Educational years

The grade school years were significant years in my life. I had oodles of fun, learned how to read and write, made new friends along the way, and developed new skills I enjoyed. The first day of grade school was an exciting day for me. I could not wait to go to the ¨big kid school¨ and make new friends. A few days earlier, I received news that my Kindergarten teacher was Mrs. Spencer, the same teacher my brother, sister, and older neighbor had the opportunity to have. I was extremely excited to show

home later that day because of the continuous jokes being made at her expense. After that day, I made sure no one else uttered another reprehensible word to her. Every time someone said something cruel, I was sure to speak up. Over the next couple years, I lost multiple

Carmen. About five years ago, can’t believe it’s been so long. I moved to Lewis Central just the year before and I didn’t really have very many friends. I remember the first time I met them, it was Carmen’s first year here but Paige had been there for awhile. We all had band together Carmen played the clarinet, I played the flute and Paige played the trumpet. It was like we instantly found each other even though we didn’t know each other. We’ve been best friends ever since that year. It was the very

never understand the fact that she chose a career in teaching, but disliked children and lacked the patience to deal with them. I remember her class involving her yelling at the class and giving assignments I did not understand. Although I was five years old at the time, I remember her never taking the time to individually work with a student who was struggling with the material. In her class, either you understood it or you struggled until she taught the next topic. I constantly struggled because

there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It is going to be a good day, I thought to myself as I was getting in my grandma’s car to go to school. I was not exactly excited about school. I was really just excited and nervous because I was starting band this year. When I was in sixth grade and I started learning about the band I thought maybe I should give it a try, and I always wanted to follow my Uncle's footsteps because he started playing clarinet in middle school and went on to play in Tiger Band which

When i was 6 years old my whole life changed completely my life became a living nightmare. It all started when my older brother threw a birthday party. There my mom met this guy named Carlos. He started off as a nice guy he would buy us anything we wanted. When i met him i remember thanking god for blessing me with such a good dad not knowing i had let the devil in. They had a relationship for 2 years before he wanted to have a family already. He became my mom’s lover and was around for long. Him

My Writing Journey Writing takes time and patience to succeed at doing it. I just think about how long the average American learns how to write. For instance, whenever I first started to write I was in first grade. Fast forward 15 years and I am still trying to perfect my writing. That is not to say I have not made great leaps and bounds throughout my journey, but there is still work to be done. Coming out of high school and going into college is like being thrown back into first grade. No more

Throughout my 14 years of life, I have always been a musical child. At a very early age, I was exposed to all different genres and artists, from Gwen Stefani to AC/DC. I easily fell in love with music, enjoying it and learning it. Although I have always adored music and have been shy to express that to other people, in the past few years I have been more open to sharing my talent and my passion for it, with other people. (road map) When I started playing cello in fourth grade, I was very excited

Cultural identity is the belonging of an individual to a group. According to the iceberg model of culture, this group typically shares the same behaviors, beliefs, and values and thought patterns. As someone whose response to the question “where are you from?” sounds more like strained sounds than actual words, I have struggled tremendously with determining the cultural identities that construct my identity. I often feel more like a cultural chameleon than an individual possessing cultural identities

is Pawornwan, but I call her Bam. She only lets her friends and family call her Bam. she doesn’t let people who are not close to her call her Bam because she doesn’t know them and it’s awkward for her when they call her Bam. I met Bam my freshman year of high school, she was new to the school and was also a freshman. The first time I saw her was in our English class she did not speak much English, but when I would talk to her I would understand her by her movement of hands when she didn’t know a