Sixth Grade Narrative

I remember the first day of Kindergarden very clearly; I walked into a facility covered with white walls, white tiling, and white children, but I looked a little different from the other children. I was the only Chinese American male in a predominantly white schooling created me to become an easy target for other children. Persecution, stereotypes, and identity was placed on me each day, and I resorted to my parents for comfort. I would cry into my mother’s arm and ask her “how do I make my eyes bigger?” or “Can you just buy me some blue eyes?”. My mother would cry along with me, but it wasn’t until after multiple attempts of begging that I understood the burden and pain I was putting on her heart, and I stopped asking. Each day when I was asked how my day went, I would lie and tell her how “amazing” it was, but I was truly hurting inside. This started my

The fourth grade was a very traumatic year for me. My only sister went to middle school, my mom who always was at home across the street from school got a job, and I didn’t know one person in my class. For the first time in my life I was on my own and I was frightened even by the idea of it. During that year my grades dropped and I wasn’t social with my classmates. I started to fail in my favorite class, math. The work became pointless to me and I started to neglect my work. One day, after I failed another one of those math tests, my teacher asked to talk to me after class. Due to the already annoying grade I had received, my teacher punished me with a detention. Confusion and frustration flooded my body and I just wanted to give up. But,

I remember the first day I walked into my kindergarten class, I clenched my mother’s hand with all my might to prevent her from letting go. The kids around me, whom I supposed were my classmates, had long let go of their mother’s had and were playing together, and even as a five year old, at that point I felt like an outsider. I pleaded my mom to not leave but my attempts failed as I found myself alone yet surrounded by complete strangers. As I stood in the center of the room while pushing back my tears and eyeing my mother make her way out the door, I heard the teacher call my name. I timidly walked towards the spot on the yellow carpet she was signaling at for me to sit on. I heard Mrs. Ross’s soothing voice but no matter how much I concentrated

On the first day of the second year of fifth grade. It was horrible everyone new people from when they were in fourth grade . I felt all alone in a corner. I knew no one ,then the teacher comes up . She said " Hi I will be your teacher this year". I said " Hi I will be one of your students this year".

Growing up I didn't have a lot of time to read, I did not grow up in a stable environment for children to thrive. When I was in the third grade my life would take a drastic turn into a downward direction. My mother whom I loved so much changed drastically, started locking us out of the house. Doing any type of homework was impossible to accomplish when you are stranded outside. Later that year my parents got a divorce. There was constant turmoil; my mother was now living with a man that would later become my stepfather. Their relationship was very toxic; at first my stepfather seemed charming, we traveled to places we have never been to before. After a couple of years, things changed, they couldn't manage their finances and we were constantly

3rd grade was when I started being bullied. Until the age of 11, I was what you would call overweight. I always ate more than I should have, and well, I didn’t stop. It never used to be that way, and I don’t really know what changed. The first half of my childhood was what I would consider great back then. I was your typical sweet and spoiled girly-girl. I wore dresses and had curly platinum blond hair, with bangs across my forehead. Back when I was that young, I was always energetic, what little kid isn’t? I was always running around and taking walks with my grandma, but that all ended when she died back in 2010. After that, I never wore dresses, I even started dying my hair, I became lazier, and that’s what led up to me

When my mom would send me off to school, nobody ever liked the new guy. I felt so scared, and awkward.I was bullied because of the color of my skin. I tended to be a little darker not only because of my roots but because long hard hours working with my dad after school. Resulted of me having sun burns. I was called every name in the book,and it was tough for me. Having to go to school and get treated like an old rag was already enough to what I would come home everyday with. I’d just get home and right away start working with my dad just to start giving us some income. I had to get used to this type of work everyday for the rest of my life. I wasn't so sure even if I even wanted to keep going to school. I mean I was already not caring for school and working with my dad after school. I wanted to drop out. To leave everything behind. I didn't need to keep going. I was a nobody. Nobody wanted me. My classmates told me so many times. I started to believe

Freshman year at Renaissance High School, I was hanging out with the wrong crowd. I was skipping class and didn’t do classwork the handful of times I was in class. Time passed and before I knew it, it was my junior year in high school and while you are supposed to have 33 credits I only had 9 credits and 1 regent exam. When I was 16, I became depressed because I was raped. Throughout the time I spent in therapy, I was considering dropping out of high school. I thought it was too late for me to catch up with the credits I was missing. I felt as if my life had spun out of control and I couldn’t take control again. I thought I wouldn’t be anything besides a Bronx girl from the ghetto who dropped out of school. One night I was talking to an old

It was a bright hot summer day here in Little Pine First Nation, where the events took place. The chief and councillor’s had organized a fun filled day with family and friends spending it with one another. As the hot dreadful heat of the day goes by slowly the community is together as one enjoying the music blasted. The bass was pounding on my concession booth the good old country music that everyone likes. Kids are screaming, parents are cheering, cars and trucks are ramming, horses are stomping as they too are getting excited for the big day to start.

