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Essay on childhood fear
Essay on childhood fear
Personal narrative about senior high school life
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For the first time I know that parents really worried about their kids so much and it is not a joke when I say that parents worried when their kids are missing, or they went somewhere without telling them first, when I was in high school this is when I found out that my parents worried when I don’t tell them where I am going and what I am going to do there. I was in middle school and my parents came to get me from school every day and it was fine until high school. However, when I started high school “I can start walking home or get a job and make some money to buy a car”. So I told my parents “I don’t want a car right now maybe when I finish school I can buy one so my parents were surprised by my design.” Because when I was young all I said that I wanted was a car. So after that, they said, “That even when they are not going to pick me up from school I should be home on time”. It was a normal day in Columbia Missouri outside was hot and it was a day that I had to wake up and get ready to go to school. In the morning when I wake up I would get ready and would take a shower. The water was cold but I didn’t care because outside was hot. I was ready for the day to start, so I finished taking a shower and finished putting on my clothing and I went downstairs where my dad was waiting …show more content…
My parents were crying saying that our son is missing, and he hasn’t come home all day after soccer, so I saw my other brothers came to the school soccer field and I asked them “why are you running this late in the night” and they told me that (I was in tribal and that I needed to go home fast and that my dad was going to beat me whenever I got home” I asked them “why” but they said (go home and find
I yelled at them, ignored them, and occasionally did the opposite they told me too. At the time, I thought that made me better than them, but in the end, it got me nowhere. Soon I entered high school and my bratty preteen-self calmed down. However, my parents became stricter on my grades because there was a big milestone that would be coming up in a few years, getting accepted into college. My parents made it very clear that if I did not get a large scholarship to any university, I would have to go to the local community college. That was the last thing I wanted to happen, I wanted out of the house. I now had a strong incentive to do well in school. I wanted to be able to go out on my own and escape their tight grasp on me. I completed year after year, always making “A’s” in my classes. I soon climbed to the top of my school’s ranking system and was at the top of my class. Though, this did not matter to me, I wanted out of my house. At this point, I knew I was not disappointing my parents, they were as proud as can be with a daughter at the top of her class. This was the first time in my life that I felt as if my parents were generally proud of me and my accomplishments. I still however, felt guilty. Even though I was doing it for myself, I felt bad that I wanted to escape my parents. I did not hate them, I just could not stand being under their control
Halfway through dinner I decided to tell them. “That 's great baby, you know we support you no matter what,” says my Mom. As I bring out the numbers for college tuition, their faces seem to changed from excited to nervous. “I cannot afford that, honey,” says my Dad quietly, being unemployed then. That upset me because I was determined to follow my dreams.
It was 3 a.m., and I could hear the argument downstairs. My parents had to do this at 3 a.m.? I got up, walked around for a minute, and went back to bed- I had school the next day. This became an increasingly common occurrence, almost every other day the fall and winter of junior year. The argument had been more or less the same for the last month, centering around my dad's alcoholism and family's money troubles.
When I turned twenty-two I was excited to purchase my first car, I had been saving for 5 years in order to obtain the car of my dreams. I knew exactly what I wanted, all the “bells and whistles”, and I knew exactly what I was willing to pay and not a penny more. I thought I had a strong knowledge of the sales and pricing of the particular car I was hoping to buy, because I had done my research for weeks browsing and comparing the Sunday car ads. I was assured that my knowledge of the sales would get me a fair price and a great deal. However, my overconfidence and naivety, in the “creepy” sales tactics used by the dealership, made me unaware of the three hour nightmare that was about to ensue; leaving me brokenhearted, angry and vowing to never step foot on a car lot again.
Until the twenty-second of March, I thought my parents were happy with each other and that they would be together for the rest of their lives, but that was not the case. I was given no reason to suspect that anything bad was occurring, but when I came home from school that day everything was revealed. My father told me that he had been wanting to speak to me alone. He looked fearful and bit anxious. I knew this conversation was going to be different from every other talk we have had. He started off with, “Please just listen and give me a chance to explain myself before you judge me.” I had nodded
As I got up this morning my parents where all yippy and happy like my dog when she wants to play. But they were starting to freak me out because while I was eating they were staring at me. Then as I got my stuff and tried to say goodbye they rushed me out but then I realized why, today was the day I go Afghanistan. But also today was the day that my parents leave for the Bahamas I knew they are going to have more fun than me. But I drove my truck down to the airport I thought about how my parents wanted me just to be gone and even when I got on the plane I thought more about the fact. But all of a sudden the plane landed and I reported to camp but I wasn’t to thrilled. I was mad like a bull and people could tell but I wasn’t to worried. Once
When I was younger, living in the south side of Chicago my mom and dad looked after me, my sisters, and my brother. My dad would occasionally drink too much whenever he had money. Sometimes he would get violent reminiscing on his past or the current past-present. One day my mom packed some of our clothes in our book bags. Then she rushed us out into the night. We wondered the streets as children and eventually made our way in to a shelter. We stayed several days and nights. We would visit my mom’s side of the family from time to time just to catch our breaths. Later during our wondering, travels my mom bumps in to an old friend. She fills him in on our situation and he lets us stay with him for a while. The two of them become very acquainted with each other. There is a problem. The building that her friend lives in does not allow children, or so we were told. To make matters worse he sees me and my siblings as a hindrance. We leave the apartment to look for a new place to rest or heads but this time the friend comes along.
