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Easy on transitioning from high school into college
Personal essay about transitioning to college life
Essays about transition to college
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For a long time now, I have had a good idea of the direction of my life. I plan to attend college, get a good job, then eventually start a family; I plan to “live happily ever after” just like my parents. During my sophomore year, however, everything changed. One summer night at around three in the morning, I heard my mother scream my name. I jumped out of bed confused and very scared; my heart raced. I stood at the top of the stairs, afraid to step down. I heard a strange noise so I took another step. With every step the sound became clearer and clearer to me. It was a sound I had never heard before, and to this day have only ever heard once in my life. It was the sound of my father crying. I got to the living the room and stood in the middle of all of the commotion. The coffee table had been …show more content…
I began to focus on my artwork, and I never settled for “good enough.” I constantly learned from other inspiring artists, like Kehinde Wiley, and continued to grow as an artist myself. My proudest piece is a painting I named “Love and Growth” to promote interracial relationships. However, I will not grow too comfortable with the artist I am becoming, instead, I will continue to improve. In college, I will not “go through the motions” or take getting my degree for granted, but I will get the most out of the opportunities I am presented with. My parents showed me that if I start to settle I could lose everything I have worked so hard for. I choose not to fear working toward progress, no matter what the emotional cost may be. While going to college, getting a job and eventually starting a family are still my future goals, I will not chase the idea of the perfect “happily ever after.” I will always strive for more: to be a better person, to improve my journey and the journey of those around me. I will not go through the motions; I will be the
It all started in high school, as a person, I was far from being responsible. School was just a place to meet friends, spent most of my time playing around, and never thought about the future. But gradually, my parents were getting worried about me. One night, I was in my room when they called, and asked me to go to the living room. I looked at their faces and I knew that we were going to have a serious conversation, and I was right. They tried to give me an advice, an advice on how time flies and I never had the ability to turn it back. That life was about making the right decision, and there were options and opportunities presented to me. Whether they were good or bad, I need to think of what was best for me and made a decision on which options or opportunities I would take, so I had not regretted my decision later on in my life. When I heard this, I realized that all this time, I had been wasting time playing around and I need to think about the future. For a couple of days, I was weighing my option left and right about what to do after graduated. Should I go straight to...
One night I was kitchen washing the dishes when all of the sudden my mother walked in and asked me if I have talked to my dad. I had replied that I hadn't heard from him in about a year. The next thing I know the words "Your Grandpa passed away yesterday morning, nobody knows were your dad is and they can't keep his body in the morgue past tomorrow." came from her mouth. I just stood there in shock, I couldn’t do anything. She told me to get ready and that we could drive up to my dads house in Ona. When we got there the windows were broken and covered up with some type of sheet and there was a piece of paper on his door that read "Go away. Just leave me alone...please.". We wrote a note and put it on the door and went home. That night I laid in my bed screaming inside my head and crying my eyes out for over a hour. In the morning I had a huge panic attack. I kept hearing ringing and buzzing noises and I could hardly breathe. It took me about thirty minutes to work up the nerve to come out of my bedroom. I ended up going
From small stick figures, to cartoon characters, to more realistic anatomy and detailed work. This only happened because of my dedication and constant practice with a pencil and paper. Though I do not consider myself the best artist, I became proud of my growth and motivation that branched out to other aspects of my life. This habit of practicing led me to take challenging courses and pursue other passions, like music. Though music seems a little minor in my life, it runs through the family, and I could never be where I am without the practice time I put in both my passions. The small details I picked up from them have helped me immensely in school. From motivation to not give up and the extra effort to understand the material, I created a process of how to do things, and I found myself grateful for the times where I felt lost, and found my way back. Through art, I found my sense of self and the motivation to excel and challenge myself in everything I
The literature focuses on the experiences of the interracial couple. The literature focus in-depth on black men and white women unions. This looks at societal, economic and political responses the couple have received. This seeks to explain how the couple copes with a relationship which is perceived as taboo, in order to emphasise how love can be colour blind. For example, Brown (1992) book, ‘The Colour of Love’ interviewed a number of interracial couples in Britain. The author acknowledges the racial history between blacks and whites in Britain, and explores how this affects the couple’s experiences from the two communities. However, studies tend to over represent black men and white women relationships, this neglects black women from the discourse. Black women’s attitudes and experiences are ignored and often are being constructed by black men and white women. These couples, emphasise how black women react to black men and white women in relationships, often depicting black women as ‘angry’ and oppositional. However, the studies fail to explore the attitudes of black women. This produces a bias exploration of interracial relationships since black women
I am not completely aware of race, however, I do see the world as we are there is very probable that I hold bias’s both within the Caucasian racial identity and outside of it as well. On the other hand, gender has been a predominate factor in my life, I have resisted the stereotypes of most female oriented jobs. I worked in factories as soon as my eighteenth birthday, I worked two jobs most of the time and never relied on a male for any support, I joined the Army, as the first female in my family to join the military. Also, choosing physically demanding employment opportunities. However, in the realm of income, I was always behind male counterparts, passed up for promotions, or laid-off first. Although, my paperwork always bragged about being
“You are only allowed to make racist jokes if it’s about your own race.” This saying, which radiated through the halls of my middle school that prided itself for its diversity, managed to make me feel more comfortable in my own skin. Why did the ability to make fun of two different races, while many of my peers could only make fun of one, validate my own racial identity? I should not have wanted to tease my race and my ancestors but it helped me feel comfortable, even though I knew my knowledge of the cultures I was born into was lacking.