It's the last day of 5th grade. Today we’ll find out who our new teacher would be next year, and then it happened! Our teacher handed out our report cards and supply list and right on the bottom in big, bold letters, said the name. It was our 6th grade teacher, Mr. Persampire.

The school was very far away, inside this old neighborhood, and was on the other side of Columbia; while we were passing the neighborhood, I had this eerie feeling and I didn’t like it, I knew from there this isn’t going to be a fun experience. My sister, my mom, and I got inside the school and were settled in from there; my 5th grade teacher name was Karen Bowling and she was the sweetest and kindest teacher, if it wasn’t for her I probably wouldn’t get comfortable with the new school and new environment that quickly. I made a few friends but still was shy and reserved, but I made a best friend that year her name was Kathryn Hamm. She had the same thinking like I did, she was funny, and we got attached quickly but by mid year things changed. I suddenly gained a lot of weight; I started looking very healthy, I had hair on my face,

I loved school when we would learn something because I was good at that and I was able to do that when I felt like I was terrible at everything. Nothing would change from fourth grade to fifth grade I still loved school and really had no friends. In fifth grade the news I wanted so badly wouldn’t turn out the way I wanted. The AVM had shrunk but it wasn't gone and one more dose of the radio static surgery should do the trick. I was also switching schools and school districts, I asked my doctor if we could do it in summer so I wouldn’t miss school. I was beyond scared, I always keep a brave face on because if I don't show fear it doesn't get to me. I couldn't help it, the last time this was done it went bad, I woke up throwing up I had giant marks on my forehead. I didn't want to be made fun of at this new school. I turned out fine I had basically no marks I woke up feeling fine. I started middle school and middle school was honestly the years I felt lost and at the same time I had the friends I so badly wanted. Middle school was tough for me because instead of being able to take an extra class instead of doing

Middle school finally hit full force and it was horrible. I was still smart, but mentally I was screwed up. I was suicidal and was a cutter. My mom didn’t and never will know the hell I went through. Every night was a battle between me and my thoughts. I was called ugly, fat and loser and that’s how I felt. I almost committed suicide ten times, but my thoughts always went to my mom and how she would be left alone or how I always wanted to go to college and be successful. School continued I became really smart. I was shy and kept to myself. I joined the Tennis team and became really good and ended up being first doubles in eighth grade. I remember being in band class and I was the only Latino kid that took pride in who they were. I listened

7th grade was the year I woke up. My mom called me into her bedroom late one afternoon and was still sitting on her bed, wearing her pajamas. The bright and cheerful sunshine that lit up the room gave a false ambiance of the tension that clouded the air. I already knew what she was going to say, but I did not want to believe it as the truth. I had noticed that my mom and dad's relationship with one another was growing apart just by the way they acted around each other. The conversations between them became shorter and their affection for one another began to fade. My dad spent his nights falling asleep watching TV on the couch, while my mom slowly disappeared back into her bedroom, alone. This had been happening for a while now, so I do not know why I was even surprised when my mom said to me that, “Your dad and I are getting a divorce”. I should have seen it coming. The clues were all in front of me, but I was too afraid to put them together. I was scared because, for the first time in my life, the image of my "perfect" family was crumbling before me. I knew inside that my family was falling apart, but I was desperately holding onto the fibers that I thought were keeping us together. It is hard to believe that one encounter can change the course of one's life forever. In this instance, I was awoken from the dream that I had been living in for so long.

My eighth-grade year was when my life changed. I had good grades and had a future of going to a school of arts in the city that I live. I was living with my dad in the states. Meanwhile, my mom was living in the Dominican Republic. My parents had gone their way in life. My mother had her husband in the Dominican Republic and my dad had his wife in the states. Finishing my eighth-grade year my stepmom told my father that she did not want me in the house. My father said that I couldn't be in the house because there was no nobody to take care my brother and I. My only option was to go back to the Dominican Republic where my mother was.