“If you plan on being anything less than you are capable of being, you will probably be unhappy all the days of your life.” This is what I was thinking, the day I decided to stand up for myself. The day I decided to stop being someone else and start being me. Have you ever felt the need to do anything to belong? Well I have; being there done that all in the name of fitting in, till I realize that it doesn’t change a thing.
You see, back in Ibadan, Nigeria, I was nine when I started middle school, and the youngest in my class. Desperate to fit in somewhere, I did everything I could – from doing my classmates homework and quizzes to getting punished in their stead. The things I did were listless. Don’t blame me; I’m just an ignoramus trying to fit in. I tried mingling with them, but was always ignored. That didn’t ring a bell in my head that I wasn’t wanted. I still continued with my tactless act. When it got all stressful, since I had to do a lot of homework to do every day after school, I lagged behind in my school work. Foolish as I was, I thought they would understand, so I explained to them that I couldn’t help
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The sun was bright in the sky and birds on the trees were singing and humming happily. On getting to my classroom, a cold bucket of water was thrown at me; I was pushed and brutally beaten. My classmates told me that they put up with me because I helped them with their homework and since I didn’t anymore, I was just another prawn to them - a means to an end. After everything I’ve done for them, how could they do this to me? I thought these people were my friends, I thought they were on my side. But all these were just figments of my imagination. This incident brought me to my senses. I realized that I’ve always been alone and I was just a tool to them. I decided that I’m done with them. I reported them to the school authority and disciplinary actions were taken towards
“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”
Is adolescence really about fitting in or not standing out? Do you have any responsibility to those students who do not fit in? Do you hear that? Hush, and listen closely. Do you hear it now? The cries for help of the kids who don’t fit in with the crowd. The cries aren’t always loud. Sometimes they don’t make a sound. Stop and listen to them. Take responsibility for those kids and stand up for those kids who won’t stand up for themselves.
Middle school was immensely difficult time for me. I had glasses and braces and in sixth and seventh grade went through an exceedingly at a maladroit stage. My comrades did an exceptional job of making those two years a living Tartarus. I’m currently twenty-one, but I still cringe when I contemplate about some of the unpleasant incidents I suffered with other kids during those years. I was a marvelous athlete. The only time the “cool kids” would be “semi-nice” is when I was tremendously superb at basketball. In the 8th grade I transferred schools to a Christian school and began to come out of my awkward looking phase. I received contacts and extracted my braces. It would seem that I would be awarded some confidence at this, but my self-esteem was nevertheless damaged. I made several friends and was in no way speculated there as “the ...
Malala Yousafzai once stated, “I raise up my voice–not so that I can shout, but so those without a voice can be heard.” This philosophy is one that I have always modelled my life after. However, it was not until my freshman year of high school that I truly began affiliating myself with the causes of human rights and social justice. It may sound a bit absurd, but the most prominent force that caused me to become more concerned with the pursuit of justice has been the internet. Due to its vast amounts of information, I am now an active feminist and an all around supporter of human rights. I constantly seek to further my awareness on such issues, taking care to learn and expand on my knowledge of the inequities of the world. Once I opened
But what I realized was, this entire time, I was being myself. I never conformed to what everyone liked, I always remained myself because that is the best way to live life. I’ve always wore the exquisite long tees with jean cut-offs I wanted to wear. I’ve always hung around the chill people who aren’t afraid to be different and don’t care what others think of them. I’ve just recently considered my uniqueness as a blessing instead of a curse. It’s a lot better being around a few like-minded people that actually like you than being acquaintances with hundreds of people that you are putting a front on for. At that moment I embraced that fact that I traveled down the lonely road less traveled. The road of being yourself and doing the things that you like and doing the things that make you happy. Life is a lot better when you aren’t trying to be something that you are
When life becomes overwhelming during adolescence, a child’s first response is to withdraw from the confinement of what is considered socially correct. Individuality then replaces the desire to meet social expectations, and thus the spiral into social non-conformity begins. During the course of Susanna’s high school career, she is different from the other kids. Susanna:
“One of the greatest regrets in life is being what others would want you to be, rather than being yourself.”- Shannon L. Alder, American author. Even with all the temptation and pressure we feel just to fit in today's society, or to be normal, it's crucial that you hold on to your passions, goals, dreams, values, and to hold on to yourself. Being yourself is very hard to do especially in today’s society. Such as the short story “Initiation” by Sylvia Plath.
