Personal Note On Responsibility And Working Came Into My Life

I came home one day to see both of my parents sad. As a third grader, I didn’t completely understand at the time, but my father had been laid off from the job he’d had since his teenage years. My father had started at the age of eighteen as a student worker at Southern Miss, and after years of hard work he had been promoted to the manager of shipping and receiving on campus. When the recession struck, the need to save money resulted in his position being terminated. My father was without a job. My father loved that job and when he lost it, he changed. He found a new love, alcohol. He let his love for alcohol become an addiction. He would do anything for alcohol; he even had secret stashes when my mom had removed all the prior alcohol from the house. Quickly my father became a violent drunk and began to routinely beat my mother and me. He became unstoppable; no person could get him back on track so my mother, in an attempt to keep me safe, removed him from the house. Even my mother’s best efforts weren’t always enough, as my father constantly broke into our house. One day my mother and I came home and my father was waiting in our den with a gun. We walked in, he pointed the gun at us, and then back at himself. He couldn’t decide to kill my mother, himself, or just all of us. He had more hatred in his eyes

An older boy remembered his father, a hardworking blue collar man. He remembered how his father would walk into the home each evening with scraped hands and perspiration stained shirts. His father was a tough man. He was the kind of man that refused to go to the doctor and rarely hugged his children. Yet, he was a good man. The boy remembered how his father provided for the family and often times his smallest actions proved his paternal love for them. One particular memory stood out among the rest. His father had returned home from work late one evening. He had been out celebrating his pay raise with some of his co-workers down at the local pub. He waltzed through the door bursting with

     Due to the fact that my father was now on his own and trying to raise three children (my older brother from my father’s first marriage), he had to take a different position at his work. Although he was getting a raise it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He had to start working the night shift so he could get the raise. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter and because of this new change, I began to lose valuable time with him as well. It was now up to my brother to watch over us at night and make sure we got to bed on time. If there was any trouble or and problems in general, my brother would call my grandmother. For three years my dad worked that job and every night he would stay up after he got home to see us. He would make my sister and I breakfast and make we were off to school on time. This meant the world to me because no matter what he always made time for us.

I come from a family where hard work and dedication runs through our veins like ants out of an infringed ant hill. From birth, both my mother and father have instilled in me the importance of getting a sound education while maintaining a positive relationship with my family, my peers, and with God. It was under the leadership and guidance of my parents that I untapped my thrill for learning and sought to go beyond any stereotypes or labels I was given. Overall, I consider myself to be an academically sound individual. Throughout my career as a student at Monroe High School, I have made an effort to exhibit a sustained, unrelenting work ethic.

We rarely saw Dad without a smile, except when we left food on our plate, and it wasn’t because there were starving children in India. We also learned never to say we were hungry because Dad would mutter, “You kids don’t know what it is to be hungry.” At the time I didn’t know why he said it, but I did know it was terribly important that we gratefully eat whatever food was put in front of us. Dad was loving and thoughtful

She would just make up some lie, and say it’s just because he’s in jail. She didn’t tell me what the story was behind this whole situation. I remember when I was like maybe nine years old, it was in San Jose, where I’m from, and I had seen Matthew get arrested right in front of me. I was devastated. And when I was eleven, she finally told me, and I hated him so much. I didn’t want him to be my dad...like at all. I called him and questioned him and he would just yell at me. Every time he called me, or we talked on the phone, I’d always wondered why he sounded so weird. It was because he was high and drunk and I hated to talk to him. A couple years later, he sent me a card for my birthday and called me the night of, and I asked him myself if he was high. He said no. I asked what he was doing and said he was smoking with his cousin. Another time we talked on the phone in November, I asked him what he was holding. I knew he was drunk, I just wanted to hear him admit it to see if he’ll lie to me. He said he had a beer, so as I was crying, I said, “Can’t you ever talk to me when you’re sober?” So I hung up and the last time I’ve ever heard from him was two years ago, from now, so right now, we’re in 2015, the last time I heard him was in 2013, the night before Thanksgiving, when he hung up with me because he had to go to the bathroom. Now, I don’t know where he’s at, and I don’t ever wish to talk to

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.

What is personal responsibility? What does it mean to have personal responsibility? How do I practice personal responsibility? These are questions that have boggled the mind of every individual at different stages of their lives. The definition of personal responsibility varies from person-to-person, but the popular meaning focuses on the concept that every action has a consequence. Personal responsibility was embedded on my mind at an early age. It was part of my upbringing and learning process. I can still hear my mother saying: “If you do not do your homework, you cannot watch TV”, “If you do not clean your room, you cannot go outside.” Possessing the understanding of how actions have consequences, either positive or negative, is essential to thrive and achieve personal, professional, and academic success. As I matured and developed my intellect, the meaning of personal responsibility became more than just making myself accountable, it also includes doing what is correct, taking charge of my life, and placing the blame on myself for the drawbacks and repercussions that my actions brings. Achieving success in my academic, professional, and individual goals depends on the acceptance of personal responsibility with my education, family, community, and health.

