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I was born on October 3, 2000 in Salinas, California. I was born to wonderful immigrant parents who continue to work hard in order for me to have an awesome life. I have three fabulous sisters that I love and sometimes hate. When I was young, I was not able to explore the world outside of East Salinas. Both of my parents were scared to go out of Salinas and they also didn’t have enough time since they had to work in strenuous jobs. I instead created my own world in my backyard with my pets and homemade swing. In my backyard I had chicks and chickens, ducks, a peacock, and a pup named Cassandra. My swing was just a thick lazo that hung over a tree branch; I used a sweater so that I wouldn’t feel the pressure of the lazo when I sat. From kindergarten …show more content…
During my junior year in high school I was informed that for the first year in Alisal they provided us with a program called Worldstrides. Worldstrides is an educational program that gives students an opportunity to travel around the world and learn new things that they aren’t able to experience in real life. I knew that I had to take this opportunity since I had the desire to travel the world outside my hometown knowing that it can finally become true. I registered with some of my friends so that I could have a good time having fun with my them. The day of the trip came and I was excited but also worried because I had never gotten on a plane. I got more nervous because I knew that the flight was going to take 12 hours. I asked one of my friends to tell me when the plane was going through turbulence because I didn’t know what it felt like. During the flight, I was calmed watching a movie when suddenly The plane started shaking, it felt like if I were in a rollercoaster ride but worse because I was not ready for it. I was looking for my friend to ask him what is but he wasn’t there, he was in the restroom. I was so frightened and was trembling so much that I bet I made the plane shake even more. I heard the pilot say in the speakers that we were going through some turbulence. Once it stopped I fell
I was born in the Dominican Republic, November 2, 1982. I lived and grew up in a countryside where everybody knew each other. My childhood years were full of wonderful experiences where I felt loved by my parents and my family. I went to school around 6 years old. I had to walk around 30 minutes to get there from my house. My father was a farmer who had to work long hours in order to sustain our big family. My mother was a housewife; she was in charge of taking care of us. I have five siblings, three boys and two girls. I remember that at that time we did not have many things in our house. We did not have electricity and also we did not have a service of water. I remembered that my father had to go to the river to get water for the necessities of the house. At that time my family was very poor, but my
I was born on September 15th, 1999 in a small town called Watervliet, MI. I was the first born out of three children, and the only girl. Growing up as the oldest and the only girl in a traditional Mexican family was definitely not the easiest thing to deal with. My parents have always been strict with me, which I believe has shaped me to be a responsible woman. I have two younger brothers who are 15, and 10 years old.
I was born in Guanajuato, Mexico in Oct, 1994 to a young couple named Jovita and Miguel. I was raised in the country side, in a small town in the big state of Guanajuato, Mexico. I am one on the three children in my family to be exact I’m the middle one in my family. I have my brother Rolando he is the older one and I have a little sister Karen. My parents don’t have so much education they barely finished middle school in Mexico. My mother drop out of middle school because at that time she had to work to help my grandparents at home. Because my grandparents had my mother and other older uncles also drop out school to start working to bring some extra money to the house. My father also drop out of middle school to star working in the ranch that my other grandparents had with Cows ,Pigs ,Chickens and the growth of corn, and wheat.
However, the nightmare wasn’t over. They got us on the plane at about 2a.m because the plane wasn’t ready. I couldn’t get on the plane because I kept buzzing when I passed the medal detectors, so that took another 20 minutes. Then we are on the plane and the plane isn’t moving, and we are waiting and waiting and no explanation. After a while the plane begins to move. It when around the run way and then they tell us we must get of the plane. It needed more service repairs. At this point I’m like give me my money back, and in return they call the cops because we were making to much noise. They fix the problem around 5:30a.m and we are off again. Keep in mind we haven’t eaten and no food was given. I didn’t even get water. I thought this was a sign of god and my time had come for me to die, but I made it there in one piece.
A couple of weeks ago, the class was assigned a personal narrative essay and the prompt was to tell an interesting story of a specific experience that changed how you acted, thought, or felt. To be honest, I was awfully excited to write this essay because talking about myself is the easiest thing to write about sometimes. However, deciding what experience to talk about was challenging because I have already experienced so much in my seventeen years of being alive from dislocating my hip when I was three, to seeing my grandfather die in front of my eyes, from almost tripping off of the trail on the Grand Canyon, to meeting band members at an airport. Writing this essay brought me many challenges, I did not know what topic to choose, I had no
Personal narratives allow you to share your life with others and vicariously experience the things that happen around you. Your job as a writer is to put the reader in the midst of the action letting him or her live through an experience. Although a great deal of writing has a thesis, stories are different. A good story creates a dramatic effect, makes us laugh, gives us pleasurable fright, and/or gets us on the edge of our seats. A story has done its job if we can say, "Yes, that captures what living with my father feels like," or "Yes, that’s what being cut from the football team felt like."
