Personal Narrative-Helpful Or Harmful?

We had been at the hotel for about thirty minutes when we got the call from the lobby that they had arrived and were on their way up the elevator. The three of us scrambled in excitement waiting to hear a knock at the door. Finally there is a knock at the door and my dad rushes to the door and opens it. We see a woman, his foster mother, holding a baby boy, at the door. She carried him in and laid him on the bed. We all walked over and admired the baby. I was the first one to sit down and hold my new baby brother.

A music box like sound twinkled with a bright tune throughout the hospital. Its tune was heard from the quiet and calm patient rooms, through the long white hallways, and to the comfortable hospital lobby where I stood waiting. I wonder what that sound was? Well, who cares? I’ve got other things to worry about. It was my first day of volunteering at the Fountain Valley Regional Hospital. The first tasks I was assigned were to greet, to help, and to escort visitors to their destination. My shaky hands were clasped together in an attempt to stay calm. Jeez I hope I don’t get lost while escorting a visitor.

I awoke with the sound of beeps in the distance. My eyes fluttered, eyelashes blocking my small spot of a view. In the corner, I could see my mom, her head in her hands, shaking slowly from tears. I gradually moved my head to the left. The room was bright, with white floors and bleached walls. There were multiple carts full of medical supplies right next to me. While scanning the room, I could hear my mother gasp and run out of the door. Moments later, a tall lanky guy walked into in the room. He was wearing scrubs with little stars and a light blue stethoscope was dangling from

When we finally reached the hospital I my feet felt like bricks and I slowly shuffled towards the doors, dreading what I knew lay inside. I pushed open the plexiglass door and laid down in the waiting room while my parents asked the front desk for directions. The lady at the desk pointed down a long hallway and said room 257, my parents waved at me to follow. Slowly, I picked myself up and started towards Issac’s room. I don’t know if it was the flickering incandescent lighting or my imagination, but the hallway seemed to get darker the further we

It was July 6, 2015, I woke up at 4:45 a.m it was time to get ready and go to the hospital. I was having my baby boy today! I needed to be at the hospital between 5 and 5:30 to be induced. I was so nervous, but I had carried my baby boy for 9 months and I was ready to finally hold him.

I quickly swallowed my homemade authentic Indian food leftovers and gulped down my chocolate milk. Looking down at my watch that read 11:28am, I knew that I only had two minutes until my most favorite part of the day: recess. This particular day in 5th grade, I had run a lap around the playground before getting the rest of recess to myself. As I started walking for my warmup, another student ran up and said, “My parents said that your people caused 9/11.” Completely caught off guard, I held back the tears in my eyes and tried to shake off his comment. I had never encountered something like this.

I went into the hospital room with my mother, got undressed, and changed into a hospital gown. A woman came into the room to put an IV into my arm, then I turned on the Food Network on the hospital TV. A few doctors came into the room, asking for my name, birthdate, and other questions for identification purposes. Later, my two aunts came into the room. A few minutes later, my surgeon walked in as well to tell me that she’d come back in about twenty minutes to wheel me away to the operating table. This made it even more surreal and made me even more anxious.

I went to the appointment on that Monday, and being a bigger hospital, I was even more terrified. We checked in, and luckily found a spot to sit in one of the waiting room. The room wasn’t filled with sadness or negativity, it was somehow filled with laughter. There were many children, therefore some of the parents had brought coloring book for them. I just wanted to know what these children were at the hospital for. They seemed to be the most charming children ever, and I just couldn’t understand why whatever they're going through was happening to them. My parents had left to buy coffee,

The bright lights illuminated the hallways throughout; making no difference in the time of day. Continuous beeping sound echoing down the hall. It seemed surreal, obscure at first but clarified later on. While my younger sister simply made a game of it, I interpreted the situation differently. The hospital was something I knew absolutely nothing about, but I was willing to learn its nooks and crannies.

Imagine living a life where majority of your family thinks you’re dead but the government knows you’re alive and is trying to hunt you down. This is exactly how Daniel, known as Day, lives his life in the book Legend, published in 2011 by __________. Throughout this 352 page science fiction book you’re taken on an adventure between the perspectives of two seemingly different people. The author, Mary Lou, writes of June who’s a fifteen year old girl born into wealth and of Day, also fifteen, who comes from the poor sectors. This dystopian novel is full of unexpected turns keeping the reader engaged and never wanting to put the book down.

So then I go, and find Mrs. Price and tell her, ¨The red sweater wasn't mine. I knew adults weren't right all the time.¨ So I yell at the top of my lungs to Mrs. Price, ¨YOU BELIEVE ALL THE STUDENTS AND YOU ALWAYS YELL AT ME, I WISH YOU NEVER TEACHED HERE, I JUST WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE.” Then Mrs. Price tells me to go to the office. So I stomp my feet on the floor ,and go to the office. When I get into Mr. BobbyJoe’s office i talk to him and tell him what had happened. He says to me, “Now Rachel I know how you feel if I were you I would do the same thing. So what i want you to do is to go and tell Mrs. Price your sorry while I go and call your parents then come back.” So I go back to the class room and tell Mrs. Price that I was

She looked at me, I knew their was no turning back it was time. I had been waiting for this day since June 10,2015. This last month had been hell for me. I was finally going to meet my daughter. We arrived to the hospital and checked in. I waited in the waiting area for about 40 minutes until I was finally taken to the back. I was given a blue patient gown to change into; I change in to it and sat on the bed and just waited. My mother was there sitting by my side, I was so nervous I just wanted to get up and go back home.

I’m interested in the We Day conference is all about how our generation can be active citizens and make a difference in the world today and forever. I want to be a part of this movement, changing the world one act at a time. I think everyone can change the world even at our age, and that’s what We Day is about.

September 26...picture day. Everyone in Hoofer Middle School was dressed up for their picture...the picture that would be in the yearbook forever.

There are good days and bad days but sometimes bad more than good. When we focus on the bad days that takes away the positive things in life. I have the world's best parents all they want to see me do is succeed but I have let them down. It makes me mad when I let my parents down because I know I could do better but I do not. When I was younger I was depressed and was not happy. My mom tried so many different counselors and nothing ever worked. No one could change me I had to change myself.