2.07 Personal Narrative

I remember waking up that day and that feeling in my stomach, knowing what was about to happen. Growing up I knew about my father's sickness. My family, I recall, was always supportive. No one ever thinks about how one day, everyone you’re around for years, can just vanish. I cherished my friends as I was growing up. I lived there for a majority of my life, up until fourth grade. I remember sitting at a neighbor's house and having the mother come into the room and inform me that I need to be home swiftly. As I ran home, my head was crowded with thoughts to the point where I could not even think about why I was supposed to be home quickly. That day marked the transition of what would be the biggest change in my life. As by dad became sicker,

I was in 11th grade, and I was taking Latin, which many considered to be a rigorous. I enjoyed Latin because my teacher made it extremely fun, so I was always excited to be in class. We were taking an exam, and my friend was attempting to communicate with someone and I thought she had called my name. As a result, I looked up and nodded my head. After the test, my teacher asked us both to step out and accused us of cheating. He explained that he did not want to embarrass us in class that’s why he asked us to step out after the test. I was immediately offended. I have never cheated on an exam, and after knowing him for over a year and a half I was extremely upset that he would even think that I was capable of cheating.

I recall all of us marching up the stairs when we started hearing cracking and thumps from cabinets falling over. We started to call 911. They did not answer because they were getting millions of calls from other people. My parents suddenly said we needed to leave the house. So we all scrambled down the stairs to the front door, my mother and me were the last ones. However, the stairs were muggy from our shoes that were soaked in water. As I was climbing down the stairs, my feet slid out from under me and I fell on my back, which shot a pain all the way through my body. I could hardly manage to swallow without feeling pain. Nevertheless, I picked myself up and kept walking. As we, all stood by the front door the water had come up to our waists. My father told us to stand clear of the door because when he turned the knob it would sling open very fast from the force of the water. When he did turn the knob, he was correct and it whirled open very fast. From all the water that gushed in, the water level rose about one foot higher in seconds. With all this water, tons of debris floated around the

The sparks fly in the air, there are marshmallows in your hair, and you’re with your favorite people in the world. This is called the best place on earth, for me at least. I enjoy camping so very much, you meet new people, experience different things, make new memories, and have a blast. You also see new sights, smell some things, and always wake up to the birds singing and not the bustling streets of the city. Camping is my go to activity.

Hearing the sounds of people breaking in half a wooden slab with their feet and cries being shouted out, I hesitantly entered the Dojo, placing my sandals in a cabinet. Dreading the smell of feet and sweat I didn’t enjoy coming. Not only was the smell bad but the physicality that was required was discomforting. The hits that my back and ribs received from missed side-kicks and jabs was unbearable.

I was not an intentionally bigoted twelve-year-old. I was raised in an affluent suburban community where the vast majority of people are white. The 100% white private nursery school which I attended was chosen by my parents largely due to its proximity to our home. My public elementary school was about 70% white as it was populated with students who resided nearby. Finally, the private middle school which I attended, located almost an hour from my home, provided me with exposure to the most diverse student body of my youth as it was comprised of about 65% Caucasian children. What each of these formative academic experiences shared in common was both that their student bodies were disproportionately Caucasian, as well as that their senior administrators

My dad, for as long as I can remember, has always been a big part of my life. All throughout middle and high school we would have heart to heart conversations just father and son. I can remember the warmth of the fire, the taste of tea on the tip of my tongue, a cool midnight breeze blowing in carrying the scent of grass and fresh rain, my dad sitting across the room telling me about the different projects he was working on, and regaling me with advice to help in everyday life. One night, he told me something that would change my life forever: that all the different clubs, hobbies, and sports that I do are connected to each other in some way, and how each skill I gain from each of these different activities can be filed away to use in a later

In the beginning of third grade was so exciting because I will get to see my friends. But when I got home my parents told me and my brother that we are moving. I was really excited at first because it was my first time moving.

This assignment brought me closure, the making of “The rose that grew from the concrete” brought me to tears literally. My sons birthday took place on a Saturday, and the drawings and final cuts of the paper were made the night before Friday. I made arrangements before hand, and decorated the basement with a Teen Titans theme on Thursday. I was feeling bitter sweet about my sons birthday since he was turning five. I believe that this year was harder one me, since he had just started school for the first time. As I pressed play on my final product a million things ran through my head.

For a while, I had been running away from the terrifying incidents. All I saw were men with big guns and people shooting. Everyone had a curfew. No one got out of the house after dusk. Life wasn’t the same, school wasn’t the same. My routines weren’t the same.

I remember when I was a little girl so innocent and carefree, everything was just so enjoyable. going to the lake the smell of the fresh clean air, the sight of clear flowing water and the laughter of my sisters and I. I was the youngest of three sisters (no brothers). my sisters always protected me and always showed me how much they loved me. well we all grow up as a child you have no worries and no clue of the realities of life ahead until we are "Grown" .

I put on jeans, get ready to head outside when I hear something near my window. It was as if it was trying to get my attention. I quickly put on my jeans and shirt and rush to the window in my living room. I come to the realization that it was actually Steve that was knocking on my window.

I love living in a small town, it gives me a sense of guaranteed safety and simplicity.

“Thanks for the breakfast, dad! See you tonight!” he called as he ran out the door, locking it behind him.

“Hello?, wake up!” I slightly opened my eyes to find a man in my face, I bolted up right “what are you doing!” I questioned. Then I started to remember I had been on a bus to Stanford. He must be the driver. I apologized for my rudeness and got up, and grabbed my bags. After again apologizing, I went off to find my dorm.