Reflection Essay

When I first got accepted into Stuyvesant High School, I heard countless of rumors stating: “Oh the workload is terrible”, “The competition is so fierce” or “Out of schoolwork, extracurriculars, or sleep: you can only pick two.” I found it hard to let it faze me, since I graduated from one of the most prestigious middle schools. However, the rumors transformed into reality when I stepped into Mr. Nieves’ Freshman Composition Class. The workload at the beginning of the year was brutal, coupled with assignments from other core classes that seem unaware of the workload of other teachers. Reading assignments were a regular, and there were journal entries and occasional quizzes to keep us in line. What made it bearable was the friends I made in that class; everyone had their own opinion about the topic we were talking about, and listening to other perspectives really broadened my horizon and enriched my learning experience in Stuy. Another thing that this class has taught me is the importance of time management, a skill that I will carry on for the rest of my high school career and life. When I choose to sign up for Mr. Nieves’ AP American Literature class in my Junior Year, I was hoping to relive the discussion-based lesson plans and meet more outstanding peers. I was not disappointed, to say the least, reflecting through all the experiences at the end of the course. The lesson plans he laid out for us were an interesting mix between small lectures and class output, and what I

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.

Knowing now-a-days, how people compare themselves to others. I feel that it is time that we stop. Although it is much harder than it seems. Comparing one another is something we do, there will always be someone stronger, smarter, more attractive, and wealthier. The key is not to let it affect us. An individual will always have something that no one else will. It will differ from each individual. We need to just look at our own life and see what we can do to make it better. If becoming a helper will fill a hole in your life, as it does mine, then do it. If becoming a parent does then do it. We need to stop looking at other people’s lives and focus on our own. We are on this earth for one reason, to live. So we need to stop dwelling on what we don’t have, and go out there and get it, and live, go out and live life. Life is too short to keep complaining about what other people have. Everyone just needs to live life to its fullest.

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."

Prior to the beginning of my sophomore year in high school, I had already decided upon heading to pharmacy school and learning about the profession in detail before eventually graduating with a professional doctorate degree in pharmacy. Taking advantage of the Summer Scholars Advanced College Academy program offered by the local community college, I could participate in secondary dual enrollment while still in high school. Throughout the entire three years from there on out, I would typically attend high school classes in the morning and afternoon and come evening time, I would head over to the college. During my sophomore year, my brother advised to stick with 3- and 4-unit non-science courses to slowly ease myself into this new schedule. Focusing primarily on the relatively lighter breadth requirement courses, I would be endowed with the opportunity to come home, eat a snack, and complete a few homework assignments before heading to class once again but this time, at a different institution.

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.

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.

Every person on this earth has a past that shapes them and makes them into a unique individual. I am a 19-year-old student who has a life that may seem to have little flaws from the view of an outsider, but in all honesty been a journey of difficult ups and downs. I have found that many of the readings we are required to do in university will not personally touch us or make us reflect deeply on our own lives. This certainly was not the cas e when I read the personal essay titled Ghosts and Voices: Writing from Obsession by Sarah Cisneros’, because I found that I connected on a deeply personal level to three principal aspects of this piece of writing. First of all, I was also ostracised as a younger child, but in a school setting not at home. In those difficult years when I felt like I had no one, I escaped into the worlds created in books and through trying to write my own stories. Secondly, like Cisneros’, I found myself deeply connecting with some of the books I was reading and in them found the girl that I wanted to become. Lastly, this entire piece was how Cisneros’ discovered her voice as a writer. She found that the best way was to write what you know best, basically using your own experiences to draw your readers/audience in, which is also something I am well versed in not only as a writer but also a performing musician. I truly connected with this piece by Cisneros and was able to find many key parallels between our personal lives that really struck a chord with me.

As the first semester of my first year as an undergraduate student has progressed, I have realized how quickly time is passing by. I can easily recall back to the beginning of the semester when it was Frosh week and how nervous and excited I felt as I was about to commence the new chapter in my life that is post-secondary. As the mid-semester quickly sneaks upon us with another five weeks left, I have found myself to be stumbling from morning to morning and from deadline to deadline. I am mentally and physically exhausted as well as overwhelmed with the amount of work I am required to complete; I am burnt out.

Upon my enrollment in high school, I joined multiple student organizations. I have been a member of my High School’s marching band, the Sound of Pride (SOP), since the eighth grade and have continued to participate every season. I marched both trombone and euphonium before becoming the Assistant Drum Major as a sophomore in the 2016 season. This past season, I was named the band’s Drum Major, becoming the school’s first junior to ever hold the title. After the conclusion of the marching band season, I perform with the TCHS Symphonic Wind Ensemble for both a winter and spring concert. During the spring, I also perform with the TCHS High Tide Steel Pan Band. I have been a member of both bands since freshman year. At the start of my junior year, I became the pianist for the TCHS Chorus. This year, I also joined the TCHS Drama Club and participated in the club-sponsored One-Act Play titled, “The Great American Talent Show.” Finally, the my sophomore year, I was chosen to be one of the six members of the Georgia Secretary of State Student Ambassadors to represent my high school and Tattnall County. Through this program, my team and I educate our community about how our government works and volunteer at local voting polls and municipalities. I was chosen to be a part of this team again at the start of this semester.

1.0 Prepare an individual reflective submission demonstrating awareness of academic skills required for your learning journey.

When I first thought about where I would serve back in the spring, my initial idea was at a soup kitchen. I had worked at one during the Sophomore Retreat Experience, and while I found the three hours we were there exhausting, they were also really fulfilling. However, at the time I was also learning more about myself through the enneagram and was really coming to terms with my particular manifestation of social anxiety. I knew that in a impersonal environment like the one I had experienced at the soup kitchen sophomore year I would not motivate myself to independently form interpersonal relationships. If I went to serve without connecting with people, I would have felt, "that i had no real intention of meeting, even learning about, [the] needs," of those I was serving. I needed an environment that was deliberately structured to create those relationships, like GiGi’s Playhouse. At GiGi’s I feel challenged to live in solidarity with these kids and their parents, and to move past the anxiety that holds me back from connecting with new people.

There are many lessons I learned in a little over a year. June 24, 2016, I remember standing on the stage at CSU when the old district president gave her words of wisdom to me and I received the district flag. Our first event as an officer team we elected the secretary, treasurer, and parliamentarian. When Sarah, the old district president, stood up to nominate me for Parliamentarian I looked at her like she was crazy. I never thought that I would get the spot until they announced my name as the new parliamentarian. As a new team, we went to New Mexico as a new team and I met some people that are fun but I never thought they would become my best friends. I remember thinking that they were some of the best when we were sitting around telling embarrassing stories and Kyle, The State president, told his most embarrassing and everyone else just laughed. When we said goodbye it was hugs, tears and until next times.

Organization is one specific tool I have used throughout my life consistently that has helped me become who I am today. When I was a little kid, my mother use to say, “ okay, now help me clean up.” This stuck with me and as years went by, I eventually did so without her asking. I had a place for all of my things. If it wasn’t there when I went to look for it, I became anxious. Point is, at a very young age, I discovered the need for things around me to be organized and tidy. Throughout the course of one’s life, we adapt many practices that later shape who we are. These practices are called literate repurposing. While gathering my research, I came across many unique findings. This character trait has never diminished, and I've repurposed my organizational skills all throughout my life.

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