The Summer Before My Junior Year

My eighth grade year of Middle school. I had many challenges, with making friends and subjects. But one challenge was mathematics.I knew my eighth grade year was most important when it came transferring into my high school years, yet I didn’t do anything to raise my grade in mathematics at that time. It wasn’t until two I had a very low grade in mathematics on my report card at that I realized I needed to do something about my low grade. So after that report in math, I really was determined to really bring that F up to at least a B or A. So I remember I started to go to after school tutoring to get help with my math subject. They placed me with a teacher named Ms.Alice. And she really helped me with my subject.

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

Losing a mother at the age of ten is not a thought one could imagine; however when faced with it, you have no other choice than to hold onto the memories that were left. The day my mother was killed, she had the opportunity, to call the entire family, to say goodbye. Sixteen years later, I can still remember those exact words of that phone call. While on the phone, I remember my mother saying that she loved me, and that I would probably not be seeing her for a while. At first this truly did not register in my mind, being that she always struggled to care for my sisters and myself; we often ended up staying with family members for an extended amount of time. I responded with “I love you too,” and, “Okay mom.” A few days later, a detective knocked at the door, and began to explain what had happened; she was found in a hotel room with everything stripped from her besides her boots. Everything in the room was wiped down, and all the sheets, pillows, and towels were removed. Her killer was never caught, and her death was ruled as an unidentifiable cause. Looking back now, that phone call made sense and I feel as if she was attempting to warn the family, yet no one caught on. Those little hints, of saying goodbye, could have possibly saved her life, still no one truly understood the meaning of the phone call. My father suffered from two strokes at one time; he was left paralyzed on his entire right side. My sister and I were advised that he would probably not pull through, and to

When junior year ended last summer, I felt like I knew exactly what was coming my way-- after all, I watched three different groups of my friends go through senior years of their own. It was finally my turn to experience senior year, something it seemed I had known about for years, and I felt like senior year would be easygoing and uneventful. Now, it has taken just a few short months to realize how incorrect I was. If senior year has taught me anything, it is that one never really knows what comes next for them, even if they have a good idea. The monumental highs, as well as the deepest of lows, have kept me on my toes throughout my senior year.

Freshman year, I imagined that year to be amazing. I wanted it to just have an awesome flow but did it? It did in the beginning then a bomb went off during the middle of the year and turned freshman year into a complete disaster. Freshman year was supposed to be about having a great start to the rest of your high school life before you enter the big bad world but other students just couldn't help themselves but to create that bomb during the middle of my freshman year.

My memories are blurry. They are fragments of disjointed moments, without a linear narrative. I remember reading. It was in Mrs. Davidson first grade class. My reading proficiency skills were very poor, the English language still thick and unnatural on my tongue. While some of the other students took a Gifted class, I had to take a remedial course—English Learners (EL)— just so that I could hold onto the edge. I remember reading. I had a hard copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar in my little hands, reciting only the first page of the book from memory. The classroom was dark; the stream of sunlight filtering through the windows served as our only illumination. The rest of the words on the book looked like a mess of jumbled letters. I couldn’t make out anything other than the words “the” and “and.” I remember enthusiastically pointing out my “fluency” to my teacher, seemingly applauding my menial abilities: “The catpater at droo!” (The caterpillar ate through). In the first-grade, my free time was spread sporadically between watching The Little Mermaid, catching ugly black crickets and pretending that I was Sailor Moon, guardian of the galaxy. In the first grade, I was not at all concerned with words, literacy and books. In the first grade, I did not know the power that words hold. I did not know that books would change my life.

Towards the end of my senior year of high school, I was preparing for the next chapter of my life. I would be attending UC Davis in the summer for a four weeklong orientation program, specifically for first generation college students. This was the first time I would be leaving home by myself to a different country and it was the first time in over eight years that I would be exposed to the American culture. I did not have any roots in any American city nor did I have a so-called “home state.” However, if there was one thing for sure, it was that Germany was my home and it has been for the majority of my life. In this paper, I will be discussing how the following topics in sociology: culture, socialization, and identity are related to my move from Germany to California as well as how I felt during the entire situation.

