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Being the older child
Essays on being a older sibling
Being the oldest child
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Even though all of her friends switched schools or moved away, Carol Ventocilla continues to keep her head high. Carol is the same age as my sister, but a good friend to everyone regardless of how old they are. When I first met Carol she was eagerly entering third grade with a huge smile on her face. I was a fifth grade new to the school and I didn’t know anyone. She smiled at me and would have short conversations with me in the halls. My sister, who was in her class, and she became great friends almost immediately, and soon Carol Ventocilla was visiting our house weekly. As our friendship grew we would walk to the library after school together, hang out together, and play outside with each other. The downhill began when my sister, Liz, returned
from school and told me that Audrey, Carol’s best friend, was moving away. Despite location, Carol was determined to keep in touch with Audrey by emailing. Liz and Carol were two peas in a pod when fourth grade began until fifth grade finished. Being the nicest kids in the class, many other people would hang out with them, too. One of the frequent visitor’s names was Nichole. Eventually she transitioned into the group and became the third peak of the pod. Life was going well for Carol! Within one week of each other, Nicole and Liz announced that they would be leaving and going to the public school. Athough deeply saddened, Carol decided that they would communicate via email and would meet at the libary after school somedays. Liz and Carol also had play dates, but less often. At the libaray Carol often says, “I have nobody to do things with at recess and I really miss everybody.”
Through out the Summer, I was back at home with a part time job at a very fancy restaurant and doing Summer school. When the fall came I was all set and registered at the University of Toronto where Mary had teached. No matter where I walked in the school something would remind me of her. I was in a nursing program and that first week I had seen the most beautiful girl alive, she almost looked exactly like Mary. She had long brown hair and big blue eyes, this girl was a one of a kind. I finally grew the nerve to go talk to her. " Hello, how are you?'' I asked. "Good afternoon, I'm good thanks.'' Just the way she talked made me think of her. "My name's Franklin Crabbe, yours?" She looked nervous then responded : " My name's Christina Pallas" Pallas? That was Mary's last name, I wonder if she knew her.
She saw that everyone knew each other and she felt left out, she didn’t want to talk to no one because she knew her Spanish was bad and felt like they might make fun of her. The teacher came in and made everyone present themselves and Leah was the first one the teacher asked to say their name, what school they came from, and what is their favorite hobby. Leah spoke and everyone knew she wasn’t from there because of her accent. She heard some classmates giggle in the corner and heard one of them called her “Gabacha” (foreigner) (American girl). she then turned around and saw the same guy that she saw through the window and notice that they are in the same class. He spoke up to the classmates that were making fun of her and told them not to be rude. After class was over he walked over to her and asked her not to feel bad , he can help her improve her Spanish and Leah just blushed, they soon became friends and graduated high school together and they ended up
This story is about racial discrimination between the Mexicans and the Americans. Clemencia, who is a Mexican-American, is straddling two different cultures. Bitterness and resentment in Clemencia causes her to behave in a rebellious and destructive way. Due to her mother's influences and the day her mother abandons the family for white men which fuel her resentment against the white and she also share her negative feelings towards the Mexican race by refusing to get romantically involved with Mexican men and commits adultery with married white men.
Writing in the 20th century was great deal harder for a Chicano then it was for a typical American at this time. Although that did not stop this author, Sandra Cisneros. One of her famous novels, Woman Hollering Creek was a prime example of how a combined culture: Mexican-Americans, could show their pride and identity in this century. In conjunction, gave the opportunity for women to speak their voice and forever change the culture of Latino/a markets. Not only did it express identity/gender roles of women and relationships, but using these relationships to combine the cultures of Mexican and American into a hybrid breed. This novel, should have been a view-point for the future to show that there is more to life than just gender and race. Concluding this, the articles that helps define this is “The Latino/a Canon and the Emergence of Post-Sixties Literature” and “What is called Heaven”.
Even though our team, “The Stingers”, eventually changed to “The Velocity”, one girl, Christina, was always there for me and continues to be by my side today. Through playing on the same soccer team for nine seasons, we developed a bond that will not easily be broken. We can look at each other and just start laughing for no reason. I know all of her drama and she knows mine. Our mutual trust that was developed on the soccer field has branched into every aspect of our lives. I know I can turn to her at any moment and she will quit whatever she is doing and come to my rescue. Likewise, she knows I will always be there to help her through any situation, no matter how difficult it may be. Recently, when Christina received the heart wrenching news that her mom has breast cancer, I stood right by her side to help her through it. She was able to lean on me for support when it was too overwhelming for her to handle on her own. When she needed to get away from the stresses of her mom’s health, we would hang out and just talk for hours on end. Similarly, when my relationship with a mutual friend was struggling, Christina was there to help me get through it. She encouraged me to stay strong and continue to treat our friend with respect even though she neglected me and our decade of friendship.
