It was my last high school summer, and I couldn't wait to get out of school to relax with my fiends. Unfortunately, this was not the case when summer finally came around. For months my mom had been asking me to get a job. I had been putting it off, saying how easy it would be to get one, since during the summer teenagers can always get hired. Or so I thought. Weeks passed, and after applying to more than ten companies, I still didn’t have a job. A month into the summer, I finally got a call back from Richland Country Club to work as an assistant groundskeeper on the golf course maintenance crew. When I showed up on my first day of work at 5 a.m., I could instantly tell my summer was going to be a disaster! I joined a team of thirty and immediately
My heart was beating and my hands were sweating. My teacher asked me a question and I wanted to cry. I didn’t know how to say my response in English and was afraid of the other kids making fun of me because I thought my accent was too strong. All the students stared. “Just answer the question” one girl murmured. Every day I’d sit in the same seat without talking. And even though I had spent a month in the same classroom I felt uncomfortable being there. I moved to the United States from the Dominican Republic when I was twelve. I knew the word for “mariposa” was “butterfly,” and I knew how to introduce myself, but that was about all. Some people would even become frustrated due to the fact they couldn’t understand me, or the other way around. Knowing how they felt about me not being able to communicate made me want to shut myself off from them.
This article got me thinking. I had face situation in my life that because of my bad grammar I had let go of great opportunities. English is my second languish and I thought that as long as I knew the basic I would be ok in life. But as I got older I started seeing the pattern of negatives effects of my insecurity of grammar. My return to college open my eyes to a better potential in life just by continually a proper college education. When reading this article the wheels of my brain started spinning. The first image that pop in my head, was my children trying to mimic all the YouTubers online with their in style vocabulary. Then two little boys appear in my head, two little boys that I saw ones about 10 years ago for about 10mn. I have forgotten them, until
People tend to take their legs for granted. While the other girls in my school were fawning over the football players’ muscles, or their perfect hair, I was jealous of their legs. Their functional legs. It's pretty crazy to think of a 15-year-old learning how to walk, but that’s exactly where I was. In a gym full of colorful mats and loud children, all I could focus on was the heavy Polish accent of my physical therapist urging me to trust myself. I took three whole steps. I started to get over confident, thinking that I could walk way more than someone who had a three-year gap in their walking practice should. I took four more steps. I looked up at my therapist for reassurance and a slight nod of her head encouraged me to keep going. Left.
While working as a healer, I began picking up on the causes of my client's illness or injuries. I would know things that the client hadn't told me, And often times they themselves hadn't even considered. Once the information had been discussed with the client, the pain from the trauma would go completely away.
I was raised in rural wyoming where hunting was not only tradition, but a way of life. Since I could walk I had been accompanying my dad on all varieties of hunts. My father did all that was possible to pass on the knowledge and lessons needed for me to become a responsible hunter and man. However, there are some lessons that can only be learned through personal experience. They are often the ones of moral and ethical decisions. My sophomore year of high school I committed the hunting mistake most outstanding in my mind.
Former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright once said, “As a leader, you have to have the ability to assimilate new information and understand that there might be a different view.” The statement seems simple enough, but in order to fully appreciate it, an understanding of a fairly uncommon word is required. This word is assimilation. Though at first glance assimilation doesn’t appear to be too daunting a term, its diverse definitions play a significant role in more domains than many would initially anticipate.
I can divide life into two parts: The part before I went to the temple and the part afterwards. I suppose everyone could do that. On September 19, 1998, I went to the temple for my own endowments. I read my journal entry from that time and it did not do justice to what I actually experienced at the temple. I went through so many emotions and had so many questions answered that I had kept to myself.
The sun shone on the lake, reflecting across the calm waters. Families were enjoying their afternoon as gentle winds passed by. Children stumbled on the sand and shallow waters as they tried to catch tadpoles with their buckets. My dad, little sister, and I were all set to take on our first wilderness adventure; canoeing across a lake. I began to imagine myself steering the boat. Left side. Push, push, push. Right side; push, push, push. Repeating this in my mind and moving the paddle through the air, I felt confident. We climbed in canoe, and with a slight push from the back, we were off.
Our values and beliefs unconsciously determine how we look, listen, and react to an individual child. My image of a child transforms over the years, hence my culture, past experiences and modern practice shaped this image, and it keeps changing while evolving with new perspective every passing day. Believing that every child deserves respect the same way as an adult emphasizing the need to pause for a moment to actively listen, make me perceives children in a completely new angle. Moreover, every child should feel valued and able to express their point of view without any hesitation.
As a child, when I got upset my response used to cry and refuse to talk. Now a day as adult, I don't cry that often, but I have the patter of maintain salient, so I grow up keeping that behavior with me. The first time I suffered anxiety of separation was when I started school; I do remember those first day clearly. I cried very loud, I got frustrate, and I didn't want to come back to school. This first week was terrible for me, for my mother, and also for my teacher. Fortunately, my teacher was very professional and keep calm. My mother tried to talk to me, and explain that she had to leave, but she come back for me at noon. When I was a child I was not very good at making friend; even though I was a friendly girl, I had to deal with that
Excited. Nervous. Determined. Those three words perfectly describe how I was feeling my first day of college. The enrollment process was rigorous for me, but with the encouragement and support from my boyfriend, I was able to finish submitting the required paperwork by the school's deadline. After all of that was over with, I could finally begin a whole new chapter of my life that I had never visioned for myself. None of my family members have attended college, I was going to be the first one. This means, I was showing up for my first class completely mentally unprepared. I was unaware of what to expect for my first semester at Ocean County College.
When you look back on your life, what do you remember most? Personal achievements fade from memory as you age; setbacks and failures aren’t there; arguments argue their existence away; simple daily tasks blend together and take care of themselves. Only one thing remains – moments of fulfilment. Some things make you feel pure joy, but you wouldn’t want to do them again. Fulfillment is different. It’s when you’re so unbelievably happy you could do that same thing over and over again for the rest of your life.
At a young age, I remember vividly asking my parents before my first ever baseball game, “Are you coming to watch me today?” My parents responded with a frown on their face, “No, we can’t be there today. Ask a parent if they can drop you off at home.” That was it.
Ever since I can remember, I had always marveled at what was beyond the capacity of many to understand. No, not politicians. I mean an existing plane beyond the one we are physically constricted to; the far reaches of our universe. I recall when I was a very young, how I could gaze up at the constellations. I was completely dumbfounded by how there possibly could be all of those mysterious lights dotting the pitch black night sky. How could these luminous orbs be, in fact, farther than I could ever travel in my lifespan. As I lay upon the grass looking up into the sky, I knew that I was destined to do something to improve our scope of understanding the “final frontier.”
When I was a boy, I was always happy and was a bright student. I was always eager to learn something new and I always gave my best effort at whatever I did, all the while helping my peers to learn in a fun and creative way. One summer during elementary school, my parents sat me down on my living room couch and delivered the worst news a little boy could hear: my best friend had drowned at a birthday party that I was getting ready to go to. I was different from that point on, seemingly forever. I became unhappy, yet I was still a bright kid, but I lost my ability to self-motivate. My parents tried to help me as best they could, which led to them sheltering me throughout high school. I felt suffocated by their actions, even though they had my best interests in mind.