Reflection Paper

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.

Process recordings have been very helpful in allowing me to see my strengths and areas that need improvement. It allows for me to check if I am using my competencies correctly and applying all the skills I have been thought. They also allow for feedback from my field supervisor so that I ensure the best services for my clients. I gain a better understanding of what I need to change about my approach and how to develop proper treatment goals with my clients. I get to put the knowledge I gained in all my classes to help a better understanding of the role of a social worker.

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.

I thought I knew pain; I wrong. True pain floods the encompasses a person. The anguish overwhelms every aspect of their lives. I first saw true pain in the eyes of poverty. During my seventh grade year, I had the opportunity to go on my first mission trip. The young, naive version of myself who flew into Haiti never returned, but was replaced with a new, wiser rendition who is determined to change the world.

When I enrolled in English 330, Writing in Education, I was apprehensive. Over the years, proofreading has been one of my strengths which may be a great attribute, but the challenging part has already been accomplished, writing the paper. So, although I absolutely love to research and write about my findings, I have always found it to be a struggle writing essays. The words seem to come easy in my head, but when the time came to write or type those words into sentences was the most difficult. Even though I have endured difficulties and challenges this semester, I have given 100% into each assignment. The discussions, blogs, letters, emails and assorted categories of papers completed, they have all proven to me that, no matter how good you felt you did, there is definitely room for improvement. There is always room for improvement, whether the task is a school assignment or work done on daily basis for over twenty-five years. My writing skills, my thought process and analytical skills have all improved in the last eight weeks.

It is easy to underestimate how much effort is required to complete a goal. A common struggle for college students in particular is finding a perfect balance between giving too much effort and too little. Time management is critical and giving too much effort wastes precious time while giving too little results in a poor grade. I have personally found that when it comes to achieving goals either academic or personal, you can never give too much effort. In fact, the amount of effort you put into your work not only determines whether or not you reach your goal, but also defines you as a person. Knowing this fact, I took steps this semester to ensure that I achieved my goal of straight A’s, not just for the class but for the assignments as well.

Although I have a lot more to figure out about myself, I have learned a lot about myself and the people of America while taking this course thus far. I have been able to, make a lot of connections between myself and the topics we have discussed in class and making sense of things that have happened to me throughout my life. I recall discussing issues such as colorism and white privilege, love, the treatment of blacks in America, the meaning of “African American” and black education plus a lot more during this course.

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:

Spanning 169 million square miles, the Earth is composed of countless regions, all of them incredibly different from another. This is especially true of the two places I have been able to call my home: Houston, Texas and Carmel Valley, California. I lived in Houston for twelve years, and while I found myself complaining daily about local characteristics such as weather, traffic, or school, I never knew how taxing it would be to make the transition across the country, from an urban-conglomerate hotspot to a quaint, nature-centered community. I found most of my hardship in being suddenly dropped into a public school, something I had only had nightmares of, as the public schools in Houston are of some of the worst in America, and I was accustomed to attending a Jewish private school for the first twelve years of my life. Every day seemed to drag onward a continuous eternity of loneliness. But if it were not for Mr. Stadille, the Carmel Middle School Drama teacher, I would not have much of a life to look forward to. Every day as our connection grew, I saw how impactful he is as a teacher, a member of the community, and as a friend.

As I began to reflect back upon my life and the incidents that have turned me into the writer I am today, I smiled as I began to remember some of my earliest childhood memories. Shortly after, my entire class was erupting with laughter as we shared stories about each other from our youth. The reminiscing of what has turned us into the writers we are today opened up the opportunity for all of us to share our memories and laugh about our elementary days. Through the reflecting I shared a very notorious memory from kindergarten involving our teacher. As I spoke about the memory I realized that it was the memory that has influenced me the most as a writer.

When I first began this English course, I did not know what to expect, all I really knew was I would be writing essays and papers which I don't particularly enjoy. I was not as confident in my writing abilities but after the first class period had ended, I decided that my goal for the semester would be producing writing that was clear and more effective. The Eclipse of 2017 pushed the first class back, but I still had an assignment to write about the Eclipse. I don’t think I have ever been so nervous when turning something in because I wanted to make a good first impression on my professor. I immediately relaxed when she said we did not have to read our essays out loud but instead explained what freewriting is.

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 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.

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.