Graduation Speech - Original Writing

Nine years ago, I never could have imagined I’d be writing this essay. I was a senior in high school, and, like the rest of my classmates, I was apprehensive about the future. Unlike my classmates, I felt like I had missed the proverbial “you need to get your life together” message. I watched my classmates apply to colleges, their majors already decided and their future careers mapped out. While I was an above average student, I felt I lacked the decisiveness my classmates seemed to have. I did not feel passionate about a career or even a field of study. I felt defective. This was compounded by the financial strain I knew attending college would have on my family. It seemed wasteful to try to “find my passion” at school while squandering

Over the course of the semester, my writing has improved tremendously. I used to be very scared of writing and hated the idea of sharing my writing or thoughts with anybody. I used to never go to teachers, friends, or my parents for help because I was embarrassed of my writing and did not want them to read it. This semester I worked harder to get past this and gain more confidence in my writing. Now I have developed a solid pre-writing process that has helped me develop more organized essays and become less scared of writing.

Lights flashing day and night, cars and taxi’s stuck in the day rush and the night to endure the spotlight, but in North Brooklyn there was to girls, two girls who were friends since 6th grade. They went through many hardships but still always managed to come together. They never let anything completely disable their friendship. They were the ideal friendship at minimum, at most they were like a friendship you could only pray for. Natalia and Roxanne were inseparable.

(Francisco gets ready for school looking as if he still isn 't awake. After he walks downstairs to Mrs. Mendoza cooking breakfast)

It 's the minute details that are vital: the small things are what make big things happen. There are certain flashbacks of one’s childhood that stay forever in one’s mind. There is one day in particular that is still fresh in my mind. It was the fall of third grade, and I forgot to pray Shacharit that morning. My evident passion for Tefillah began at a young age. As the realization dawned on me, tears were suddenly streaming down my face. This had never occurred to me before, and I felt nervous. I had realized the power of Tefillah in first grade and I was motivated to pray out loud every single day even on non-school days. How could I forget to pray to G-d that morning? With lips quivering, I immediately wondered if G-d would punish me. My mother, one of my prime role models explained to me that it is okay to error and that it is never too late to pray. The one time I forgot to pray to G-d was a critical juncture for me during my childhood. As a result of this occurrence, I realized over time that mistakes do happen and that one can move forward after. That day was one of the roots of determination that emerged over the years. This one seemingly small and insignificant event impacted my life and will continue to be a precedent for further goals and choices.

BEEEEPP… BRRR… BEEP…BRRRRRR! My room flashed in front of me, quickly then disappeared. The morning sun peeked through my translucent curtains. Shadows of dancing branches appeared on my white walls. I woke up panicked at the sound of an alarm I had forgotten to turn off the previous night. How stupid could I be, forgetting to turn off an alarm clock attached to my own chest! Saturday morning and awake at 6 A.M, really?! I forced my eyes shut, but no use. After several attempts to get both feet on the ground, I began my day doing things I don’t usually do (12 P.M is my usual routine). Hmmmm? Six hours ahead of my weekend routine, what to do? After a quick breakfast of my usual free range sunny side up eggs, I got out for an early morning jog, quite a rarity to see me out on the streets at this time. I put on my shoes, and enjoyed the rest of my morning with music.

This was the first week of school and I completed this thesis quite hurriedly. I was NOT prepared for the amount of summer reading (AP History, English, and Sacraments), so I ended up spending most of the first week in a zombified state of sleepwalking from class to class. I was taken aback when I accidentally submitted two versions of the assignment to Poll EV and both were voted to the top of our class. I hadn’t much time for proofreading and I barely remembered what happened in the novel at that point due to the fact that I was going on about half an hour of sleep.

Princeton was my Paris not Nolan. My parents talked to each other and asked me more questions about Nolan. They couldn 't believe that I finally had a boyfriend. "Boyfriend" and "Nolan" in the same sentence made me lose my appetite. Mom and dad told me they wanted to meet him soon.

I was walking to school, like usually because i missed the bus again. My house was only four blocks away and it was a rainy day and a cold one too. When i finally made it to school everyone was already going to there classes .

“Take a deep breath, walk out in front of that gymnasium full of kids, and show them who you really are.” I assured myself. Believe it or not, you can make a difference. Even the most invisible people have a voice as loud as a lion’s roar. All you have to do is take that first step and believe in yourself.

In the back seat, intently listening to the words coming through the speakers, what is this I hear? Something so soulful, full of emotion, and life, it 's as if I entered into another dimension, floating on a cloud of serenity. This feeling abruptly ended with a goodbye kiss as I prepare to enter the school building. I was enjoying my early morning schedule, learning about simple mathematics, how to get along with my peers, playing at recess, but I couldn 't wait to get lost again, leave the earthly realm with this wonderful sound of instruments and voices, ever so quietly coming through my mother’s car speakers. The final bell rings, my heart throbs with joy, I get to ride home.

It does not matter how slow you go as long as you do not stop. -Confucius

I still remember coming home from school when I was six years old saying, “Mommy, I’m so happy that now boys and girls are equal.” We had just learned about how things used to be and I was happy we had come so far. But I remember being eight and getting in trouble for yelling at a boy in my class. It didn’t matter that he had called me stupid, all my teacher said was “Boys will be boys, but good girls don’t fight back.” And then at ten years old I remember walking around with my family, hearing words I had never heard before screamed out of cars at me, not knowing what they meant, but knowing that whatever they meant wasn’t right. I remember my mother telling me I couldn’t wear that dress anymore, because she didn’t want people

“I want her to be a TJ.” Those were the words my dance teacher, Mrs. Cortez, told my parents during open house. I remember feeling really awkward, fidgeting as my parents and sister all shifted their gaze to me after she said that. I guess they must have had a weird look on their faces since Mrs. Cortez made a comment about it. She went on to tell them that I was a top student in her class which made me feel really happy. When I was younger, I wasn’t very good at dancing, but I still loved to dance and did so every chance I got. Hearing that I was a top student gave me a sense of accomplishment, but I wasn’t sure if I was worthy enough of being on the team at my current skill level. These thoughts were running through my head as my parents and Mrs. Cortez were talking.

I sat on my bed, casually waiting for my mom to hurry and take me to school. The air smelled like the fish market from across the street. Cars were honking outside and the babies from upstairs were screaming at the top of their lungs.