The day we were leaving to go to the airport, I remember waking up and feeling a bit nauseous. I still had not realized yet that it was actually happening. I remember seeing my grandpa’s frightened face through the car’s window, crying like a child as his daughter and granddaughter were moving to an unknown place. Strangely enough, when we got to the airport we were told that we had missed our flight. This felt like a sign that maybe moving was a bad idea. I let out a huge sigh of relief because I thought that missing the flight indicated that we might decide to not move to Canada. Unfortunately, we booked another flight which was two days later. As we were heading back home from the airport, it all felt like a dream. It was unreal because we were mentally prepared to leave that day and then we missed the flight which made us even more nervous about the whole situation. As we made our way again to the airport for our second flight, I was even more overwhelmed and scared about the move than I was when we left for the first time. When my mom and I passed through security, I turned around and saw my uncle waving and I felt sick to my stomach. It hit me then that it was actually happening and that I was leaving the place and people that I had been most depended on for the last eight
A narrative is a story. In writing a narrative essay, you share with the reader some personal experience of your own in order to make a point or convey a message. You may choose to tell how your grandfather influenced your desire to become an orthodontist, or perhaps you’ll relate the story of the time you didn’t make the cut for the basketball team. Whatever story you tell, your purpose is to share with others some experience that has taught you something or changed you somehow.
I was born in Escondido, California on March 10th, 1998 to my amazing parents Dennis and Brandi Shenenberger. My parents have always liked to say that I’ve been difficult even before I was born due to the fact my mother had to be put on long-term bed rest to prevent her from going into pre-term labor. Since I was the oldest child and the second oldest grandchild on both my maternal and paternal side I was undoubtedly spoiled as a child.
My name is Katelyn Sandoval, I was born in Dallas, TX. I am 21 years old, full-time student at Tarrant County College. I am the oldest of three sisters. I am also married to my husband Jose; we have two beautiful kids named Joshua he is a year and a half and Susana is 7 months. I love to spending time with my kids, they have changed completely my perspective of how I view the world. I grew up motivating myself, and no matter what I faced, I have educated myself to hustle through the issues, life can bring. I give thanks to God, that I have been successful in everything that I have accomplished thus far, and I have established more goals and dreams in my life, that I am determine to fulfill.
I was born in 1942 and grew up in a little two-bedroom house on Russell Street in Vallejo, California, just a block away from Steffan Manor School. It was a great neighborhood, full of fine families and lots of kids. My first best friend was Richard “Richie” Gunderson who lived just up the hill on Russell. For a long time it seemed that we were inseparable. We’d see each other almost every day and I don’t remember ever being bored.
There is very little mystery to writing the personal narrative essay. There is no proper topic for such an essay. An essay can be about a variety of personal experiences. You, the writer, have the right to say what you want about your personal experience. You can write about anything -- Aunt Sally, the funky necklace you bought at a garage sale, the harrowing experience of being stuck in an elevator, the best Christmas you ever had, the worst day of your life. No topic or subject is off-limits; therefore there are endless opportunities to write an essay about your personal, point-of-view of what happened. Often the reason behind wanting to write a personal essay is unclear. Once the writing begins and the events are recorded and recounted it becomes clear that the writer is searching to find the meaning, the universal truth, the lesson learned from the experience. When writing, rewriting and good editing coalesce, a personal narrative essay becomes a beautiful thing. It shows how the past or a memory’s significance affects the present or even the future.
“I’m sorry,” words I often say too much. It is like admitting defeat to the situation. Though I believe what I did was not wrong, they say I have to apologize. I want to protest but I need to show remorse and that it will not happen again. I have apologized so much that I don’t even mean it anymore. I forget that it is supposed to be sincere and real but when I say it means nothing. The feelings have gone away and I’m like a broken record apologizing for everything I did wrong. Before I believed that you were only supposed to apologize when you mean it but I just apologize to get out of trouble. There was an incident in my fifth-period class. It started with me trying to help a classmate to understand the work we were given. The teacher kept telling me to turn around
I was born in Evanston and raised in two cities that go by Rogers Park and Waukegan. These three cities both are in the wonderful state of Illinois. I don't come from much from our first apartment that only had 1 bedroom and five people shared that room. I remember staying in does dark chocolate boxes, waiting for dad to come from his minimum wage job. As my mom was working with the all those spicy flavored, the whole apartment was turned converting into my ancestors old village. Just like in Rogers park, my life would be a quite unexpected. In the early 2000s ,I was a crazy whopper snapper but little did I know this would make an impact in my life. As the summer air and the dandelion field, scented the whole area , I would minutes later be rushed to the hospital. Momma had to go and clean her tan face , mom always cared about her physical appearance, and as the pot was cooling , I rushed to play by the table just to have a pot of volcanic noodles pour all over me and splash goes the pot. Momma came running to the room and put me in the arctic cold water. Wow! Momma was my hero
The crisp, cold November air hit me like a truck as I opened the library doors, making an overdue exit after practically two hours of studying.