Reflection Essay

Coming into Drexel this year, a necessity, I learned was to have a clear understanding of the mechanics for literature composition. I learned that it would mature my writing to a higher level of thinking. This is seen as past experiences in my writing through high school English teacher feedback indicated my writing to be full of flaws. I often would receive feedback on my writing being awkwardly worded or lacking fluidity. The one valuable skill I learned from English 101,102 and 103 was the idea that exposure to different readings, formulas and informal writings give practice, for me to find my own voice in writing.

The first smart goals I chose are to learn to become a leader and to have better time management skills. I chose these because I work on a small unit with no assigned charge nurse. Any day you go in to work it could be your day to be charge nurse so everyone on the unit needs to be able to step up and be a leader. Time management is a skill that every nurse needs to learn. In my opinion, if you have good time management skills it can decrease your stress level and make your workday more organized and enjoyable.

A red shirt with black jeans. As I approached the building's entrance, I thought nothing of my clothing. Neither did the officers who checked my identification, patted me down, and escorted me. The program coordinator had instructed us not to wear green shirts, to make our clothing distinct from the forest green uniforms of the "inmates." I sat in the classroom, preparing for class, going over readings for the lecture, thinking about possible debate topics, and conversing with the students. A correctional officer entered, glanced around, and declared to the instructor, "There should only be five inmates in here. I'm counting one extra."

6. Think about an academic subject that inspires you. Describe how you have furthered this interest inside and/or outside of the classroom.

Doors, oceans, cities, all these different descriptions have been used by different people to describe their mind. However, my mind is a never-ending slide show, with me sitting down watching different slides constantly flash before me on the projector. Their random most of the time, but I can choose which slide goes up when I need it. However, there is one slide that sneakily gets into the projector, I don’t remember putting it there, but it always manages to get in. Whenever this slide appears, shackles come out of my chair and traps me, forces me to look at this memory. I remember it well, I was around 10 or 11, I was sitting in my room playing a board game by myself, see my sisters were always busy and I didn’t have friends to play with, so I always played by myself. Then while playing I start realizing that I'm alone, I cry while the light shines above as I play this board game by myself, with no one around, I was lonely.

Is the glass half full or half empty is a question that many people ask themselves to determine whether they are more optimistic or pessimistic. It is easy to see every glass as half empty, but with a change in your mindset, you can see every glass as being half full. At every football game, cheerleading competition, and band competition, having an optimistic mindset has helped me have a lot more fun than I would have had with a pessimistic mindset.

The challenging component this semester was transitioning from being a high school level writer to a college-level writer. However, English 10 has by far been my best experience in writing. By taking this course I have retrieved many helpful elements, that will help me be a successful writer throughout college. In high school, essays often gave me anxiety and stress, however, when taking English 10, I was able to learn to enjoy the process and the art of writing purposefully and mindfully. Even though I have taken advanced placement English courses in high school and have taken a practice run of college level English over the summer with Professor Brenda Venezia, I was still able to get a lot more out of this course. To showcase my progress in this course, I have included my essay from project 2 a rhetorical analysis titled, “Black Lives Matter!” and a research essay from project 3 titled “Why is Racism dangerous?”, which effectively demonstrate my growth as a creative writer, reader, and thinker.

Not many people attribute hardship to the actuality that they are the initial root of the issue. In my instance, a speech disorder restricted my ability to effectively communicate; however, a subconscious attribution lead me to limit my social interaction. My failure to extort the idea of structured redevelopment immobilized the outcome of effective action.

One aim I remember well is “Why do we prefer to see segregation as natural, or unplanned?” as I was the one who helped pick it. You gave me a choice between this question and “do we prefer to see segregation as natural, or unnatural?” (something like that), and I picked the former because I knew it better prompted the way you like to guide your lessons. I didn’t think you wanted a debate on whether segregation is planned or not, but rather a discuss on how calculated the racism in our nation is. When you asked the class about the aim, I remember there being silence. Even I was uncomfortable answering because Americans have a tendency to not want to accept their faults. It’s in our textbooks, our curriculum, and our daily lives. Every single history teacher I’ve ever had remained very neutral to the information they taught (which I don’t blame them for most teachers are expected to not share opinions), but you did not care and I loved that!! I feel like I never had the weight of how cruel and deliberate our history of racism was really drop on me until I was in your class. Americans passed segregation off as a natural process because we knew it was wrong, and did nothing about it, but we did not want to feel bad about ourselves and accept what a backwards society we created. It’s such a simple concept, but for some reason, it didn’t hit me hard until then.

