Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
Factors affecting time management for students
Negative effects of curfews
Negative effects of curfews
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: Factors affecting time management for students
When I was 14 years old, in ninth grade of high school, I loved spending time with friends. The only problem was I didn't really get along with many of my classmates or the kids in my neighborhood. I had to find friends in other places, so I would travel every day from my school in mid-town Manhattan to lower Manhattan where I had made many friends that were similar to me. I always ended up hanging out much later than I should have. My curfew was 9:00 PM, which is probably later than it should have been at my age, but I thought it was too early. I would stay out and not even keep track of time.
One night I left immediately after class to run downtown, it was around 3:30 pm when I hopped on the train. I couldn't wait to get to the park to sit and talk with my friends. I had a rough day with all the robots in my school, the picture perfect, goodie two shoes who sung as they skipped down the hallways. They drove me insane and I needed to rant to somebody. When I got off the train and finally met with my friends, it was around 4:30 pm. We walked from 14th street down to Astor Place, because there was a Starbucks that we enjoyed sitting in to keep warm. My friends and I were always broke, no allowance, no jobs, we just mooched off of society.
After sitting for hours laughing, ranting, and mostly just messing around with my friends, I decided to check the time. It was already 8:45! Not only was I going to be home much later than I should, but it was too late to use my student metro-card! I ran to the subway station hoping that it gave me a long enough grace period to use the card. The deadline on it was 8:30 pm, but you never knew. I swiped the card multiple times through the cold metal, but there it was, that horrible beeping. Th...
... middle of paper ...
...ange window seat. I leaned my head against the glass, relieved to finally be on my way home. I looked at my cellphone a saw it was past 9:30 pm. I was going to be over an hour late by the time I got home. I was not looking forward to being yelled at. Next time, I thought, I would have to set an alarm on my cell to let me know when I have to be on my way. I didn't want to be in that situation again.
When I think back on it, I realize there were other ways I could have gotten home. I could have asked someone to help me on the train, or stopped one of those police officers driving by. I probably should have called my mother, but I didn't because I was embarrassed and scared. I don't think I made a particularly bad decision. At the time I thought that was the only way I was going to get home. I probably would have been there for hours if I didn't make the choice I did.
Before my years in high school, I rarely put time and effort into studying and constantly associated with my friends at school; that is until I entered high school. The different competitive atmosphere at high school caused me to suddenly prioritize my studies ahead of everything else and my ambition became greater than ever. I began to interact less with my old friends and become less sociable with those around me. My parents also began to notice this drastic change and encouraged me to once in a while contact my old friends. During the beginning, I contacted my friends about two or three times a week, but the phone calls began to gradually diminish. I began to abandon my previous cheerful, ebullient nature in order to conform to the competitive, tense study environment at high school. As long as I successfully accomplished my goals and was accepted by others, I was willing to alter myself in order to assimilate into the mainstream environment. Through my hard work and perseverance, I was able to reach my goal and receive the acknowledgement of others; however, despite fulfilling all my ambitions, I did not feel any joy or satisfaction within myself. Even though I successfully accomplished my objectives in school, I realized that in return I completely sacrificed my social life. Despite being accepted by others, I began to feel a sense of loneliness and longed to
A gust of air audibly exited my lungs as I opened the creaky door of my mother’s beat up four door car. Charley didn’t have the same spring in his step that was present in his youth, but he did his best to run over and hop in. I wish he didn’t try so hard. My heart sank as he made vain attempts at pulling himself into the vehicle. I bent down and gave him a little assistance. He was quick to turn around and look at me anxiously. He never felt comfortable if I wasn’t sitting with him. I took my place in the back seat and slowly closed the door.
I remember when I was growing up, as a child, my mom would always tell me “Jasmine make sure you come straight home when you get off the bus.” I had always wanted to stay a while and converse with my friends. They use to laugh and jive at the fact I had to go straight home. In the essay “Shooting an Elephant” author George Orwell writes how he often had to face many adversities until he was granted a certain opportunity. I use to feel like if only I could be with them a little more I wouldn’t have got picked on so much or been an oddball.
It was the day of April 13, 2000. I woke up at exactly 12 o’clock because my boyfriend was to pick me up at 1 like we planned the night before. The day looked quite nice, but I was in a fowl mood. I got into a car accident the night before and had a huge argument with my parents about the car. I finally dragged myself into the shower and got ready in half an hour. Then I went downstairs, sat on my couch, and repeatedly told myself the day would hopefully turn out better than last night. At around 1:15, my boyfriend came to pick me up. We took the 5 freeway to the 57 since it was the only way I knew how to get there. As we approached the 134 freeway, my girlfriend veered to the right, taking the 210 which was wrong way and got us lost. So, we exited the freeway and got back on the right track. Then finally, before long, we reached Norton Simon.
