I do not remember the first book I read. Actually, I do not really remember much before I turned six. I do remember reading Little House on the Prairie, by Laura Ingles Wilder when I was in first grade. Back then, I lived in a neighborhood called Shadowmoss Plantation with my mom, dad, little sister Emme, and our two cats named Stonewall and Lilly. That was the year we discovered that Emme had cancer. While Emme stayed in the hospital with my mom, my dad and I lived on a combination of fast food, anxiety, hope, and prayers. My dad had received his PhD a few years earlier, so our house looked like the historical section of the library. I remember two large wooden bookshelves filled with books. He had books about the Civil War, early America, …show more content…
As a child, I asked my parents so many questions because I wanted to learn everything. I wanted to be super smart, and to protect people from death and disease. I wanted to be smarter than everyone else, because when I studied, I did not think. When I did not think, I held back my anxiety. I questioned my faith, and I found answers because of those questions. The more I questioned ideas, the more I learned from the answers. But the more I thought about those answers, the more anxious I felt. Its not that exciting of a story really. The story of a little girl who faced tragedy, loved to read, and wanted to help sick people. This girl could be anyone really. But her story differed from the rest. She had a little sister that survived. She felt the real impact that a brush with death incites. This little girl, this privileged little girl, wanted to make a difference. However she wanted to do it all by herself, so nobody could say she did not earn it. One day, this little girl will be on stage, getting her degree. She will change lives in ways never done before. Maybe she will even find the cure for cancer. I know this all sounds cliché, but I have a lot of faith in this little girl, because this little girl is
O’Connor himself wasn’t partially physically intimidating. This fact became abundantly clear once he stepped off his chair and approached me. While not necessarily short in stature, his seat gave him an extra few inches compared to his natural stance.
While showing how brave and unselfish she was, she also showed that she was fragile and not as strong as she used to be. “A black dog with a lolling tongue came up out of the weeds by the ditch. She was meditating, and not ready, and when he came at her she only hit him a little with her cane. Over she went in the ditch, like a little puff of milkweed.” Even though she hit the dog only a little, it caused her to fall into a ditch. At last there came a flicker and then a flame of comprehension across her face, and she spoke. "My grandson. It was my memory had left me. There I sat and forgot why I made my long trip." This shows how her mind went blank, causing her to forget why she had made the journey.
Even though she was facing extremely high danger by doing so small she took those risks and continued to do good.
In the late 20s, life was good down here in the south. The grass was long, tall, and healthy, the wind would graze over the grass like a nice comb over haircut. The crops were plentiful and could be seen for miles. Life was good, we had everything we had ever needed down here on the farm. In the summer, we would have hay bale making contests on our farm. We had a farm of about 27 acres, we grew primarily soybeans and wheat. However, life would change for the worst come the 30s.
...n high school and she was striving for big goals, working hard to achieve them, and overcoming countless obstacles. Even when her father stole that piggy bank money she did not give up. Her purpose in life helped transfer her into adulthood. Without this determination and sacrifice, seceding into a successful adult would have been much more challenging.
...fought for what she thought was right. No amount of protection, that her mom tried to offer, could keep this woman from doing what she was meant to do.
It was August of 1819 in Mississippi. Men were harvesting corn and beans. The smell of the Choctaw own acorn bread filled the air. All the children were prancing about, playing with friends, shooting squirrels with their little toy bows, and wrestling for the last bite of jerky. All but one child. That lonely little boy’s name was Koi. Koi never got to play with the other Choctaw boys, as he had to prepare to become chief.
In The Book Thief, a young girl who had no experience with war before gave more meaning to the reader to see the story unfold through her eyes. She was an innocent child who one day her life changed forever when her family
endured also gave her the strength and confidence to become a great humanitarian and a
The first memory I had of the Internet was during the second grade when I started playing games on the Disney Channel, Nickelodeon, and Cartoon Network. I heard about the websites from commercials that played during commercials. My parents weren’t very strict about my Internet use as long as it wasn’t while someone else was trying to talk on the home phone (90’s kid problems), but for some reason, I wasn’t really interested in exploring the web beyond playing games to avoid boredom.
I was sitting with my friend, Pistol on one of the bucking shoots watching the barrel race.
The author did a great job on using the story to show what happened to her when she had the same problem. With her writing the story about events
From the very first paragraph of the narrative, I noticed that there were several details that the narrator mentioned that required further, deeper thought. For me, this is what made the story appealing.
her this was a chance to escape from her mother and an unfulfilling life. Because of the financial difficulties in their family now, she could finally be free from that middle class prison and was able to move out on her own.
Beginning in kindergarten, was when I first fell in love with reading and writing. When I was in kindergarten I remember bringing home a ton of books to read to my parents and one book in particular was my favorite story and that was the story, “The Corduroy Bear.” I probably read that book a hundred times because I loved it so much. I read so many books in kindergarten that, I soon became interested in writing too. In my stories I would write