Personal Narrative : The Father Mentor

Severe Breach of Conduct. As stated by the National Collegiate Athletic Association (2013), Level I violations “… seriously undermine or threaten the integrity of the NCAA collegiate model set forth in the Constitution and bylaw…” (p.1). This includes any violation that provides “competitive or other advantages,” or “substantial or extensive impermissible benefit.” Such infractions would include, but are not limited to, academic fraud, lack of institutional control, failure to cooperate in an NCAA enforcement investigation,

A contract is an agreement made with an intention of legal rights and obligations which the law will enforce. It contains the agreement, consideration and intention. It also have some other things to consider, like capacity of parties, genuine consent or legality of object.

What keeps me up at night is how privileged I am. My father grew up in a very poverty stricken town, Guanajuato. Even though his family owned a great deal of land to cultivate fruits, they were barely able to make ends meet. My Grandma and father would have to wake up at 5 am to walk all the way to the other side of town and then catch a bus to a nearby town, Celaya, to sell what they had harvested. While there, my father would go to a nearby wasteland to find any old toys or clothes others had thrown out. This was a continuous thing until my dad, at the age of 15 decided to come to the United States, with nothing else other than a few extra pairs of raggedy clothes, that he had gotten from the wasteland. My father stayed in Texas to help provide

I laid down on the white, musty bedsheets next to my ailing mother. This was her fourth trip to the hospital in a month. I was only six at the time and wasn’t really sure why I was in this room waiting for the doctor to come back, but I knew I had to be there for my best friend. I snuggled up closer on her right side and mustered up the courage to ask the question I had been wondering all month.

One bright early morning on the field of the 2015 Annual Wiffle Ball Championship laid the bright golden trophy next to the pitcher's mound. The sun glared at the trophy in joy leaving the bright beams of light reflecting into the eyes of the players. As I was on the field I heard the loud smashing voice of the opponent's team line-up harshly told by the coach. By the sound of his voice he seemed determined to win the trophy. I then turned to look at my dad playing 3rd and he said with a soft voice ¨be patient¨. At the time I was eager to get a hold of the wiffle ball. Finally the inning was over. As I went back to

Communication with my mentors have been awesome. I used my experience of being a Resident Advisor (RA) to build the platform if they had any questions and concerns to ask me without hesitation. So far, my mentors have used different forms of communication (Group Me, text and emails) to get in contact me which I like. I know I have told them which type of communication method is appropriate such as, if it is a lengthy question that needs a lengthy response to email me instead of texting me. When it came to our first lead meeting I emailed all my mentors to bring in their resume to critique it, but unfortunately no one brought it. I asked them what would work best such as being emailed the day before compared to two days in advance. This was

Well, if you'll pardon my saying so, I guess it is interesting, the many ways you and I overlap and whatnot. You begin with our Daddies. Your daddy was a pastor of the New Hope Baptist Church; my daddy was a pastor of a church at Excelsior Springs. Um. You're the youngest of the three James boys; I'm the youngest of the five Ford boys. Between Charley and me, is another brother, Wilbur here, with six letters in his name; between Frank and you was a brother, Robert, also with six letters. Robert is my Christian name. You have blue eyes; I have blue eyes. You're five feet eight inches tall. I'm five feet eight inches tall. Oh me, I must've had a list as long as your nightshirt when I was twelve, but I've lost some curiosities over the years.

In 2005, it was 75 degrees in Tampa, Florida and my dad, sister, and I were at the beach. I was only eight years old and I felt relaxed. Growing up in Florida was tough because it was only my dad that took care of us. Every morning he wakes up at 6 A.M, makes his coffee, wakes my sister and I up, makes breakfast, and bring us to day care. Since my mom was not around it was difficult for him, being a single parent trying to make means for his family. Just like in “Aunt Alice vs. Bob Marley,” Kareem Kennedy’s aunt describes her parents as “hard workers.” She said, “Mom didn’t have to work, but she chose to work because she wanted to make sure we had everything. They always made sure we had a decent meal.”

It is fair to say that just about everyone is familiar with situations of governmental corruption and irresponsibility, however, the question is, how serious can it actually get? This New York Times article talks about a situation in Mexico where it does definitely get serious, possibly so serious that it was even covered up. A case involving the disappearances of forty-three college students was recently revived and it was concluded by various experts that the story the Mexican government told about what had happened was false and filled with gaps. The government’s evidence was found to be too weak to certify its conclusion. The government’s version of the story essentially says that some students whom wanted to steal buses for transportation

Previously, I worked as a mentor for The Academic Support Program for Student Athletes at North Carolina State University. I was responsible for teaching, skill development, and promoting academic engagement to a caseload of at-risk students-athletes individually and in group settings. I gained first-hand experience helping student register for and utilize accommodations from the Disability Service Office (DSO). As a result, I became familiar with assistive technologies and different learning tools and strategies.

my life is not perfet I was born do not have everything like the others my parent dirolce when i was a child iI live with my grandpareants grandma taught to take care of my everything I got love from grandparents Although iI have no father sine I can remember I don't know word father I've never seen a face but I get love from the people around and my mom bak on 6 years ago I'm 12 years old As the memories of special the best story for me I met father come to me my father never saw more than 10 years I was shocked and excited don't think that's true I looked at my father for a long time and I think this is my father  It'good for me  I don't think I will met but why am I like this I'm not interested father unti now I want to go back in time but

When I was eight years old, I realized I was slightly different from my dad, but very similar. My dad, and my brother, and I were sitting upstairs in our room and my dad said, “I’m gonna draw something for you guys to guess.” So my brother and I sat there waiting and watched him draw it. My brother and I were interested and what he was drawing and we really liked it. My dad made sure the drawing was well done so we could all guess what it was. He was getting close to the end and me and my brother kept trying to guess it and have fun with it. It took a minute for my brother and I to guess it, but when we finally got it is when I realized I wasn't talented at drawing like my dad and I don't like to draw as much as him. Although I had fun with him, we are very different.

There we are, Shelly and I, waking up early that Saturday morning to a hustle and bustle of pumping up ring tubes, packing coolers, walking to the store in the blazing heat, and preparing for the days events. Shelly, being a close childhood friend and later girlfriend of my father, Jeremy, we immediately had a close connection to one another. We had arranged to meet at Stout’s beach, this is not the actual name, but it was named that for one of my dad’s friends Jason Stout, and he was also a close childhood friend of my dads. There were so many of my dads friends who came in support of his memory. Many of these people he called friends he had known since he was a small child. The feeling I had greeting his childhood friends

The year is 2011 and my parents are staring at me across the dinning room table. The only thing on my mind is that I am in trouble. At eleven years old I could not fathom what was about to come. The fights and withdrawn attitudes should have prepared me for what they said, but they did not. I never thought my parents would separate, and at such a young age it was hard to comprehend. I knew that my family was about to change forever. My dad treated me like a princess, while my mom pushed me in school and extracurricular activities. My parents evened each other out. When my mother and I had a problem, my dad helped us work it out. He was my rock while my mom was someone I thought I had to love. Our communication centered on things like girl scouts, soccer, or praise dance. I always felt she loved my brothers more than me. For a while that was fine, I had my dad who hung the moon and the stars for me.

I heard a loud yell as I stepped off the last step off the bus. It was 4:02pm and I had just gotten back from school. “Emily, come here! Hurry!” It was my dad. 1 million things raced through my head as I heard the loud yell. Was he hurt? Was someone else hurt? Living on a farm, with animals and machinery, you generally don’t think of anything good when you hear yelling.