Personal Narrative: Southern British Columbia

this, this was just the means to an end, nothing more. The dark grey clouds hung

Green, black and white, the colors we represented from kindergarten on. The pride we had for Southlake Carroll was indescribable. Our Friday nights consisted of the lights of the stadium and families who eat, sleep and breathe “The Tradition”. We were raised to become the Dragons or in my case the endless hours of training to become an Emerald Belle wasn’t an option, it was a lifestyle. Although Southlake is known for great academics the favoritism was very noticeable. I was spoiled with the leniency of the teachers who felt sympathy for my fourteen hour days. I got free passes and green lights, not gonna lie, it was pretty great. When I got hurt and my training to become the highly idolized Emerald Belle came to an end, so did the free passes.

San Luis, Colorado is the oldest town in Colorado. The Rio Culebra winds through the valley, surrounded by majestic mountains. It is one of the most beautiful scenes I have ever seen. My family along with many others have been here for generations. The beauty of the land is only accentuated by the beauty of our tight-knit families and culture. To counteract of all the physical and cultural beauty, there is social and economic strife everywhere around me. I live in the poorest county in Colorado and being impoverished is a challenge my community faces because of a lack of education and job deficit. As I have delved into community and family history, I have better understanding that the fact the that while many things like our support and love for family and culture have remain unchanged and untainted, so has the fact that our community struggles

Colorado, known for the Rocky Mountains, is a gorgeous place to be. The rectangular state rich with wildlife, covers 104,185 square miles. In the black timber, it is dark and silent, not a sound to be heard. The thick pine trees block out most of the sunlight, only to see about seventy-five yards. The terrain is brutal, almost straight up and down, but the elk love it because it is a challenge for hunters to see them. As I walk my favorite ridgeline in the black timber, I watch for the slightest movement and listen for the smallest crack. Watching thirteen-lined ground squirrels run around and chase each other can be humorous when they fall down from trees. My adrenaline pumps and heart races at a million miles per hour as I wait patiently

Growing up in rural North Carolina was both a blessing and a curse. My hometown, Fallston, North Carolina, is a tiny town way off the beaten path. Most people speak with a southern accent, are devout christians, vote Republican, think camouflage is a normal fashion pattern, and adore country music. But while I was a child, none of these things were a problem. I never realized how close-minded everyone was or how there were no opportunities for success; I was too concerned with the three most important events of the year: the Fallston FunFest, the Belwood Tractor Pull, and the Cleveland County Fair. However, as I grew older, zeal wore off and reality set in. I started to realize how conservative and restrictive it was. What little Fallston offered,

Harpers Island. A place I never imagined myself going back to. Not after all the shit that went down there. Too many bad memories for such a small island. Yet, here I was, on the ferry, heading back to that very island. If that wasn’t surprising enough, the only reason I was going back was because my father was getting married again and decided that Harper’s Island was the best place to do it (bullshit). Most of the guests attending were on the bride’s side of the family. All of them were hot-shit lawyers and judges and doctors and basically everything my father wasn’t. He lucked out though, his words. When I received the invite, to say I was hesitant would be the understatement of the millennia. I almost decided not to go. I was so close.

West Virginia has always been a part of my life, although I am not a resident. When I think of the state the first things that come to mind are college, beauty, and friends. My family has had ties for many years to West Virginia. My mother attended West Virginia Wesleyan College and my relation to the state grew stronger when I chose to attend WVWC. In the past three years I have become enamored with the state and all it has to offer. The pure, wild, beauty of the state is something I will never forget. From orienteering to the top of Spruce Knob with other students in the honor’s program to white water rafting the lower Gauley River with my roommates, I have enjoyed exploring West Virginia. During my time in West Virginia I have learned more

I am a South Dakota girl through and through. I grew up in Clark and haven’t been far away from there since graduating in 1993. I attended SDSU where I started as a music major and quickly learned that I was not meant for that classroom. My high school English teacher gave me some excellent advice during Christmas break of my freshmen year, and I never looked back! In my 16 years as an educator, I have taught a wide range of ELA, Speech, Journalism, and History classes to 7-12 grade students in a number of A and B schools in the Watertown area. I have landed back home at CHS where I have taught 9-12 ELA/Speech and K-4 PE for the last four years.

In 1752 at the age seventeen years, I was a destitute living in Scotland, Ireland. With no real skill-trade or education I had high ambitions to become a collective dependant, hoping to achieve a stable lively-hood in the New World. I lost most of my loved sickness. The only few relatives remaining were as impoverished as myself. Fearing there would be no prospect of a better life in Scotland I contracted myself as an indentured servant in exchange for passage to the New World. I and many others boarded a merchant ship that specialized in the trade of textiles and dress making. It was in the interest of the captain to keep us fed and in decent health to be sold for profit to proprietors in the colonies. Our voyage to New York would take 8-9

I would go to canada and other diffrent countries in discover new things like religion citys

Many people believe that Orange County, California is the best place to live for its great location, community and economic strong hold. But what those people forget to take into account is the people that make up this community. Living in Mission Viejo, an overwhelming amount of people think that this a place of Eden, that has the greatest neighborhoods to raise children. Well they are wrong. Our self-inflicting wounds are done by teenagers who choose to poison themselves. I was once one of them.

Living in Prince Edward Island, as a citizen, I have a lot of concerns for the future of my land. In the province of Canada, voices for confederation are coming out. This idea sounded exciting at first, after all who wouldn't want a strong country that unites all people, but for us things are different. Imagine if we handed our money and resources, or even right and prosperity to the government, how much would we get back. Our voice would still be unheard since we are of small population, very insignificant in the united government. We are already stable in development, with all these timber, farming, ship building business and more as we are developing a strong tie with Britain and United States. I’m worried that if we joined, our peaceful

A few weeks ago I was sitting in my old dusty chair watching the news. I was just thinking about the day’s work ahead of me, and wondering if my body will make it through the day. I heard a car door slam. I imagined that it was my wife pulling in, but that would be impossible. I wondered who it could be. I do not get many visitors this time of year, not in the off-season. Could it be the fella that was on the news? They said a girl was murdered in Iowa and the suspect got away, and may be on his way to Canada. Then a loud knock on the door filled the empty room. I got out of my chair slowly, like a pregnant woman would, and made my way to the door. I could hear a creak with every step I took, and only God knows if it came from the floor, or these knobby knees.

Where I come from it's taking pride in your yard, knowing every single one of your neighbors, and leaving doors unlocked because there isn’t a thing to worry about. I find comfort in that small town feel, and I am more than proud to be from good ol’ Warrenton, Indiana. Here, we are just a wee bit shy of being big enough to be on a map, but we have a name and we have town lines. Within those lines nearly two hundred people have found a home, and thanks to Mr.Dave Gruible our community is steadily flourishing. There are now three subdivisions on the rise in addition to the church, salon, family restaurant, and campgrounds that nestled into the area years ago.

As you enter the city of Toronto, enclosed by skyscrapers towering over you overflowing with culture, where time passes swiftly as people dash by you; it makes you feel trivial in the metropolitan area. The city of shadows that cast a never ending gloom, only to be broken up by the narrow gap in-between buildings. A substantial lake embedded with Silurian rocks on the edge, surrounding the downtown business district, keeping the city steadily in place. Toronto is the younger sibling of New York and Chicago, hesitant of the spotlight these other districts possess, but not shy enough to be known worldwide. A city of roads that disperse in many directions, paving the way of people’s futures and success; unknown as to where you will end up. Many