A lesson that I learned for good. When I was five years old and the year it was 2005. Me and my mother were home like any other day. It was a Monday morning and everyone left the house except for me and my mother. The reason why we were the only ones left is, because my sister was at the age where she could go to school. As for my father well he’s the man of the house so he has to go to work.
Therefore, I was very dependent on my family and friends. Anytime someone new tried to talk to me, I could always count on at least one of my sisters, to be standing right by my side, answering any question they threw at me. One of the things that scared me the most about public school was the number of hours I would be away from my family, after all, they were my interpreters and protectors. After the first few weeks, when everything started to settle down, that’s when I realized “I can do this.” The whole communication and conversation was not as horrible as I imagined it to be. In fact, people were really quite pleasant to me, being the “new girl” and all. I started to make list, which may not seem to be a big deal, but it was a big step for me. Since, previously, I thought that list were just something mothers made for groceries, or the elderly made due their forgetfulness. I was wrong. I came to realize, that it was an independency thing, not an age or gender thing. They had so much responsibilities that they had to write them all down, in order to remember them
Summer vacation, and school ends for about three months, and then you have as much fun as you can, then back to school… right? Well I had to go to summer school, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everything was going fine, I had a job after summer school, and that was going fine as well. They say that summer is supposed to be fun and exciting, and it usually is for me and my family. However in July my father started coughing up blood. My father usually doesn’t make it his top priority to go to the doctors, so he waited about four weeks until he really didn’t feel good.
My educational journey can be described perfectly by this analogy: I was given broken crayons expected to draw a house and a dog with black and white spots, but instead I created a mansion with stained glass windows and added a terrace with porch lights. Others always expected me to do the average, but I always surpassed their expectations--thus making the ordinary, extraordinary. My educational journey began at Ludwig Van Beethoven, my neighborhood elementary school. Unfortunately, the school’s accessibility from my grandmother’s house was the only factor considered when enrolling me and my other sixteen aunts, uncles, and cousins. The school had a very low budget which reflected the resources and neighborhood I grew up in. The class sizes
Growing up, I always felt out of place. When everyone else was running around in the hot, sun, thinking of nothing, but the logistics of the game they were playing. I would be sat on the curb, wondering what it was that made them so much different from me. To me, it was if they all knew something that I didn’t know, like they were all apart of some inside joke that I just didn’t get. I would sit, each day when my mind wasn’t being filled with the incessant chatter of my teachers mindlessly sharing what they were told to, in the hot, humid air of the late spring and wonder what I was doing wrong. See, my discontent
There is a point in everyone’s life when they step back and realize “I can’t do this anymore, it’s ruining my life”. Many of my friends have started smoking cigarettes while drinking at a very young age, and continue to use this drug currently and don’t realize the affect it has on their future. While I have been smart enough to avoid smoking, I haven’t been as wise at making decisions when it comes to drinking. The amount of partying I’ve done in college has taken over my life, and has had a huge impact on my grades. Changing my drinking habits and continuing to avoid cigarettes will enable me to be the best I can be for the rest of my college experience.
My eagerness to embrace life in high school squashed when I came face to face with extreme mean behavior at the hands of kids my own age. My grades started falling, from an honors student I had turned into someone who just hated school. From sulking, to rebelling to being remorseful, had become my permanent demeanor.
My two oldest sisters would eventually leave because they became constant targets of verbal humiliation. Somewhere along the way, my parents sought for help. Things became less tense and less aggravating. Still, this obstacle caused me to realize resentment would push me down. I decided to focus all my energy in relearning the things I lost in Honduras. By fourth grade year, I was voted the most improved and the hardest-worker. My teachers saw my potential and they saw all the energy I put into learning English. The encouragement from my teachers made me interested in literature, culture, and language. I became a bookworm. My nose would always be stuck in a book. It was difficult for my sisters and I to adapt; especially because I was reserved. Fast-forward to middle school. I had so much confidence walking in. I started making friends. Unfortunately, the bullying starter. I was afraid to talk. Students will make remarks on my accentuated English, and would mock it. And the irony? It was from my Spanish-speaking peers. Not only was I self-conscious, but I became isolated. This isolation continued throughout middle school. I focused on doing everything to