Personal Narrative Analysis

A reoccurring circumstance in my life that I have been apart of for the last couple of years is competing on a cross-country team. For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit-by-bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that’s why I’ve put in the effort day after day: to raise my own level. Racing for me hasn’t always been this crystal clear. When I first started running there were the wind sprints, suicides, mile runs, max-out days, and the months of conditioning that made me wonder why as athletes we keep giving a 110 percent day in and day out.

Back when I still wore pigtails, I remember always feeling like an afterthought by my parents. I understood why, and it was justifiable. Since I was the eldest, and my younger brother was put on the autism spectrum, I knew I had to grow up extra quick, for Father always worked and Mother had her plate full, trying to raise us. I would do my chores without being asked and do my homework without needing help, just so Mother could have one less child to worry about. My brother, however, had to have everything done for him. He even needed Mother to brush his pearly whites for him. It was just one more duty to add to the infinite list of responsibilities Mother had to do for my brother.

For the first six years of my life, I was a content child who enjoyed the companionship of a younger brother and had little to no worries. Then one day in August, my family decided that it was time to move again. This time our destination was Keene Texas, a rather small city whose only notable feature was a modest Seventh Day Adventist University.

The paradox of human nature is driven by the paramountcy of competition. Whether biological as powered by evolution, or modern as in the case of college admission, competition galvanizes progress. The simple fact that elite colleges are becoming more selective due to the large number of competitive students demonstrates this. Resolution is not earned without the conflict that precedes it; therefore, even defeat should be treated as an opportunity for improvement, as it is all we can really do.

As I become aware of the different issues that are happening in Puerto Rico and the rest of the world, I realize the duty we all have to be part of the solution; as a result, this summer I dedicated some of my time to community service. Even though, I had participated in some causes with my school, it was not until this summer that I discovered how rewarding it is to help others. I volunteered in the Food Bank of Puerto Rico (Feeding America), the American Red Cross and Puerto Rico Therapy Dogs. Each of the causes is special in their own way and I really enjoyed working with them.

In my four years of my high school experience, I was not excited to go to school or even be at school due to the long days, but at the end of the day, I was really excited to attend a place

Times are changing, and the world is becoming more advanced. Changing times lead to changing education. With changing education schools must decide what is important to keep teaching, for example cursive writing. I believe cursive writing is something that belongs in our past.

When I was a naïve little girl in middle school, I always had a problem speaking up for myself whether it was a bully, a teacher, or my friends. I’ve always had a problem with voicing my opinions because I honestly didn’t want to feel judged for saying them or for feeling absolutely useless. I was an awkward, 14 year old girl who had many insecurities and was always shy when it came to just being myself. Being shy and insecure didn’t really help with the fact that I had to do presentations all the time and had to socialize when we were paired up in partners. I was a nervous wreck when it came to do with anything of being myself in front of my peers and teachers.

Furniture, valuables, and boxes are stacked all the way to the ceiling. By this time, I have been accustomed to the process of putting my valuables in a storage locker. I had to leave my house and stay with a friend of the family. From middle school to my sophomore year of high school, I lived in seven different places. Therefore, it was convenient to have a storage locker to keep my belongings in. It was comforting to know that my stuff would still be there when I found a permanent place to stay.

When I was younger my dad used to be an alcoholic and he also cheated on my mom with so many girls. One day I went to sleep over his house and all these girls showed up every time I went over, he would always send me to his room alone and I would sleep in the dark scared thinking something might happen to me. One day when I went over he was drinking and all I remember is I was sitting on the floor and he just started kicking me, and my little self is thinking what did I do wrong. But I always went back not knowing if it’s going to happen again. My dad lived everywhere because he didn’t have that much money to stay settled in one place so he lived on top of “Tony’s Deli” in Pawling NY and the trailer park by beer and soda in Wingdale NY. When

Both my biological parents as well as my step parents are educators, so it is no surprise that the expectation of college is one that I have carried since the day I was born. Learning everyday was essential in both of my households, and throughout preschool and elementary school I was met with flashcards, workbooks, and encyclopedias encompassing every core subject. Yet somehow I always found time in the day to draw.

I’ve been called a perfectionist, a procrastinator, a control freak, scatterbrained, a worrywart, and a stress case, not without good reason. I’ve had anxiety issues since I was little, but the growing pressure from middle school to high school really brought out the stress big-time. Throughout elementary school, I received good grades but I acted shy and distracted. I spent lots of time with my nose buried in a book- at home, while shopping, in the car, at other people’s houses, even while crossing the street (which I do not recommend). Fiction, specifically fantasy, was my favorite escape. I’d spend hours attending Hogwarts, discovering Narnia, fighting in the Hunger Games, exploring Fablehaven, and taking on Greek mythological monsters. It was just so much easier and more fun to deal with fictional problems than face reality.

In my recent memory, there hasn’t been a significant “bump in the road” that affected my last four years. However, if there was something that I will acknowledge held me back from unleashing my full potential, it definitely had to be caring a little too much for my friends.

I sat in my room paralyzed with anxiousness. Mr. Chappuis had told us the grades would be in by 5:00 pm, but it was already nearing 6 o'clock. I tapped my fingers on the desk more rapidly as my thoughts began to wander to the fear that was in my mind as the test was placed on my desk. I gripped my chair thinking about all the questions I had answered without a clue of the true response. A shock went down my spine as I began to realize the impact this exam would have on my final french grade. The sun’s final rays danced across the sky as I was still focused on refreshing my computer every several seconds. When I could almost no longer bare it, I saw my grade flash up on the screen in large blue print. I could not conceive of what had happened!

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