I was strolling down the hallway, trying to figure out where my class would be, when I bumped into a girl. “Oh goodness! I am so sorry. I wasn 't looking," she said and bent down to grab my file and books even before I could. I sighed and replied, “No, it 's fine." I wiped the sweat, which I had accumulated from walking all over the school, off my forehead. She stood up and handed me my books. I realized she was also a freshman by her orange colored uniform. She flipped her hair and said while grinning," Let me introduce myself. I 'm Natasha. I 'm from Canada so I don 't really know much about this town. How about you?" Even though I had never met her before, I could tell she seemed nice so I introduced myself. I had to make a judgment to decide whether to befriend the girl or not. Little did I know this stranger was
Sandra Cisneros’s short story “Eleven” brilliantly characterizes the immature, shy, and insightful Rachel and illustrates her rejecting attitude towards the sweater, which represents the transition from her adolescence into adulthood.
During the past few days, many of our friends and family have come to our home to show their love for us and for Arlyn. I have been especially moved by the fact so many of her teachers and principals have shown up and cried with us. I am also touched by the love her young friends had for her. Our memories of this sad time in our lives will therefore not all be bad.
Clairee was the perfect seller to his pitch. Even he almost believed it was true when that feigned look of horror marred her face once she tainted her own visage with blood. The lurch act came as a surprise. But then, they should've been ready to play any role the circumstances put them into, and as expected, she aced the role quite brilliantly. There's going to be stories about this ... If they make it out in one piece.
We met when we were young, five I think. Our mothers knew each other long before we did, that's how we became close. On my twelfth birthday I asked her if she considered me as a friend, she looked at me and laughed with that incredible smile of hers and said “I wouldn't ask for anything more”. We were best friends ever sense. It was our tenth year when I knew that I loved her. She was beautiful, the way her chestnut hair draped just above the small of her back. When looking into her eyes you feel as if you can see into her soul and her yours, her grey eyes never
November 12, 1994 marks the day when I, Gabriela Aceves, was welcomed, with open arms into this cruel and beautiful world. I was greeted by two loving parents, Silvia and Jose, three crazy sisters, Vanessa, Daisy, Stephanie, and Jose my kind brother. I grew up in a loving home. Never did I ever feel unloved nor unappreciated. We were all very close, so close that we would constantly take family vacations together. Our hunger for adventure took us to Florida, California, Colorado, Nevada, Arizona, the list is endless. My father, Jose was a hardworking brilliant man whose presence would be felt whenever he would walk into a room, he was loved and hated by many for his success in both his career and family. My mother Silvia was always a nurturing and supportive housewife she and I were much alike in both our looks and personality. I loved both of them very much I couldn’t have asked for better parents. Even though they were much older than me not once did I ever feel excluded from my siblings ' life. Vanessa,the oldest was the kind of woman who never let
We met at Astor Place. I said hello, she said hi. Her face was the same as I remembered. It was a Sunday afternoon in autumn, and the wind made her cheeks rosy. She smiled curiously. Looking back, maybe it was less the wind and more the circumstances. It had been quite sometime since our last encounter, two months, if my memory served me.
One quiet summer afternoon I lay gazing into the big, blue sky watching the clouds form into immense moving objects that catch my eye for a second. I saw everything from birds to alligators and occasionally a car or bus. While staring at the sky in a world of my own I heard a clamor coming from the front of the house. I turned over on my stomach peering through the tall pampas grass that landscapes our backyard. I lay gazing through the grass as if I was a jungle cat searching for its next victim. I could not see anything so I faced the sky, once again, and enjoyed the sights and sounds of summer. I was in a daydream when I opened my eyes to see a young redheaded girl with skinned up and pig tails peering down upon me. Most of my friends would have run off yelling, "girl alert or "cooties" but I just sat there in the soft turf grass in a daze. From that second on I believe that both of would be friends for a lifetime. April moved into the vacant house that was two houses to the east of my house. It was a tall, two-story house in which I could see the entire house from my bedroom window. We spent our days together exploring the woods, riding bikes, and catching bugs. Our families were very close and often said that the two of us were like brother and sister. One calm summer night April and I climbed to the top of the garage and lay on our backs staring at the thousands of stars in the black summer sky. The garage wasn't tall; in fact, it was perfect because we could sit up there without worrying about sliding off. That night we talked about everything that was on our minds. I will never forget that night because it was so beautiful outside. The tree frogs and crickets were performing their evening melodies, and the man on the moon was looking down upon us. After talking for nearly an hour we decided that it was time we should head home. I walked April to her house because I she had to be home before I did. As I was leaving April guaranteed me that she would be over first thing in the morning to start our day of fun.
Bonnie the secretary introduced me to my new teacher. As Mrs. Bonnie was leaving the room, my new teacher Mrs. Evaheart introduced me to the class. As I stared at the class I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. I wanted to go back to my old school where I had friends, knew almost everyone, a place where I didn’t feel lonesome, a place anywhere but here. As I saw each and every one of my new classmates faces the utter dread that I felt slowly began to fade as I saw a familiar face. Seeing one of my former friends give me a renewed hope that maybe being in this school won’t be so bad after
Almost at the age of seven, I made a friend named Dani. I liked being with her because she was always smiling. We played together and giggled a lot. Sometimes, she’d randomly dance, spin around, or run away alone, but I never cared or wondered why. One day, there were these older kids pointing and laughing at her. I skipped up to them. “Dani’s my friend,” I blurted out happily. They laughed even harder.