my mom had informed me that my little brother and I were traveling with her back to our relatives in Morocco. I was beyond angry due to the timing of this trip and how much school i’d miss. Being in fifth grade was a really big deal to me at the time and of course my mom didn’t understand that at all. I hated the thought of all my friends having fun without me so that night when I came back from school, I tried to convince my mom that we shouldn’t go.

Just as the elevator door started to close, several young girls wearing black leotards and sporting bright pink jackets jumped in. The bedazzled dance logo on the back of their jackets with the emblazed word Middletown Dance caught our attention. Before we could ask them a question, the elevator had reached the ground floor.

Growing up, I never really liked children. From the crying over no reason to the whiny voices of deceitful little monsters, the feeling of overwhelmness and depression seemed to rush into me instantaneously whenever I was near one. I dreaded helping out in the nursery during Relief Society Enrichments and yearned to be free when I was stuck babysitting hyper little ones who did not seem to know what an indoor voice was and was all too familiar with screaming. The thought of having kids, let alone being near them was a nightmare. As I saw my peers coo and fuss over a first grader (who seemed to me, knew just the kind of power he had) for hours, I wandered how anyone could be so fascinated by a simple child. It was not until my Junior year that I received more than just that answer.

Being a kid seemed so easy. So consumed in your own imagination that nothing else seemed to matter, too busy to realize the reality. An occasional tear if hurt or scared. It was nice when monsters in the dark crowded dreams, only to soon disappear when you woke up. But there comes a certain age when you are thrown into the den.

I've "known" I was transgender a lot of my life but at the same time I didn't know until I was 14. I grew up in a house with at least eleven people. Sometimes we would have up to fifteen people living in that house and of those eleven to fifteen people, seven of them were children. Four of them were my cousins, three of which were boys, and the other three were my sisters and I. I remember as far back as the age of seven asking myself,"well what if I was a boy?". Unfortunately I wasn't allowed to explore that option until much later because my dad is a very conservative man and so is his family; which is who we lived with at the time. For years I kept trying to make myself more feminine and feigned excitement when I had my first period shortly after I turned eleven, when in reality I was absolutely disgusted. I continued with my life for a year before telling my mom that I think I might be transgender.