Tight turns of hatred, steep slopes of everlasting joy, ups and downs and all arounds, my expedition in learning the writing process, writing my first short story and flipping my table over in agony have been nothing short of a never-ending roller coaster ride. There’s a fine line between love and hate and writing sits right on top it covered in chaotic sprinkles and a nice, big, juicy manic cherry on top. My first memory of writing had been in the first grade where I took a writing class and learned about the writing process. It was done in a silly way to help us remember, “brain drain/jot list, sloppy copy, neat sheet, goof proof, last pass” accompanied by goofy dances as well as playful gestures. It was my first exposure to actual writing and it did not appeal much to me at the time due to the excessive steps. To a six-year-old having to make a list of what I wanted to write about, have relevant ideas for each topic in the list, make a rough draft, revise and rewrite said rough draft, proofread the rough draft and final rewrite it once more into my final copy, was just too much to handle. Walking into my writing class each day left me with the sudden plop feeling you get when the roller coaster takes its first fall down the tracks. I recall handing cramps, complaints, and whines about a one paragraph essay. It was agonizing torture to a little kid, yet I would have complained a lot less if I knew what type of writing was in store for me at the age of eight.

I was born in central Los Angeles and remained there until if was five years old. Due to our growing family and some of the concerns surrounding community violence my parents decided to move to Van Nuys. Even within the San Fernando Valley there are areas of high community violence, gang activity and poverty. However, I felt as sense of community support and safety due largely in part to the *** established early on in my elementary school. Though community gatherings my mother found a new source of social support and support networking. The ability to learn about our neighbors and community helps to establish a sense of cohesion, trust and a real community. I remember my mother and neighbors coming together to talk about issues within the larger community that may have been or concern or placed children and families at risk. As I grew older things appeared to have changed. Families moved away, businesses closed down, and again it seems the once united community has reverted to an individualistic neighborhood.

Early in my second year at Laurentian University’s McEwen School of Architecture, I was dealing with a very severe illness. Along with navigating the everyday stress of my second-year program I was also dealing with severe anxiety and depression. I was unable to attend any classes due to anxiety attacks and a constant fear of them hitting me at anytime. This was my third year spent away from home and due to my constant fear of an attack I didn’t feel safe anywhere I went. Thanks to the help of my professors and friends I was able to start to get back on track towards bettering myself. The previous Director of my program, Terrance Gavin, allowed me to withdraw from the program to finally seek medical aid. He gave me the opportunity to better my health before returning to school. Thanks to his support I started to seek counselling along with working on making my own health better. I made a routine for myself, I started to eat healthier and go for daily walks. Since the year ended I believe I have made a dramatic improvement towards my health. I am able to wake up early in the morning and successfully accomplish my daily tasks without feeling anxious and depressed. I also try to visit home on a bi-weekly basis as living so far from my home has also effected my health. I have attached a doctor’s note to this document for verification.

When I was a child, I was a real menace. My mother told me my behavior could clear out a playground. Obviously changes have happened since my playground days and today I’m going to tell you a story prior to my metamorphosis. This is a story that I am not proud to say happened. My parents think it’s funny; however, at the time of the incident they did not. This happened about ten years ago, so I can now look back on it and laugh about what happened with them.

I had butterflies in my stomach and, my heart raced an “Allegro con brio” of one hundred forty-four beats per minute, in sync with the tempo of Beethoven’s First Piano Concerto in C Major. Waiting anxiously for the conductor’s cue, I was ready to play the first chord of the masterwork. I had practiced tirelessly for this audition and visualized this big day, performing with my college orchestra in front of an eagerly awaiting panel of judges. As I reached the cadenza (virtuoso solo passage), I knew it was not my best, despite all the hours of hard work I had put in. Extremely upset, I knew from that moment on that I was not going to be selected as this year’s orchestral pianist. However, I did not let it bring me down. There are always

Over the course of history, evolution has affected different species in their own unique way; the human race is one of them. With time we all can change for the better or the worst that is one of the many things that make us human. We all have different personalities and interests whether it be reading a book or wrenching on a car, that is what defines each of us individually. When I was born I may have been a regular newborn baby on the outside to the common eye but surely I was not on the inside. I was born with a heart condition that made me a million dollar baby faster then you can blink an eye spending the first eighteen months of my life on oxygen and medical monitors at the hospital and at home so my mother would read to me which