It was late I thought. Almost midnight yet I was still unable to sleep. I stared thoughtlessly at the moving shadows mumbling to myself, "it was just a story" but in my heart I knew it wasn't, it was more than a story, much, much more. Then, a crow appeared in the middle of my room. The crow stared at me with such intensity that I fell backwards into the safety of my pillow. I stared at the crow in shock as it disappeared into my closet and that's when I heard it, a long piercing whine that was like a nail to a chalkboard. I prayed that it would go away, I prayed with all my heart but it stayed there continuing its long whine. It was then when I caught a glimpse of it. I saw two glowing bloodshot eyes stare at me. I let out a scream born from terror and almost immediately my dad came bursting into my room. He stared at me with confusion but all I could do was point a shaking finger at my closet door. Cautiously, my father marched into the closet door only to find nothing inside. Then, without warning, the closet door slammed shut along with my father still inside.
I appreciated your quick reply, it was a surprise and needless to say very well received.
The term “African-American” is one that I hold with great pride. When I look in the mirror, I am proud of my skin and I am proud of my ethnicity. My family is originally from Imo State, Nigeria, and as most foreign families, my parents came to America in search of a better life and higher education for their children. Being born in Boston Massachusetts, at times I could never truly understand the position my parents had on certain topics due to the differences in the culture that we were both raised in. During my first two high school years at Belmont Hill School, my parents would scarcely allow me go to Saturday games and practices for football, basketball, track, or any Saturday event that I needed to go to at my school. I am part of the
The afternoon my parents found out about my wrongdoing, they caught at the front door and made me kneel listening to them. I was sweating and tired from long hours of gaming and biking. I did not remember any of their words anything until fainting. The floor, wall, and celling mixed together, and my vision darkened. I heard my fast-paced breath and felt my heart throbbing like about to explode. Moreover, echoed in my head, my mom's and dad's panicking voices as they dragged me into bed and fetched me some milk.
avoid the marksman who discovered me, using the Nazi’s hedgehogs, metal barricades, for cover (Austra). The crater was now only about 10 yards in front of me, but they bullets started coming faster and in larger numbers. I took two more steps and dived forward. I landed in the crater, immediately turning around to look for Sgt. Thompson. I found the boat, but I couldn’t see him. Not a split second later, three guys pour out from around the corner of the boat, Sgt. Thompson included. The first man that turned the corner was instantly eliminated. I turned back around to cover them. I took aim at the bunkers and began to shoot at the bright lights flashing from the crow’s nests. These were the machine gunners. Each shot I took carefully, inhaling
We parked all our strollers and made our way to the bathrooms. I dreaded entering the cement block building, but I knew there was no other way. I tried to get done as quickly as possible, but there were such long lines that it was impossible. Once I had finished my business, I made my way outside and searched for a familiar face. My heart sped up as I realized I did not recognize anyone around me. I tried to stay calm, but soon my eyes started watering and the familiar lump in my throat appeared. Faces blurred as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I walked to the stroller parking; all the while my head whipped back and forth searching for a family member. When I made it there and noticed our strollers were gone, I really began to panic. My palms became sweaty and I thought I might throw up the cotton candy I had earlier. As my small mind started going into overdrive and thinking, “They left. They forgot about me,” my body slowly walked me back to the sour-smelling restrooms. I sat on a bench around the outside of the building and began to cry. I was positive that they had done it on purpose, and that my own family did not love me. As I sat there hoping it was not true, my mind continually repeated the words my father said to me. "If you ever get lost don't wander off. Stay where you are, and we will come find
My understanding of race has certainly changed over time. I spent first fourteen years of my life in a country that was predominantly white. I was not aware of racism simply because I did not encounter anyone who was not white. In fourteen years I saw one Black gentleman who was attending a Medical University in my town as an exchange student. My classmates and I saw him as someone exotic from the other side of the world. He was a matter of a conversation for about fifteen seconds before we went on about our daily lives.
A warm June breeze hits the densely packed crowd, positioned prostrate on damp ocean blue beach chairs as the harmful rays of the summer sun pour down onto pale backs of the shirtless people. Loud music blasts out of multiple speakers by the pool and sounds loud enough to knock you over if you get close enough. A positive vibe can be felt amongst all the people as we are all anxious to reach our destination. Loud footsteps can be heard as there seems to be a rush towards the shade where the refreshments are located. Occasional gusts of wind nudge sunglasses out of position and cause a chase down of runaway hats. When the ocean breeze is not too strong, peace is being enjoyed by the people. No stress can be felt by anyone. The scent of the salty ocean water climbs into my nostrils with each breeze that passes along the aroma of ice cream from the kids who
In high school my ideal career seemed to change from day-to-day. I tried working at a fast food restaurant, and ice cream parlor, a day care, but none of these led to any career decisions. I wanted to join the military so I took the ASVAB but I was not confident enough in my ability to make it through basic training so I gave up the idea. I wanted to be an architect so I applied for admission to the CAD program at ITT Technical Institute and was accepted. I was scheduled to start classes on June 12, 1989, but deep down what I truly wanted was to a wife and mother and the idea of getting out of Rantoul, Illinois did not hurt either. My unspoken desire came to the fore when I met my future husband in January of 1989. We were married on June 10, 1989, four days after my high school graduation and two days before I w...