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Effects of family background on academic performance
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I remember going to preschool in Carson city during the later 1990’s. My mother would of always wake me up earlier to start walking towards my school from the trailer place called Trailer Heaven. Upon walking towards the school I felt really good that I was going to play with other kids from the barrio. However, once I saw my mom drop me off , I got really sad since it was all new to me since she stayed with me the first week of school. However, my classmates always cheered me up by us playing with building blocks, I remember counting every block and trying how much I could add in order to make a big pyramid like I seen in a Cantinflas movie. Throughout my time in preschool I started to overcome my first fear of starting to accept my mother …show more content…
Immediately I decided to take the job, since I knew how I would be helping my mother by having money to buy my school supplies, pay small bills, and invite her por lo menos un taco. Throughout the book, Borderlands: La Frontera The New Mestiza by Gloria Anzaldúa, there is a poem that mentions, “Hincado, manos hinchadas sudor floreciendo en su cara su mirada en altas veredas sus pensamientos torciendo cuerdas para pescar esa paloma de las alturas. Siglo tras siglo.”(page. 152) After working for summer in the fields, I had a taste of what this poem was mentioning. I remember working under the hot sun picking up peaches feeling the sweat fall from my back. Once entering 8 grade I heard all my friends that they got traveled around the country. However, I didn’t feel bad since every laborers job I did, I felt it was like my personal trainer to keep on the path of education. For some reason I was looking forward towards going to high school, since I know that is the last stage before college. Since I was little I always wanted to go to college to better myself. My mother always told me “mijo es que estudia tiene más oportunidad para agarra un trabajo menos cansado y trabajar con tu comunidad”. During eighth grade was the year that I started to realized that mathematics can be something I would love doing for the rest of my life, however I just didn’t know how I could use that passion to help my community. That was until I meet one of my worst mathematic teachers I had in my education path. Each time I had questions, he will always make me feel dumb. Until one day I went after school to ask him,
...se kids to me? You can’t communicate with them. Is there anybody here that can speak Spanish?” (Pg. 71) After seeing all that, all throughout his school years Francisco decides to drop out of high school because he felt that school was not worth it. Just like the title says I get nothing out of school. He leaves, but first he tells his teacher “Big deal! You call yourself a teacher! I can communicate in two languages. You can only communicate in one, who’s the teacher, teach? (Pg. 78) Francisco tells the teacher exactly how he feels toward teachers. There were teachers who judged him and ignored him, teachers who only used him, but never really cared about him. He at the end knew he had the power to help others and also had the resources. As Francisco continues his path, he finds out that the only way to become someone, and help his people is through good education.
Miguel Melendez’s book, “We Took the Streets” provides the reader with an insightful account into the activities of the Young Lords movement established in the latter years of the 1960s and remained active up until the early seventies. The book’s, which is essentially Melendez’s memoir, a recollection of the events, activities, and achievements of the Young Lords. The author effectively presents to the reader a fascinating account of the formation of the Young Lords which was a group of college students from Puerto Rico who came together in a bid to fight for some of the basic rights. As Melendez sums it up, “You either claim your history or lose authority over your future” (Melendez 23). The quote is in itself indicative of the book’s overall
When they first arrived to the United States their only hopes were that they would have a better life and that there were better special education programs for Maribel to attend at Evers. Alma imagined that the buildings would look a lot nicer than they really were. The family was surprised that they could take things from the street that someone threw out of their house, but were in working condition. When they arrived they didn’t think that you would actually have to learn English to be able to communicate, but after going to stores and interacting with people they learned that they need to learn English if they want to live in America. They hoped that you could be able to afford anything in America by working, but based off of the money Arturo was making they learned that you can’t buy everyth...
The topic of the article i read deals with Xenophobia in the township of Alexandra located in the Gauteng province. Xenophobia is defined as the fear of being perceived to be a foreigner. The author, Jason Hickel, briefly gives a background on the hostility that had ensued in 2008. Local residents from the township were attacking people from foreign countries such as Mozambique, Somalia, and Zimbabwe. Foreigners were collectively known as makwerekwere. Throughout the article, Jason Hickel gives several reasons for why xenophobia exists in the township. The article breaks down the issues into three important reasons: poverty, globalization, and witchcraft. The article demonstrates a knowledge of how the global economy impacts the lives of countries who are left out of it.
When I look back at my childhood, I see it as a highly colored, exaggerated version of what it must have been. Everything seems brighter, and bigger than reality allows. It’s the ideal “child’s world,” full of Barbies, dress-up, and playgrounds. But, if I try hard enough, I can remember the feeling of being there. The feeling of being small, and nearly innocent. Most of the time when I think of my childhood, I look back on two specific years, kindergarten and first grade, and the summers before and after the two. Both of these took place in Schaumburg, Illinois, in a two-bedroom town-home that I still call “my old house” even though it’s not that anymore. I’m not sure if these are the years I simply remember the best, or if that was actually the time I felt most like a child. I had many friends, and we had plenty of time to play games and use our imaginations. Nevertheless, I don’t usually reminisce about the shows and movies that I used to watch, and certainly not how these things affected me growing up. When prompted, however, I can remember specifics. I even begin to see how visual texts, like The Little Mermaid and Full House, have influenced me throughout my life and especially in my childhood. I have felt the impact of these things in my life as recently as this year, and I can see not only how the shows I watched influenced my behavior, but also that I chose to watch shows and movies that I thought were representative of me.
