Reflection Paper

When I first decided to expand my education, it had been so long since I had been to school, and I was very hesitant. I talked at length about my decision with my husband and with his encouragement, decided to enroll but still was not quite sure which degree program to enroll in. I knew that this was something that I had always wanted to do since I obtained my Associates Degree in Nursing, but I did not have the courage, nor did I want to give up the time with my family and children. I second guessed my abilities and my knowledge because it had been so long since I had been in college. Now that my children are about to graduate high school and

Throughout the course of this semester, I have continuously grown as a writer. Prior to taking this course, I had little experience or knowledge when it came to writing. I used to struggle with forming my thoughts into writing, let alone a paper. I was never confident with what I wrote. My writing had no greater purpose other than the assignment. My writing process included: writing my paper, proofreading it, and turning it in. Once the paper left my hands, it also left my mind. Throughout this course we worked with others, visited the writing lab, wrote critiques, and we were able to revise our papers. I believe that all of this is has caused me to grow greatly as a writer.

Just before the cafeteria closed, and other students had exited the room, he checked out trays with leftover food, like half-eaten sandwiches, apples, crackers, and chips. Then he puts them in his backpack and ate them later when he was alone. He did not realize it, but the cafeteria ladies did much more than wear hair nets and scold children about eating their meals. They were heroines and self-sacrificing because

As I look around the cafeteria the happy students of cherokee peacefully enjoy their only true break they have from the various stresses of school in their day. Suddenly the 5 minute bell runs through the halls at 10:56 completely and utterly shattering the false illusion of happiness that lunch has created. A intense panic erupts, countless students simultaneously start shoving the large remainder of their lunch down their throats. Smiles turn into tears as students who lab day it is must leave their friends, their food, and their time for only relaxation in between the times of 7.35 to 2:26. At the same a whole separate panic occurs. Students who have lab first half of lunch face the problem of trying to find their friends eat their lunch and somehow make it to their next class all within

It was a typical day for B lunch. I stood by my usual trash can and began to observe the behaviors of the students. One of my favorite tables to listen in on is a very nearby table full of high school seniors: Abby, the intelligent reader with common sense; Lainey, the tired one who complains a lot; Bill, the patriotic redneck wannabe who dabs too much; Michael Parsons, the flamboyant, optimistic flower-child; Karla, the loud overachiever who boasts way too much; and Caleb, the shy observer of the table who only talked occasionally.

Hearing the shouts of students excited for the lunch bell, I fought my way through the crowd to find my friends. In a small group, we walked towards the lunchroom. We soon sat ourselves down. The lunch room was filled with voices in the air. The grounds dirty with food thrown down and the tables. I mean, this was your typical school lunch. “AYE MARCUS! CATCH!” A boy had shouted from afar, I watched as the boy threw a granola bar at the kid, “Marcus.” Shaking my head, I diverted my eyes back to the conversation.

Before we went to lunch, I was so furious that I yelled at Mrs. Price, “How can you pretend like everything is okay?” The entire class just stared at me, and Mrs. Price said,”Rachel! We will eat lunch, then accompany the principal in her office!” I knew there was steam coming out of my ears by now, but I didn’t say a word. In the cafeteria, I ate my lunch silently in fear of what I might say.

As Ronnie's stomach started to growl he started to crave for a cake. Not again. So he went to the first floor and headed towards the cafeteria. In the cafeteria was a massive amount of students from different grade levels associating with each other about random topics. Ronnie quickly looked around to find where the nourishments were being served. He then saw a line and approached it observing how the students were receiving their food from

They placed down plates of sweets and drinks for parents and kids to enjoy down at the long, glass table. As I headed to the counter of food, people rushed through like animals, striving for hunger. Families from the littlest sibling to the seniors grabbed food like it was free clothes. There were too many people scrunched in one tiny hall. I waited a few minutes, trying to avoid the strangle among food. After what seemed like forever, I headed to the food table, only to see crumbs left from restaurant food and paper cups half torn. Therefore, I didn’t feel like eating any more, looking among the leftovers. So, I gathered around my mom, feeling the need of her comfort before the

    “Ok, who is going home for lunch?” I asked the class. Several hands shot up. Then I asked the remainder of the students to put their lunch on their desk if they’d brought it from home. I paced down the aisles of seats and stopped at Walter’s desk.

As I entered the Starbucks in the library I was hit with warm lights and the loud murmur of conversation. I passed the counter and the line of students awaiting their coffee, and sat down at a table. The chair was hard and the table was cold, so I rested my elbows on my laptop bag as I began to type. Students either studying or socializing surrounded me on all sides. To my left there were whiteboards on the wall, currently occupied by three students writing out equations. Behind me group of students sat at a bar and to their right was the Starbucks kitchen and counter. The noises that managed to break past the overpowering sound of talking came from that area. I heard the scooping of ice and coffee beans and the voices of the baristas as they

The Dining Hall at State University is bustling with kids in sweatshirts and pajama pants. The make-your-own Belgian waffle line is long and students are complaining about the lack of forks. Phrases like “I got wicked smashed last night,” and “I really need a cup of coffee” can be heard around the tables. It’s typical Sunday morning on campus.

Over the course of the semester, there has been numerous amount of areas where I believe I have improved in comparison to high school. What has helped me in my writing is the writing class and the in-class writing workshop. The writing class that is located in the Kremen education building has helped me with my writing greatly because in the writing center the person in charge teach us lenses and we apply those lenses to the writing, draft, or reading that someone brings in. The in-class writing workshop has helped me because other students get to read my writing. This is helpful because I get feedback from many students and they let me know what needs to be fixed. A new tool I have been using is They Say I Say. The book is very helpful because of the information and examples it provides such as the templates. I have been applying the templates into my essays and I have seen a significant difference.

I pulled myself through the hallway, stumbling almost every other step. Bodies constantly brushed against mine, so I made it a habit to constantly say excuse me to prevent altercations. Finally, I made it to the lunchroom only to be greeted by a lunch line stretching to the door. While watching, I tried to muscle through my stomach grumbles. Having “C” lunch was bad, but being forced to go through a prolonged wait in line everyday made it even worse. When I eventually got my food I looked down at my watch and saw I had eight minutes to scarf down my food and get to Pre-cal, an overpacked, frustrating class. Not much could ever get accomplished with all the students packed in the classroom like sardines. I sat and wondered if the administration ever understood the struggle we were going through. I wondered when they were going to do something.

“We sleep safely at night because rough men stand ready to visit violence on those who would harm us.” –Winston Churchill. I do remember my late grandfather narrating alluring anecdotes from his time in the Indian Air Force and a few of my late great grandfather’s heroics while he served in the British Army (1917-1946). I slowly started to develop a taste for war-time stories, military history as a whole which always intrigued me, possibly because of my family lineage. I am always curious to learn more about our past, about the mistakes made by our forefathers that however frivolous they may seem or sound but were enough to instigate a war.