My Freshman year was a rough time for me. It was my first year in high school, and things were so much different than what I was used to. Everyone had their clique of friends. It seemed like everyone knew who they were and where they belonged. I was struggling to find my own place in the school. I was only 14 years old and it’s okay to not know who you are when you’re that young. But when I got to high school, I began to have a lot
Like any Monday morning at Manhattan Hunter Science, I was sitting in Mr. Gershon’s classroom. My best friend on my left and a bright smart board staring back at me. Earlier that day, I woke around seven in the morning and about 7:35 I caught the train from E72nd street. I got off and took the M66 bus going crosstown I stopped like I always do on the corner of West 66 and Amsterdam to buy a bagel from Ahmed. I swiped my ID, walked up to the fifth floor, and immediately saw my friends. Days like that now seem like a figment of my imagination, but that was once my life.
In eighth grade I made the decision to take the risk of trading in my queen size bed and baby blanket for a twin bed and a complete stranger for a roommate. I came from a small private school located in New Haven, Connecticut that is called The Foote School. I was used to the things people at my school enjoyed like recess, gym class, and soccer. For me, the routine was the same. Everyday I would pack lunch in my lunch box, get Dunkin Doughnuts for breakfast, and scramble to finish my math homework on the twenty five minute car ride to school. The days were almost effortless. I always knew what I had to do and when I had to do it because everyone was constantly reminding me because, after all, I was just a middle schooler. When I was little, whenever we used to drive through New Hampshire, we would stop at the Tilton Diner, or as I called it “that place with the good milkshakes”. To be quite honest, I never actually knew that I was in New Hampshire when I would go to the diner; someone could’ve
While my friends went out, I stayed at home. When I went to parties, I’d always think I'd have had a better time on my own. Even when surrounded by others, I felt shut out, like I was different from everyone else. Social situations, including school, were torture. I bulldozed my way through life.
The third maddening buzz of my alarm woke me as I groggily slid out of bed to the shower. It was the start of another routine morning, or so I thought. I took a shower, quarreled with my sister over which clothes she should wear for that day and finished getting myself ready. All of this took a little longer than usual, not a surprise, so we were running late. We hopped into the interior of my sleek, white Thunderbird and made our way to school.
Then I lived in a small town in Italy, but it had no name. This had begun when I was only six years old. That was when a small black and teal tattoo appeared on my upper arm. No one knew why it appeared so as as grew older. As I grew up I got a job for a grumpy old man, with a wild red mustache and a big temper, I started to wear something to cover it up. One specific night on my 25th birthday, I had just gotten off from an unwanted night shift at the restaurant with my horrible boss. Once I got out of the taxi, I slumped my shoulders, and slowly walked into the second story apartment, laid down on the recliner and turned on the news.
The car was jerkily pulled back into the current lane. Time stopped, I was panting as if I’d just gotten 1st place in the Olympics for running. My heart squeezing so thin and small it would fit in a petri dish. I didn’t know what to do next my hand gripped the wheel awkwardly as life went by as a blur. The only sound being my driving instructor yelling maniacally in the background. I could feel it set in again... the disappointment. I would never be able to get past this first day on the road. The screaming in the background deflated me. I could never do
Growing up I never had time for anything. A normal teenage boy would’ve gone out almost everyday or just partied , what I basically , mean is that they would’ve been very outgoing and social. I on the other side I was a boy who didn’t had time to hangout friends , had to handle with work , school and sports. Waking up at 6 in the morning take a shower , change and by 7 had to get out from my house or I would’ve been late to school. Always had to walk , in the rain or snow it didn’t matter I had to walk because my older sister needs the car for her to go to college. After I get to school I had to do my do now for physiology and always trying to understand the class because I really don’t like science , but I had to try my best to get a good
When the end of my 5th grade year had hit; A land mark of the most traumatizing event of my life was about to take place. My mom had left my father and took us along with her. Over the summer and a few addit...
The bell of Highland High school rang and all the doors swung open. Students were rushing out of the school’s entrance. I hurried my way out of the school and decided to go to a store close by. It was a ten-minute walk. On this particular day I was craving some powdered donuts. While I was in my class I would think about how soft and delicious they would taste after a long day of learning things I didn’t find interesting. As I was walking to the store I thought about how boring my first year of High school is. I was distressed by the fact that I had to endure three more years of a place I considered a prison. When I finally got the store I rushed to the donut section and grabbed two bags of powdered donuts. I paid for my donuts and walked to my house, which was another five-minute walk. I hated taking this route because there is a warehouse across from my home. So many semis pass by my house and they would make extremely lurid noises. It was as if I was living at a construction site. When I arrived to my house I swiftly went into my room hoping nobody would see the bag of powdered donuts. I opened
It was the second semester of fourth grade year. My parents had recently bought a new house in a nice quite neighborhood. I was ecstatic I always wanted to move to a new house. I was tired of my old home since I had already explored every corner, nook, and cranny. The moment I realized I would have to leave my old friends behind was one of the most devastating moments of my life. I didn’t want to switch schools and make new friends. Yet at the same time was an interesting new experience.