Personal Narrative: Human Anatomy

It was a Wednesday afternoon, I was trapped in the most exciting class Shawnee Mission West had to offer, Human Anatomy. By exciting, I mean I had the opportunity to memorize each of the bones that surrounded the vital thoracic organs in the human body, very cool. My brain felt like it was slowly deteriorating as I was waiting for the clock to strike 2:40. The anticipation was brutal. I struggled to keep my eyes open, and my thoughts focused. The slow ticking sound of the clock interrupted the voice of my teacher’s lecture. Mr. Bair, made his best effort to keep the class involved in his lecture, as he was explaining how the human body was composed of 270 different bones. Although, the distracting sound of the clock, and the anticipation of

Although class was over and my brain felt like mashed potatoes, I felt proud conquering another mundane day of school. I entered the locker room to change for soccer practice. The smell of sweat, cheap cologne, and boys filled my nostrils. I changed into the proper athletic apparel and walked onto the practice field. It was a perfect day, a little hot I suppose, but who could complain? The sun was radiating warmth, birds chirping, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I remember thinking to myself, life is so grand right now, nothing could possibly ruin this day for me. I greeted my teammates and coaches with a bright smile and a cheerful “hello!” After going through the daily routine of practice, running, drills, and an intense cool down, my friends and I walked back to the locker rooms. As we were chatting along, cracking jokes and making meticulous strategies for tomorrows match, my friend Ricky made a comment that still haunts me to this day. “Hey Al” He began, “Have any rice for your lunch today?” My heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, what was it like being the only guy in school having rice with their lunch?!” Another friend said, pitching into the insults. I was speechless. My brain failed to create any sort of response. Looking back now, I regret not saying anything, but at that exact moment I was dead silent; I felt completely alone, even though I was surrounded in a

It made me question my own identity. Was it wrong to be raised within the Asian culture? Is my race, compared to others, more inferior? Coming from a 6A school with a majority being Caucasian, Hispanic, and African America, it makes you feel disassociated when you don’t fall into any of these races. To put into perspective, I was one of the only three Asian-Americans in my school system. I remember feeling as if I were a stranger walking the halls of Shawnee Mission