Rhetorical Narrative Essay: Phoenix High School

Back in middle school around the 6th grade I was a bitter person. Having been hurt from past and present situations I was not keen on forming relationships with other people. I always kept to myself, never causing any trouble and sure to keep far from it by turning the other cheek. Then one day the student occupying the seat beside me mistakenly took my school pack believing it to be his own. I had only become aware of the mistake after he had begun leaving out the classroom’s door. Before he was able to reach the schools exit i managed to catch up to him; informing him of the mistake he made. With that brief encounter a small friendship began. Everyday afterwards the same student would spark a conversation with me before classes began. He

When one enrolls into an honors or advanced English class, there are many worries that come to mind. These worries create thoughts such as ‘Am I a good writer?’, ‘Will I pass?’, or ‘How do I even start a paper?’. My teachers never specifically taught me to write. My teacher that I had for 9th grade English and my 10th grade honors English class always gave good grades. Once I got into my first AP English class, I felt as though my writing was inferior. In my distress, I went to the internet and I found that you do not have to be gifted in academic writing to get good grades on your essays, I found that organization is the key to writing a powerful essay.

Sixty years ago in a small town in rural Minnesota, there lived a rowdy young man by the name of Jack Smith. He had a very obsolete personality and could easily instigate a fight with anyone he met. By the age of seventeen, Jack had already been expelled from high school due to a myriad of reasons that included numerous fights. However, the final straw was when he hit a teacher in a fit of rage after Mr. Robencraw insulted his intelligence for failing yet another quiz due to his extreme procrastination. For years he wandered around Minnesota, a vagabond with no purpose in life. But that was until he met the legendary boxing trainer Rob Rammers , whose famous saying was scurry like a spider, sting like a scorpion. Meeting Mr. Rammers changed Jack's life completely. Under Mr. Rammers training Jack became a truly great boxer and soon, Rammers decided that it was time to take the world by storm. During his first fight, Jack was up against another powerful newcomer that was well documented and was the favorite for the fight. Jack was booed when e went into the ring, but he quickly quelled the crowd by delivering an instant knockout with his devastating right, and because of that right fist, he was thenceforth known as Bazooka Jack. His success did not

It was a Thursday evening when it all happened. Lady Titan Softball was at Tecumseh high school playing a conference game. Of course, this was my freshman year so varsity wasn’t exactly in my range. Winning the junior varsity game though, was just as important. We all knew this conference game was going to be a tough one, but we were willing to do anything to win.

When I first started thinking about college schools I never thought about going to MSU or Ole Miss. I wanted to go to the bigger universities, but I knew I wouldn’t do well if I went there my first year. My high school did not prepare me enough for University, and I hadn’t decided on a major either. I choose East Central Community College (ECCC) as the school I would go to for many reasons, and when I got here I knew I made the right choice.

At a school in Texas called Hickory Hills middle school in 1999.It was a normal day for Timothy John he was stealing a nerds lunch.

Here the author takes a moment to acknowledge a major event happening in sports. Max Schmeling, a german boxer was going to be fighting the undefeated african

I completed my floor routine with ease! It showcased my best event and I nailed it; however, bars really created the pressure. My coach for the event was Coach Alex, and the determination I felt to make him proud overwhelmed me. I loved all my coaches, but he stood out as someone very special. I knew I would miss his constant nagging at me. I approached the springboard, enveloped with chalk and trembling from head to toe. I hit the springboard with such power it jumped backwards. My hands felt like fire as I spun around the bars. My hands released the low bar and after an eternity, I felt the bar again, but by that time I grasped onto the high bar. Before I knew it, I had finished my last bar routine with a successful

Going to the twenty fifth annual Rivercrest high school class of twenty nineteen reunion, eagers, but nervous. I was excited to catch-up with everyone and see what they have made of themselves. Old friends and teachers I am ready to see. Nervous, because, you heard that some of the kids were living a goofy lifestyle. I even heard that one of the teachers went psycho.

You would think that at every school there is a rule that there is no bullying allowed. That was different at this school. At this school there were kids getting bullied left and right by this one kid Billy. Ridgeway Middle School did nothing to stop it

My arms shuddered and I began feeling like the titan Atlas carrying the weight of the world. I was so close to finishing my max rep, yet the weight felt too grand and the bar began to lower. Just then coach instructed my spotter to rack the weight; and as the words reached my ear I felt a wave of disappointment towards myself.

It began by having me attend every class the week of the test, writing a one thousand word essay, and taking a written exam the night before.The evening of Friday, around six o'clock, began the physical portion of the test by running ten laps around the Bryan Courthouse, totaling two miles, and ending that day with a ten minute horse stance. Lasting three and a half hours, everything else in between was purely physical and a "warmup" for the main event of testing on Saturday. We were questioned that Friday on why we were doing this and what for. My answer, unlike some, was to learn more so I could teach and help the ranks lower than me strive to become one of the black belts. We ended the night by having Sensei, Steven Franz, take us and our families out to dinner at Four Seasons across the street. I had very little to eat, as I was obviously fearing even more greatly the next painful day to

“CHONG, HONG!” The referee called and pointed at the two sides next to him, signalling us (red and blue) to come into the ring. I took a breath and shuffled into the ring. He stared me down and walked towards me, the referee telling us to take our stance. I put my headgear on and placed my right foot behind my left foot. I nodded my head, more to myself than the referee and he called us to begin.

My head lay flat on the floor. I sat dazed for just a few seconds, though it seemed like an eternity. My eyes fell back into focus, as did my mind. I realized what had just happened. I sprung up with a huge grin on my face and tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. I had broken the necessary boards to pass my test. I shook off the feeling of pain when I fell on the ground, all that mattered was that the training had been worth it. I was officially a Black Belt. At that very moment, I believed that my previous failure had no impact on my bright future.

Laying on a bench beneath a bar, I know I have prepared for the challenge that I am about to face. Feet grounded, shoulders pulled together, and chest high, I unrack the weight. My arms tremble slightly. The bar touches my chest and Phil commands “Up, Up, Up!” This will be a personal record, and I am ready. I strenuously, but confidently, push the bar into the air. This time the bar crashes down onto the rack not with failure, but with