Personal Narrative: Algebra

I planned on continuing to do math at a grade level higher and easily breeze through my academics with little to no effort for the rest of my schooling. However, life had a different course for me. Then, my perfect plan for life was not just shattered, it exploded in a brilliant display like a car in a cheesy action movie. All thanks to a part-time school called Treasure Valley Math and Science Center.

My personal trainer saw how corpulent I was, so he decided to put me on a strong weight loss program.

The first year, the time to prove myself had arrived. Classes, rooms, teachers, and some students were unfamiliar. Eventually, minutes melted into hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. It didn’t take long before my schedule was routine, something of second nature. Humor and happiness were found in the form of my advisory family, where school was transformed into something more than going through the same motions of day to day activity. By the closing point of sixth grade, I was having a hard time letting go of what I’d adapted to. “What’s wrong?” my dad asked when I was getting into the car after being picked up early on the last day. I explained how distressed I was that my first year of middle school exceeded my expectations, and that it had to come to an end. Although his outlook viewed my reason for sorrow as trivial, I didn’t.

On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade

I find myself reading this short paragraph over and over(above). My topic sentence makes me happy and proud. Going back to school was the best thing I have done. I chose to talk about going back to school to the “future employer” because it shows I am motivated as well as dedicated. This class has brought a lot to my attention. The mannerism that is expected in the “business world” is to speak and write well. It is extremely important to know how to write (type) a meaning full and proper paper whether it is for school or work. I have noticed a great impact in my vocabulary and writing skills. My boss told me on Monday he is impressed with the new docs I typed up for our new clients (with no help from him). I was not excited about this class

English was always my best High School subject; Math and Science were always my worst I took three years of Special ED Math and Science.The High School I attended didn't offer multiple Special Ed math classes options. My schedule never featured a Lab Science or an Algbra class. I completed the minimum three year Math and Science requirement on time. It was a tedious task. I was excited to pursue a writing degree. This decision was based on my early childhood writing dream. I knew that I wanted to become a writer when I was 4 or 5.

My greatest struggle this week was trying to find the least common denominator of two fractions. I quickly remember how to solve equations and converting fractions into mixed numbers. But I had to read the section over and over and worked through the feature to help me solve the problem to find the least common denominator. I feel as if that skill is not mastered and need much improvement because fractions are a part of everyday life.

When I was in fifth grade, I was taking third grade math. I could not, for the life of me, figure it out. Math was a huge struggle, and it still is. However, now, I am in Algebra II. Algebra II is a junior class and I am taking it as a sophomore. I have worked very hard to get where I am. This situation has made me realize a couple things. Number one: it is OK to ask questions. Number two: If you work hard, you will accomplish something.

So freshman algebra rolled around and I loved it. After two weeks in the class I was three and one half chapters ahead of the teacher. He would only assign the odd problems for homework, but I’d do them all. Geometry was even cooler. But thinking back, not one of the teachers even commended me for doing so well. My father noticed I was good at it, but I thought he had to tell me I was good; he was my father.

How often does somebody in their teenage years wet themselves in middle of class? I just so happen to know a girl like that. Part of it was even my fault.

In my eighth grade Algebra I class, I finished with an 89%, the first "B" I had ever earned in middle school. While a relatively decent mark, I knew I could do better. In the class, I had solved problems simply by memorizing the processes and regurgitating them to the best of my ability. Tired of not understanding, I decided to change this rigid mindset of memorizing to a mentality

Eighth grade year came along, and I was officially registered for Algebra I. We received our books, and were officially introduced to our Algebra I teacher. Towards the end of the first nine weeks, however, our class received bad news,

When I was younger, my parents made a board with all of the qualities of me and what I aspire to someday. Every night in my cozy, warm, bed, I would read all of the words individually; thoughtful, honest, confident, dependable, self control, humble, caring. Reading this every night fulfilled me in a way I can’t put into words.

Ever since we received report cards in the mail, a part of me dreaded it. When I was nine, I scrambled up the stairs after peering over my twin brother’s grades just to shove my head under my pillow and dismally wonder why I was not good as him. He was always the one my parents prided about to the other parents while I was an afterthought. Around ten and eleven, my parents gave my brother and I math practice over the weekends. My mother and father would frequently rupture in frustration when I asked too many questions or struggled on a concept. Slouched in my chair, tears would uncontrollably rush down my cheeks that even my hands could not stop the wrinkled pages from getting stickily smudged and drenched again. Being twelve was no better. When my parents tried to console me by remarking my B’s sufficed because girls were not be as smart as boys, they only confirmed my doubts that I would always be behind in life both in my mind and in reality no matter how much I felt or thought I did. All of my uncertain and inadequate thoughts that dominated throughout my childhood only amplified when I was thirteen. Eyes wide and terrified, my mother stood and pointed rigidly before me in quivering fury, bellowing how I never worked hard, how my passions were ridiculous, and how one day I would end up a failure like my older brother whose coming out devastated my parents

In junior High School, things started to turn around for me. Although I was still placed in lower level classes, I developed a love for learning. In the years to come from Junior High to High School, I had a strong urge to make up for lost time. One class I started to excel in was the one I used to have the most trouble with, Mathematics. It seemed as though the once boring and complex equations now seemed meaningful and simple. As I progressed into 8th grade, I was able to advance to normal classes. I felt that the hard work I put in was finally paying of. At this point, I felt that I could handle a higher level. At the end of 8th grade, I took the necessary procedures and tests to try and get into honor - level courses in 9th grade. After taking a summer course of Algebra 1 and several tests I was able to succeed and take the classes. The experience was great. I felt that I was finally going the right direction