When going into my second semester of senior year knowing I had enrolled to take Freshman Composition, I was nervous. However, despite all the negative feedback I had received, I challenged myself to do my best and try my hardest to never give up or slack off. That was unsurprisingly a challenge for me, but with a little motivation of getting the class out of the way this year instead of having to take it next year got me through the semester.

When I got my family was around our wooden table. My dad on his soft voice said “ I don’t think your grandpa will go through one more night, you need to call him” he cried. I felt like I couldn’t do it, felt so week and a huge hole in my stomach, something I’ve never felt before, I grabbed the phone and when I was about to call, the phone ringed, I passed the phone to my dad, It was my aunt sobbing and barely able to speak, then she said “ he passed away, I’m sorry honey” I couldn’t believe it I didn’t even had the chance to say

Your freshman year will be exciting, but it can also be intimidating. It is the start of four long years of high school, some of the most important years of your life. There are a lot of important things to do your freshman year, many of which I didn't start until much later. So here is some advice that will help you survive your freshman year, and prepare you for the rest of high school.

I had just finished my basketball practice. I was feeling ecstatic because I was making baskets left and right like Kobe Bryant. My coach even told me that he has never seen me play like that before. Then I strutted outside and found my father parked outside the school in his large, brown pick-up truck. I hopped inside and turned my seat heater to high because it was frigid, winter weather outside. My dad made some casual small talk, then he gave me the news. He stated in a low, dull voice, “Hey Jack, grandma past away today.”

My feelings toward certain grades differ depending on my teachers, courses, and other internal and external factors. I think my favorite grade so far has been freshman year, even though my mood wasn’t always so great. I had great teachers and fun classes. The year was overall pretty good, especially compared to the year before that. My eighth grade year has been my least favorite grade. I had pretty okay teachers, good friends, and I wasn’t getting bullied, so it might seem confusing as to why I disliked it so much. Starting in sixth or seventh grade, my motivation severely declined and my head was always filled with negative thoughts. My bad habits only grew worse and snowballed my last year of middle school. Everything was so overwhelming

During high school, I participated in a multitude of activities of different types each year. I joined my local YHEC, Youth Hunters Education Challenge, team the spring before my Freshmen year where I learned skills not only involving firearms and archery, but also orienteering, wildlife identification, and safety. Also, I was enrolled in the school’s choir for my first three years and the band for all four years. My Freshmen year was the last year I participated in Tae Kwon Do, although I was involved in it for three years prior. Discipline, respect, and the importance of physical health were emphasized in class and these years of practice and routine was rewarded when I received my black belt. However, as I became involved in high school,

In my senior year at Claremore High School I decided that it would be a good idea to skip school. I skipped school like every day. Everyone knew it but no one could ever catch me. This one time one if my teachers was not there that day, so my friends and I did our normal routine. One of us asked to go to the lab and that person would get a not from the teacher in the lab so we could all go to the “lab” to work on homework. So after we got our note we were supposed to check in with the lab teacher and then we could leave. This time I just left and did not go check I with the teacher I just left. Well then a letter came for me in my classroom and the substitute teacher told the TA that I was in the lab. Then the TA went to look for me in the lab and I was not there. Then the teacher in the lab called me and said I needed to come back to the school because I was going to be I trouble. So I left the gym and headed back to the school. When I got to the school the principle told me she had to give me in-house. I had never been in trouble in the years of my school and my last year, last semester I received in-house. The rules in in house at Claremore High School are no phones, no talking, no walking around, and no looking around. These rules took away a few different parts of my freedom. It took away my freedom to speak, my freedom of privacy, my freedom to walk, and my freedom to look around. This constraint was imposed on me by a man sitting next to me for eight hours total, he

My Senior year of high school was one of the best years of my life by far. I experienced so much throughout the year and grew so much as a person, experiencing new things and learning lessons along the way. I had a lot of hard times followed by some of the best times which introduced me to some people that have changed my life in many ways. I am thankful for everyone and everything that happened to me Senior year because it has made me who I am today.