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Concluesion on effects of divorce on children
Effects divorce has on children
The effect of divorce on children
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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. …show more content…
We ended up in the same class together; however, we still never really talked. I never really knew how to talk to him. He was always a nerdy kid talking about Mario with another kid with the same name. I always giggled at the fact that the two boys with the same name always sat together and talked about the same thing almost every day. There was, however, one day where they didn’t sit together. That day, the entire second grade class went on a field trip to American Adventure Foam Factory. We sat together the entire bus ride there, talking and giggling. We even hung out during almost the entire trip. We had fun until one of the older teachers stepped on a ball and fell and broke her arm. We had a lovely trip that
Father, computer server engineer, alcoholic, and felon. My dad, Jason Wayne DeHate, has influenced my life, not only genetically, but he has also improved my character and creativity throughout the years. Beginning at age two, I was cultured with profanity spit from rappers such as Eminem. While my mother was at work we had multiple videotaped “jam sessions” and coloring time that allowed for the foundation of friendship we have today. The jam sessions consisting of me mumbling and stumbling in front of the television, as he was “raising the roof” from his lazyboy. Since then, he has taught me how to rollerblade, change wiper blades, and play my favorite sport, tennis. Along with influencing my leisure activities and the music I enjoy, his prominent personality allows me to grow as a person. Being the only male figure in my immediate family, I
During my first few weeks, I met a student named Joseph. He towered over me at 6-foot-4 and weighing 300 pounds. At first, I didn't know what to expect from him.I was surprised to learn he had failed the 9th grade twice and with this being his third try he was in the same grade as his younger brother, Jason. Joe and I became friends fast. I was treated differently because of my skin color but Joe did not judge me. Through students chit-chatter, I learned Joe was very popular and on the football team but had unexpectedly quit his first year. Joe struggled with his classes especially in English and Mathematics. One day in English, another kid was struggling to read a passage aloud, the classroom was filled with snickers and the teacher made the poor kid continue. After class, Joe comforted the kid and made him smile. That was his talent,, he had the ability to make people feel better.
I walked into the house where the "party of the century" was going to be held. I was psyched to be going. At the time I was a little naive freshman invited to my first official high school party at a senior’s house. I was at the party no more than 30 minutes when this boy offered me a drink. Thinking nothing of it, I agreed. He brought back a half-filled cup.
The next day, I was at your door in the morning. We walked to school together, and it was as if nothing had ever happened.
It was the day after our 15th wedding anniversary. We packed his belongings into a rented truck while the children were at school. We called the children down to the kitchen. My daughter had been on a school trip and my son was home from school wondering why I had such a somber face. Sitting at the kitchen table, knowing that every word said, will be solidified like concrete, into the memories of the children. The horror of delivering the news that you are now going to be one of “those” families. One of the families that you have discussed with sadness and assured your children that it would never happen to them. It was quiet for the length of time it takes for everyone to start looking around and questioning
I’ve been utterly alone in a sea of people before. In my mind, even though there are people all around me, something is separating me from them. A wall my anxiety has conjured to keep me from letting people into my life. Whether it be because I’m new or feel like I can’t relate to those around me, it’s present. Every time I came close to another person, there was something blocking me from creating a deeper connection with them.
In seventh grade, my mom and dad were getting a divorce. Through the divorce, my step grandma dragged my dad to my grandpa’s side and tore my mom and her family relationships apart. However, the situation eventually simmered down. My dad let go of his bitterness, mom married the man who sparked the need for a divorce, and Jaja, with my cousin’s persistent persuasion, calmed down. Eventually, mom allowed us visit Jaja (our name for our grandpa) again. Yet, once we walked in, Jaja started yelling at mom and kicked her out of the house. Later, Jaja, my sister, Melanie, and I were going to sit down and eat, when all of a sudden mom’s new husband barged through the door. He started to yell at Jaja, dragged my sister and me out of the house, and drove us away.
My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.
Recently, I had a conversation with my ex-husband/father of my children. A conversation that I went into with the full knowledge that there may be some anger, hurt feelings, and possibly an argument. The conversation had played out in my head dozens of times over the last six months, but it didn't make it any easier to approach out loud. The best approach was to remain calm, be honest and chose my words carefully. Taking a deep breath I asked him to consider allowing my husband to become our children's legal guardian or to allow him to adopt them. Panic set in the minute the question left my mouth and my heart raced as I waited for his response.
I was born June 4, 1982 to a single mother. I have a sister that is 16 months older than me. We lived in Stanly County, NC. I remember meeting my dad for the first time when I was 5 years old. My sister and I had every other weekend visitation with him. There were some weekends that we would sit on our porch and wait on our dad but he would never come. My brother was born when I was 9 ½ years old. When I was 12 years old, we moved to an apartment complex in Concord, NC. We spent a year in Concord, then moved back to Stanly County. I was doing good in school until my 10th grade year. I dropped out of school at the age of 16 years old. When I was 18 years old I met this really cool guy, Rich, that was 21. We had mutual friends and had even went
“The team is a body when one part of the body fails to complete its task the entire body suffers.” That's exactly what my father told my entire basketball team before one of our biggest basketball games was about to begin. My father was my first coach and he always preached accountability and being a man of character. Those words he spoke to me had such a strong impact on my life. Going to practice day in and day out was tough; however, once I recognized that I wasn’t just playing for myself it made the hassle more bearable. Having my father as my coach had its pros and cons, I enjoyed the idea of my Dad being the coach; it was cool and provided many hours of bonding. Though the downside was that it always seemed to be more personal when
My anxiety came a few weeks after my parents divorced, not a great time, if it was up to me, I would prefer to forget about that time and the following couple of years, but I can't. I didn't understand everything, didn't see everything clearly. Being ten years of age and trying to figure out adult words, arguements, it can be quite challenging. Every divorces may cause a trauma to the children, some kids grow up faster, others rebel against everyone and everything. I was in the growing up too fast category. I had to take on responsibilities that weren't mine to take, I had to learn how to be a "mother" before I knew what junior high was all about. I've always told myself, there's always worse than yourself on this planet. Some don't get to sleep in a bed, others can't even find food or fresh water. Complaining about it all didn't seem right, but I was still affected by the consequence of the divorce. A couple months after my mother seperated my father, things turned into a living nightmare, my father isn't the best on the planet, sometimes I wish he wasn't my father, I actually don't even have contacts with him anymore, not that he tries anything or care about me either. My mother's divorce wasn't the cause, but the consequences following the processedure, my father's behavior made me have anxiety, panic attakcs.
dream what you love, and love what you do”, but seldom had I thought I’d genuinely be seeing the nuts and bolts, loose in my minds’ late-night obscurities; so I just went with it.
So one day after school my older brother took me to the gym. After I changed into my gym clothes in the locker room, I sat nervous on the patted mat by the rock climbing tower/boulder waiting for the instructor to walk in and other students to show up. After a few minutes the instructor walked in. She smiled really big, so big that I saw t...
It's your freshman year of high school. You walk through the halls and notice that you can barely find anyone from your freshman class. All you can see are these older kids that you had never noticed before. It feels like everyone is watching your every move. Suddenly you run into an older boy in front of you because you were too busy looking at your feet trying to dodge eye contact. Your books are now on the hallway floor and so are you. You scramble to grab them before anyone notices, but just as you look up you meet eyes with the older boy. He smiles and helps you regain your composure. Then you both walk your separate ways down the hallway.