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Personality and academic performance
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Growing up, my father’s absence played a major factor in my stride for success. His absence was the scapegoat for why I always felt like I may not be good enough – or why I’d be looked at as an outcast. I’ve always made it my first priority to overcome his negligence by attempting to do my best in school – earning good grades, joining school clubs, giving back to the community. However, never did I receive the recognition I’ve always dreamed of and never was I satisfied with my outcome, but never did I think that I would find through the one who seized it all. It all began on a typical day in Spanish class. I remember being called to the office, wondering, “What have I done?” and “Why would they need me?” not realizing this had not been for
my mistakes. They informed me that a lawyer was here to see me and that lawyer informed me that he was there in the discussion of my dad. He asked me a lot of question to later explain that my father, someone that I thought of as a stranger, had requested custody of me. The feeling was all bittersweet, I thought it’d be great to get to know my dad, but another part of me was content with the space he established. From then on, I learned a lot more about my rights and laws that an average 14-year-old had known about. It was rather interesting to me and I always found myself becoming rather engaged in what was going on around me. This foundation of law in my early years developed a fondness in this career field where I saw myself obtaining recognition, while also helping others obtain their own. I envisioned myself being satisfied with an outcome of personal success in this field. Finding satisfaction when I had never thought I could fuel me to push for my dreams, and I’ve made it my first priority to do so. My education has always been essential to my success and a solution to my father’s negligence. I’ve come to believe that my only clarification is self-satisfactory – and I have made it my first priority to achieve this. As a result of this, I tend to ponder and will do whatever it takes to convince the admissions office that I will not be a disappointment, for I am control in whatever the future may hold.
My step-father influenced me to be successful. He and I had a real father-daughter relationship since he helped my mom immigrate. My life was fine until he became disabled and unresponsive.
Most people would see growing up without a father as troublesome, lonely, pitiful, and hard. Well, for the most part it’s true; it could certainly be all of these things at times, but other times you forget that people even have fathers until you go to a friend’s house, or a cousin’s house and look at their big, happy, prosperous family. Or when someone in the desk next to you is talking to their table-neighbor, standing by the cubbies, in the bathroom stall, talking about what their “daddy” just bought them. One time, I made a friend. She was adopted, and she had no parents and that was when I knew that I didn’t have it as bad as I very well could have. I grew up with a mom who worked herself to the bone day-by-day at a fast-food restaurant,
He makes me feel like I am like none-other, but not in a respectable manner. I remember his eyes, lifeless and dark. His smile had a revengeful look upon it, his canine teeth set in his mouth as if her were a vampire. His heart was cold and full of hate. I remember some of the memories as if they were yesterday. His words would cut me through me faster and deeper then any scalpel could. He smelled of cigarettes and coffee on a daily basis, but tried to always cover the smell with the horrendous Brut cologne.
The people who I look up to is my mom and my dad. Ever since I was born, they helped me with my problem that I have. Every day after school my mom would help me with my homework, because most of the time I don’t understand my assignment, that she knew how to do some math work, because I would forget how to answer my math, while my dad is at work. On his days off me and my dad would sometimes go fishing in the river or a lake, because he would like to spend time with. Other times we would go hunting for deer or bird, because it would be boring if we didn’t do
Losing my dad, at a young age is one the event that still upset me even up to this day. The devastating thing about my lost is that, I don't have any memory of him. I know people keep telling me that I lost a father, but I really don't understand how it feels to lose someone close to me. There were days that I missed having a father, but without a memory of him made it sometimes easier to bare. Other times, it's difficult for me to think about him, because I have no memories of him and I want something to remain me of him. Losing him and living in a refuge camp for 11years, changed my worldview from having a loving God to not having a God. All those years, I thought God did not love my family. I asked myself so many questions, like way will
When I was a young child, my dad was my idol and hero. He seemed to know everything and had the solution to every problem. Any difficulty I had, anything I didn’t understand, my dad had the answer to everything. It seemed like it was every day that he taught me a new valuable life lesson and always had wise advice to share. My dad used to work all day long in Boston and my brother and I would wait by the door to greet him with a crushing hug as soon as he came home. I used to wait eagerly for my dad to come to my room to read me a bedtime story and then tuck me into bed. My dad could do no wrong. He was right about everything and knew how to deal with anything. However, as I grew older, my convictions changed and the image I had of my dad fragmented.
