The Summer Of My Senior 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.

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.

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 we arrived after lunch, I was fueled on a pack of Mentos and a Poptart. I felt invincible and ready to take on the world. Unfortunately, when we entered the lab my mood slightly wavered when the smell made my stomach turn. However, simply deciding that positive thoughts attract positive outcomes, I pushed any doubts of the trip not being as great as I thought it would be out of my head. Once I let go of my worries I was having a great time. We were beginning to look at the chordae tendinae of the heart when my vision began to become black around the edges. Even so, I had no time to ponder this as I was so focused on the cadaver and maintaining my positivity.

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

The people, our surroundings, and our memories are what make the years of high school go by at the blink of an eye. Freshmen year, scared of all teachers, classes, and new people. Sophomore year is a breeze because you finally understand the bell schedules, and you’re aware of the teacher’s expectations. Junior year, the stress hits you all at once. You’ve got the ACT, EOCs, and many other tests that are a major part of your future education.

The time came when I was sitting in my guidance counselors office my sophomore year of high school. The pressure was on, I had to decide what classes to take to help me not only prepare for the ACT but that would impact my future. With the support of teachers and counselors I was able to choose and pick out difficult and challenging classes that would help me excel in the future. The list grew long, I signed up not only for my junior year classes but I also planned out my senior year schedule as well. My counselor took the time to explain to me the honors classes that were weighted, helping my GPA, and were dual credit as well. I signed up for several of the dual credit courses and weighted such as Composition 2, American Lit 1, AP U.S. History,

In my Freshman and Sophomore year of high school, I was not really involved in extracurricular activities. I did some community service hours and I joined a club. In my Junior year of high school, I started to get more involved in school activities. Such as football and soccer games. And in all honesty, I can say that Junior year has been my favorite year so far.

I held my knees to my chest and rolled from side to side in pain. I tried hard holding back the tears, as they asked me questions. Next, the paramedics took me right into the ER and the doctors looked at me, and I felt useless. In the distance, a doctor rushed in and push the red button. Then, I couldn't hear anybody else in the room, all I can do is see what was happening. Shockingly, they came at me with tubes and started shoving them in my throat, I've never felt more pain in my life. Last thing

Back in the surgery room, I sit in the chair, the nurse starts putting the I.V and doctor puts it in my arm. He says “wow got the needle in first try today, the other two patients I had to try more than one. Your veins just pop and show up well.” The nurse then puts a mask over my nose, as if it were laughing gas, but not. I begin to tear up, she thinks i'm crying, but I’m not it’s just the air in the mask blowing in my eyes causing them to water. I become sleepy and fall asleep, but not knocked out because when the doctor starts pulling on my teeth I wake up, and he’s says “nope she’s not out yet.”

During my stay I just had to keep a positive attitude. I never knew when I would return to the US but I needed to keep in mind that gradually but eventually everything will turn out fine. I've learned how to adapt to change and in the end I actually liked it there. I've made so many friends and I was having a lot of fun sometimes we would have observe waterfalls and beautiful nature. Other times we would go to my cousin's house and ride horses or play soccer. We would also attend traditional festivals and shop at the market. Time has passed by so fast and after 8 years have finally returned to the

As the oldest of the three daughter I was left to take over the house responsibility, due to my mom started working most time in order to keep provide us. Starting my first year in middle school, was already complicated enough not knowing anybody, getting lost, and having to adjust to the new environment around me. And it became more complicated after my dad was sent away from our family. Since we had recently moved to another town. We were still unfamiliar with the city itself and had no family that could help us out. Having left in charge of my two little sister while my mom was at work, I was left to clean, wash and sometimes cook if my mother had not left anything ready the night before. Had to make sure their homework was done and were

Freshman year. They say highschool is supposed to be the best 4 years of your life. I dont understand because i know in my heart thats a lie. All other friends went to diffrent schools so when i got to Fairfield high i didnt know anyone except one person whose name is Erin Randall. The lunch is 50 cents more than my old middle school whicjh is ridiculous;its like buying expensive gas daily. The first day wasnt as bad as people exaggerate in the tv shows and movies. I got lost on my way to 6th period because my english class was tucked away in the corner but this lovely woman helped me find my classroom. I guess she noticed my nonexsistent missing posters to find my english class or saw me akwardly wandering around it seemed fair to help me.

I feel cold, but sure, hands pat my shoulders and a kind voice asking if I needed to go to the nurse. I felt myself nod numbly and Ms. Petosa escorted me to the clinic. I sat down on the edge of the clinic bed and started shivering. This is where the unstoppable sweating and uncontrollable tremors started. The nurse checked my temperature and felt my pulse. She asked me what happened but I just kept repeating what I wanted.