Reflection Paper

The first articles, for example, have already opened my eyes to the movement of Christianity’s popularity. It fractured the cornerstone of my stereotypical idea of what a Christian looks like. A Christian may be anybody and, sadly, I was surprised by this. This led me to wonder how much any religion may differ among its followers when the ethnicity and regions are changed. I had not even cared to contemplate the ideas already presented in class but enjoyed the experience of knowledge being thrust upon me. As with biblical heritage, in which, I have used my knowledge of the bible long after the class finished, I am enthusiastic to the idea of learning something that could be applied to my everyday life. This class may differ, though, as the concepts learned may be applied to other religions, whereas, studying the bible was only good for

The world around us shapes who we all are as people. Our experiences, whether surrounded by joy or failure, all help write the story of our lives.. Like the characters in Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Chronicle of a Death Foretold, I understand the importance of a family's devotion to one another, how gender could affect how you are treated, and how rapidly information could spread through a tight knit community. As for those in Thomas Pynchon’s Crying of Lot 49, a twisted version of reality is something I have dealt with, like Oedipa. Using all of what I analyzed from the two books, I have come to believe that I am the way I am due to where I geographically grew up and my Hispanic heritage.

The greatest lessons and the greatest teachers I have had in life have not been in school. I believe the greatest learning takes place when you are exposed the suffering of humanity. I gained insight, compassion, and empathy.

At a young age, I have always dealt with internal issues such as anxiety. Art is one way I could let myself become calm, it has always been there for me when I needed it, but it soon became a problem once I was made aware that Islam would not allow my way of coping. As an aspiring artist I was told by my Islamic teachers that drawing images, anything with a soul, is a mockery to Allah and his ability to create! According to them, I was honoring the man-made idols that were worshipped by the people of Madinah eventually leading them astray in the times of prophets, that I would be punished for my sin. Soon after though, I would see the broad perspective of religion and belief. For many years, I have been told that nothing else was the truth, except for Islam. With so many days spent inside my home, four years of being in an Islamic private school, and being fed nothing but traditional Islamic ideals and opinions, I would grow up to have a closed mind to the Liberal American way. I countered their overwhelming claims. I came to understand that I had the power to make my own decisions in life and that I could determine what made me happy, what made me a good person, even if that meant rebelling against the way I was raised and taught to live since birth. This was the toughest decision of my life.

When I was younger, I used to talk in Pushto; with my mother, father, sister and, basically my whole entire family. Because my family was my life, they were all I’ve ever known. I was five years old when I started going to school, and obviously, as a naive young child, I assumed that everyone talked - or was- exactly like me. Thus, I would talk to classmates in my language, and they’d stare or generally be confused. Correspondingly, Many of them, in their childhood innocence, would respond back in English and continue to play with me. It wasn’t until a few days where I realized that they weren’t the different ones, I was, and I slowly started to change. In reality, my transformation wasn’t drastic at first, since I only just learned the basics. Red was the first word I learned. Something so simple yet is so bold. Red can draw attention towards yourself, like a woman trying to impress her flame. Red is hungry, and so was I. By the time I learned basic English words, and can string together a sentence, all my kindergarten friends and teachers could finally understand me.

I remember, when I was in 4th grade, I used to try to write books or stories. When I was younger, I loved to read with my mom. After we would read something, would try to write something similar to the book we had finished. My mom would help me read books like The Magic Tree House by simplifying and slowing everything down for me so I could better understand what was going on and why. Nina Sankovitch, a reader who blogs about what she reads, captures my feelings when she talks about how “I discovered new wells of resilience and joy, empathy and beauty” (Sankovitch). When I was younger, I did not always know how to capture these emotions, but my goal was always to make a story and try to recreate those feelings. It was a real accomplishment for me because, while this was happening, I struggled with reading in class. When I first started reading, I would dread being called upon, though I liked to write stories of what I read on my own. Now, I do not enjoy to reading anymore.

There once was a time where I had no expectations on what was to come. Whenever I attempted to picture my future, I couldn’t. I did not know my career goals or any of my hobbies. Fortunately, the summer of 2014 changed everything for me. It was the summer I first volunteered to help with vacation bible school at my church. From that moment on, I had a fresh mindset and new goals. I permanently found an activity I enjoyed doing. Following that summer, I volunteered with VBS the three summers after. I enjoyed engaging with the children so much that I ventured into teaching second and third graders on Wednesday nights. Throughout this journey, I have been greatly inspired. Volunteering with children through my church has transformed me into a better and different person, through strength, career goals, and my faith.