We had more money in the bank and that meant we didn’t have to eat tuna and beans all the time. Instead of eating crappy dinners, we were now eating better ones. I was thankful for that. When my clothes ripped and were no use anymore, I was allowed to get new ones. Before, I would have to deal if they ripped, but now I didn’t. But my mother doesn’t have a job once again. She was treated unfairly at work by her boss and when she tried to take a stand she was fired. Of course it made my father worry, but since he had gotten a promotion, money wasn’t an issue for us

This picture represents me because I am responsible person who does all of my homework on time and I take full responsibility for things this means that I take accountability for all of the things I do especially the work I do in college and I want to prove to people that I am responsible enough so people can easily trust me without having any doubt.

When my family traveled to the United States, I realized that life was challenging me to survive. The first day was a hurdle for me because I could not cook, clean my home, iron my clothes, etc. I cried every day when I remembered my mother because had potential to do all that stuff. At the same time I had another problem. I could not find a driver to take me to school. My father eventually found someone to take me to school by my own car. His name was Aziz and he was kind to me because he didn’t angry when I was late. I admire my parents since they always have helped me to resolve any big

Growing up in a country were the poverty exists, and ranked among the highest death rates in the world; due to war and idiopathic diseases, in which affects thousands of citizens with unknown-ability to cure. Each year thousands of innocent children loses their lives, due to lack of the health care system. That is my home country Iraq, in which I born and raised up to age of seven years old, until my parents made a quick decision in order to help me and my sister, to find a better place for us to live in peace. My mother she was like a bodyguard to me, she always took her responsibility at me when I was at school, she used to stand the whole entire school day, in order to make sure that I don’t need anything, and to be protected when am at school. My sister she was old enough to be responsible by her own, she was in her last year high school, as soon as she turned eighteen years old; the life situation becomes really hard for a young woman willing to join the society, in which the male population is dominate over the women’s. While my dad buzzy at work to keep our house filled with our necessarily needs such as: food, clothes, and paying the tremendous amount of bills. He also offered the best environment to keep us feel protected.

My dad grew up as the second child of three to his mom, and my grandma, Gail Anderson. My dad grew up his whole life having to work, either at jobs to help pay bills, or help in the house taking care of his younger half-brother Brian, who was just a baby when my dad and his older full-brother Alan were teenagers. My dad’s childhood was made even harder when at 5 years old, my dad’s father died, leaving just his mom to take care of 3 boys. My dad eventually had to leave school before he even finished 10th grade so that he could go work to help his family. My dad even bought his own car, a Camaro that he could barely afford. He ended up having to sell it when he got a DWI and he couldn’t afford the increased insurance. My dad worked busing tables as a teenager and into his young adult life, drove trucks for years all around the country, and then

I have a wide range of skills and knowledge that I have acquired throughout my personal and professional life. I can communicate with different types of people regardless of age, race or class. I have accessed a huge range of courses that have enabled me to develop interpersonal skills including negotiation and dealing with different types of people and personalities. I also have the knowledge, drive and enthusiasm to work alone when required as I am self-motivated and can meet targets and deadlines. I believe that challenges are best met positively by developing and improving knowledge and skills and through professional reflective dialogue that leads to change. I am very hard-working and reliable. I work well under pressure achieving a high standard of work. I have practical and organisational skills and I can find solutions to problems and face challenges confidently.

My job here is to do my best to try and get you to think I’m some sort of amazing person who has done so much even though I’ve been through a lot. I’m supposed to make you think that I’m smart and charming and brave. I’ve been told to write about my life so you’d think of me as more than a number, but how am I supposed to tell you the real me and my story when It can jeopardise my chance of getting into my dream college. We all know what the admission counselors want to hear, we know what will get us the free pass. I don’t want to write an essay based on lies. When I go around talking to my peers about what they’re writing about, they say they’re going to exaggerate or lie and some are more confused than possible. We sit here as students, but we do have a life outside of these walls. When you don’t do well in school, you’re expected to have a sob story about how hard your life was and how you couldn’t do your homework and all the trials you went through. The fact that this letter is known for that, is wrong. I want to tell you the truth, but will it stand out from the billions of essays other amazing students have written, will it stay with you because of my honesty? Probably not, but let 's start over it’s worth a try, right?