My father was always there for me, whether I wanted him to be or not. Most of the time, as an adolescent trying to claim my independence, I saw this as a problem. Looking back I now realize it was a problem every child needs, having a loving father. As hard as I tried to fight it, my dad instilled in me the good values and work ethic to be an honest and responsible member of society. He taught me how to be a good husband. He taught me how to be a good father. He taught me how to be a man. It has been 18 years since my father’s death, and I am still learning from the memories I have of him.
A Defining Moment with Dad My father is a gentle and polite person with an impressive career and sporting background. However, he has had to endure a form of early-onset dementia for well over a decade. His prime caregiver is my mother, who we believe has managed to slow my father’s deterioration by keeping him mentally stimulated with a pre-arranged activity every day of the week. Of course, this strategy also cares for my mother, as it gives me peace of mind that my father has a reason to get up each day.
When I was in first grade, my parents went through a horrible divorce. I switched out of the private school that my dad worked at, to a public school in my city. I was suddenly the new girl with no friends, and a family life in which I wanted to stay away from. That was also the year I had unknowingly met the greatest friend I could possibly be blessed with. We met in gym class half way through the year. He saw me from across the gym and decided he wanted to impress me. We were in the middle of the coaches’ indoor version of field hockey, with added obstacles, and he thought that if he kicked the ball around, it would impress me. In the midst of his kicking around, he ran right into one of the coaches. He had to sit out the rest of the class period. Unfortunately, we didn’t see each other again until the next year.
The last argument that I was involved in was with my father regarding work. My father has run a successful carpet cleaning business for the past 30 years and I am lucky enough to have him work with me when it comes to work and school, he provides me with a very flexible schedule.
It has been twelve years since my father passed away. To this day I live with guilt from my mother that I did not become a fisherman like she had wanted. I went to university and became a professor at Midwestern University in Illinois. I like to think that at least I made my father happy. He had wanted me to go to school and get an education because he had never had an opportunity to. From a young age he had been a fisherman just like his father and my grandpa’s father. It was the norm to be a fisherman from where I’m from in Port Hawkesbury which is on the Cape Breton Island.
When I go to sleep at night, do you care? Do you even miss us? Your bottles and mistress I need to know, I need to know why are you walking away. Was it something I did? Did I make a mistake? I was raised by my mother for the majority of my infant years the reason is because my father left before I was born. He went missing for a few years and we didn’t know how he was or if he even was alive, I remember thinking to myself, if my father ever thought of us while he was “missing”. One faithful day out of the blue we received an old crusted letter and it was from my father stating that he was no longer in Mexico and was inside the United States. “What on Earth was he doing there”, I thought to myself. Over the course of my beginning years I didn’t
My dad’s parents would always take me and my brother places, one of the best things was going to the Oceanside pier and looking at what fishermen caught in their buckets. I seem to spend a lot more time with my dad’s side of the family because for one they live next to me unlike my mom’s side of the family. Every year we have a Knott’s Berry Farm get away for the weekend with all the family and during summer we all go camping together for a week. Even when I was little we had family vacations and we would all go down to Mexico and camp on the beach. I was looking at old pictures and I found a picture of me and this little girl it turns out she was just a little girl who lived in Mexico that I would play with. The interesting thing about this
I remember my father as a man who worked hard, cared for his family and taught many lessons without intending to do so. He was well respected in our neighborhood. People gravitated toward him. Most of the time he was a good natured man who told entertaining stories of his youth and growing up during the 1930’s in the segregated south, or stories about his Army service in Italy and North Africa during World War II. He was not to be disrespected nor his kids subjected to unfairness or threat of harm. That would set him off. He could unleash a venom laced tirade filled with threats of violence though I have never seen him lay a hand on anyone.
My father is one of the greatest men that I know. He has been my guide me since the beginning. I ask him for help and advice up to this day. I will never be half the man that my father is.