Mrs. Anderson is the 5th -grade teacher. She has 25 students, but two of her students disrupt the whole class by arguing and fighting with each other. Zack has a specific learning disability in reading. He likes math and geometry, he is a quiet worker during independent work and likes to stay after school to feed a guinea pig. Patrick enjoys telling funny stories and being limelight. He is an average student, likes sports. According to Mrs. Anderson’s observation, Zack likes to argue with Patrick, yelling or crying on Patrick’s teasing or even pushing Patrick if he doesn’t respond to his request. Patrick teases Zack and other students by name calling or making hurtful comments. When called on during class discussion Patrick can give unrelated or inappropriate information ( Star Sheet). It’s a few critical goals for Zack and Patrick to focus during this semester:

In Senior year, my only goal consisted of finding platforms that would provide optimal opportunities to convince colleges they need me at their schools. To reach my goal, I took the ACT fives times, constantly checked my GPA average, and volunteered frequently. None of this, however, compares to the biggest step I accomplished while working towards my goal: Completing Composition 1. When I signed up for my first college class, I imagined a scene similar to that of a movie with a huge room containing over one hundred college students brainlessly jotting down notes from a professor's PowerPoint. I did not expect the class to look similar to an average high school classroom. However looks can be deceiving, and upon my journey into a transition between a high school experience to a college one, I found the level of difficulty to increase tenfold. Everything needed more effort, more time, and more evaluation. What I thought I knew about writing was flipped upside down and rearranged. Composition I taught me more than I thought I would learn in the class. The course taught me how to use the writing process to improve my writing and utilize various grammatical sentence structures, as well as produce impressive summaries over any college reading thrown my way.

When I was four years old, in the dining room of the house in Geneva my family was renting, I unleashed one of my historic temper tantrums. “Mom, no one talks in your dumb language!” I said, vowing to never speak it again. While my mother was upset I was insulting her native tongue, German, she understood my mindset. My experience growing up in different places meant my perception of the world wasn’t reflective of my ethnic background; while we travelled to Germany every year for the holidays, we had never lived there. At this point in my life, I treasure the fact that I grew up in a bilingual household with parents who were passionate about language, but my journey to this point has been a strange one.

On December 12th, 2014, we were in church listening to the pastor preach about helping others. After church, we talked to the pastor about taking up for the homeless people in Anderson County. Instead of having a church that night the whole church came with us to give them the stuff. I like that I help the homeless people. One of the people that we help was crying like a baby because she was so happy to see us.The little thing we did make them happy. They look like they were going to cry. The homeless were delighted to see the stuff we gave them. I could hear the sound of happiness in the room because they were laughing. The room was as happy as a child with its mother.

In our lives, many events impact us, but, everyone has one situation that is most important to them. One of the most influential events in my life would be when I joined the East Ascensions Advanced Chorus. I enjoyed practicing and performing in class, concerts, musicals and other events, but I enjoyed being with my choir members more. Joining the choir had such an impact on me because I eventually stepped out my comfort zone for the first time, I no longer felt like I did not fit in and gained the self-confidence I always wanted.

I was 12 years old when I started to play volleyball. I can remember going to the gym for the first time bounces echoing off the walls for the balls being played. Before this, I was a competitive cheerleader for 4 years and had made it to the highest level possible. Hearing the crowd roaring wit =h every hit trick was what I lived for. My friend from my neighborhood finally connived me to try out volleyball and go to a camp. When I got there I remember always doing cheer moves on the volleyball court. In one drill we had to throw the ball across the room “bang bang” went the ball as I hit the back wall every time. The coaches were so impressed and immediately started talking off my parent's ear after the camp.

As Rocky Balboa once said, " it's not about how hard you hit; it's about how hard you can get hit, keep moving forward. It's how much you can take, and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done." This man believed that nothing is going to hit you as hard as life. Which means life will hit you pretty hard and it's all about taking it and keep moving forward. This quote has guided my life, there has been times where something has happened in which it brought me down but after a short while I have always recovered, got back on my feet, and moved on in my life.

As I have gotten older, my mom has not been as physical with me like she was when I was younger, but she still shows her emotions to me. She is happy one minute and then the next she is very angry and blames everything on me. I have even tried talking to her about how she is and who she is and every time I do, she gets physical and kicks me out of the house. I have gotten to where I do not care anymore and I do not talk to her. I try to have good days with her, but I know if I say anything I will ruin our day and she will be angry. I am very grateful that my mom is not physical with me like she used to be; that has helped me grow as a person. I still feel like am trying to find who I am. I am 21 years old, and this fall will be one of the first times that I leave my family and I will not be with them every day. A year ago, I moved to North Carolina. I had a job and a place to stay and my relationship with my mom was so much better then when we are together. I wish this was not the case, but it is. I am struggling right now with her because we are at the point where we need a break from each other, but there is nowhere for me to go, so I am holding on until the fall.