All throughout my life there have been ups and downs with my parents life. They haven’t always made the best decision in their pasts and it is affecting us now. From house to house and school to school, it was a long road of situations much like one I first showed. I did not quite understand them all the other times before and my parents did a sneaky job of mak...
Ever since our parents died from a car accident I have been in charge of my brothers Sodapop and Ponyboy. I have learned a lot from this responsibility and I have taken it in a serious matter. My brothers and I are part of a group, they call us the Greasers. Our rival gang is called the Socs, they’re a group of rich kids that have everything. One day my brother Ponyboy went to a drive-in movie with Johnny and Two-Bit, after the movie Ponyboy and Johnny accidentally fell asleep in the lot, my brother Sodapop and I were scared to death that something had happened to Ponyboy. We couldn’t risk losing somebody else in our family. When Ponyboy got home at 2:00 in the morning, I was furious. I don’t know what I was thinking
I wasn’t allowed to go out to the football games or mall and hang out with my friends. That finally changed when I reached my eighth grade year of middle school. I wanted to go to one of the high schools’ rival game with my friends. I asked my dad and of course he told me I couldn’t go. As usual, I became sad and went inside the house. He later came inside and he said, “I’ll give you one chance to see if you will be obedient. I will let you go to the game but I will be there watching you. You better be on your best behavior because this is your first chance so don’t blow it!” I then got dressed and we went to the football game. Once I was there, I did exactly as my father said. The whole game I was standing up by the fence watching it and talking to my friends. When the game was over and we were on the way home, my dad told me I was on my best behavior and that after tonight he would start letting me go more places. I was so ecstatic and even if he wasn’t there I would have still been
Parents need to be a constant part of their children's lives. They need to encourage children to be who they want to be, helping teenagers become their own decision makers by not looking to others. Taking the time to do this will give our children more confidence in themselves and help them grow up to be stronger teenagers and adults.
Naturally, caring parents are worried by all this. Their worry showed in a 2005 national poll in which 76% of parents said that raising children was “a lot harder” than it was when they were growing up (“ A Lot Easier Said”). But just as most popular TV shows don’t give a realistic view of American teens, these frightening books and statistic do not provide a complete picture of what’s going on in families today. The fact is that not all teens and families are lost and without values. While they struggle with problems in our culture like everyone else, successful families are doing what they’ve always done: finding ways to protect and nurture their children. They are fighting the battle for their families in three ways: by fighting against the loss of quality family time, by fighting against the loss of community, and by fighting against the influence of the media.
One beautiful day that summer, I was playing outside with my friends when my mom called for me to come home. I did not want to abandon my guard post at the neighbor's tree house so I decided to disregard her order. I figured that my parents would understand my delima and wouldn't mind if I stayed out for another two or three hours. Unfortunately, they had neglected to inform me that my grandparents had driven in from North Carolina, and we were supposed to go out for a nice dinner. When I finally returned, my father was furious. I had kept them from going to dinner, and he was simply not happy with me. "Go up to your room and don't even think about coming downstairs until I talk to you."
I lived with my father for my entire life, but due to his work I did not spend much time with him. My father worked at a different city; and thus he comes home only a few times a month. My father is a mechanic. He works at a company that is distant from our home. This was due to the company being the only one and the first where cars were being assembled in Ethiopia. Sometimes on the weekends I used to go to his work place. He would give me a trip of the place; the station was filled with vehicles, trucks, and motorcycles. It was separated by sections. In each section there were only one type of vehicle and the assembly process was shown step by step. From a fuse to large engine of the car, components were getting attached.
When I was younger, my father wasn’t around most of the time and when he was there he was always arguing. Being the age I was, it was futile to attempt help my mother. My brother and I scrutinized, and that’s really all children who live through this can do. Though all of this pain was being inflicted upon us, I still loved my father a great deal and didn’t fully understand the situation, but my mindset had changed to one of great fear when I was about 7. I was in the backseat with my younger brother when an argument had broken out between my parents. I don’t exactly remember why they had started arguing, but this time was different than others. It all happened so quickly that it’s a blur, the part I remember as clear as day is when my mother