Rodriguez reminisces his times spent in school and how they have affected his life, both positively and negatively; he has discovered that by leaving his family for school work he has left behind a pivotal part of his personal education, which is arguably just as important as formal education. He also tells about how he viewed his teachers much more highly than his parents, as though they were the only people that you can learn from. What he failed to see until it was too late was that his parents had just as much to teach him as his college professors. Rodriguez sees his faults ultimately because he is educated, a rather strange paradox. Without his ability to appreciate his “scholarship boy” education, he would not be able to appreciate all the sacrifices his parents made to ensure that he was happy in his ability to learn. Rodriguez shares with his readers a common challenge for all students: to find a delicate balance between our types of learning. Students who have had the opportunity to have a formal education know this type of balance all too well as they slowly separate themselves from home life and strive to think and be more like their peers. Rodriguez shares the idea that there is so much more to education that sitting in a desk waiting to be spoon-fed information. All of Rodriguez’s decisions, all decisions of students in general, come at a cost; the cost sometimes
In the story Norma, by Sonia Sanchez, the character Norma excelled at school, even being the smartest person in math (pg. 5 ln. 50-51) and the best linguist in French class (pg. 6 ln. 71-73). Yet Norma made many mistakes that made her much less successful than she probably would have become. The moral of the story is to not do drugs, don’t become a parent while in school, and go to college.
Growing up as an adolescent, I was first introduced to the Spanish language. I was always told that my parents’ souls lied deep within the beautiful state of Durango, Mexico and that in turn, I would never amount to much. I come from a long line of uneducated individuals, my father discontinued his studies at the mere age of fourteen while my mother merely continued her studies until high school. This, in consequence, places me amongst the first-generation of students in my family to receive an education outside of Mexico. Finding a place to settle was not always something that came to us easily. My father had to work two jobs in order to put food on our table while my mother was forced to stay home and care for the children. Easily, the most
I was 5 years old, I was shy and didn’t have much courage and talk to people. Making friends was always hard. So sitting with my mom and helping her with my baby brother was what I chose to do the whole game. Like I said, ‘I chose’. My mom told me that we had just won our first game and that we had about an hour wait before we went on to play our second game. She wanted me to go play with this big group of kids. They were all my age, More than half was boys and maybe there was about two girls. I had said, “Ok”. But inside, my heart was racing, my brain was telling
As I heard the screeching sounds of the gates of my compound, I dashed out in excitement knowing that my mom had returned from what seemed to be a long day of work. Upon reaching her, the gloomy look on her face did not sit well with as me as my mother is the most cheerful person I know. In my curiosity, I asked her what the problem was. As tears rolled down her cheeks, she told me that she had to close down her store because the business had failed and she had been suffering large amounts of financial losses. This memory, I recall so vividly, as this news initiated a series of changes in my life. Within the next week, I was told that we were relocating and that I had to enroll in a new school. At the age of 8, I was oblivious to why my family had to make so many financial cuts because of the loss of one business. Filled with anger and disappointment, I realized that what was once my reality had become my dream.
My family has been a foster home since the middle of my eighth grade year. We hadn’t had kids until everything changed October 30, 2012, my freshman year of high school. It was a regular school day, everyone talking about their Halloween plans, what parties they were going to, and who was "too old" to trick or treat. I was sitting in my dreadful World History class when I got a text message from my mother saying, "Call me as soon as you can.”
It was a beautiful, sunny day in South Florida. I was six years old, playing by the pool with my new puppy. I loved swimming in the pool almost every day after school. I also enjoyed going out on our boat after school or crossing the street and going to the beach. My father came home one evening with some interesting news. Now, I do not remember exactly how I felt about the news at that time, but it seemed like I did not mind that much. He had announced that we were going to move back to my birth country, Belgium. I had been living in Florida for five years and it was basically all I had known so I did not know what to expect. I had to live with my mom at first, and then my sister would join us after she graduated high school and my father finished settling things. I remember most of my earlier childhood by watching some old videos of me playing by the pool and dancing in the living room. It seemed like life could not get any better. However, I was excited and impatient to experience a new lifestyle. I realized that I could start a whole new life, make new friends and learn a new language. Belgium was not as sunny as South Florida but it has much better food and family oriented activities. Geographic mobility can have many positive effects on younger children, such as learning new languages, being more outgoing, and more family oriented; therefore, parents should not be afraid to move around and experience new cultures.
Coming to the America, my love of mathematics thrived and bore a multitude of fruits. My career journey began at a young age of seven years old, living in the Catholic dormitory of the Notre Dame monastery. The school provided the opportunities to develop the love of learning and eventually the joy of teaching math in my heart, so I liked to study math. In the school year 2017, I became a teacher’s assistant at Yorba Middle School, and because of this, I should go for a teaching credential of a California state university.
I was around the age of ten when this earliest memory had happened. At the end of fifth grade only two more months left of fifth grade. I was about to go into the sixth grade at pierce middle school. I remember this weekend quiet clearly. It was the weekend of Easter 1994. This weekend would completely change my life forever. I remember my mom coming home from work, picking us up from the daycare on Friday. My mom seemed to be calm and acted like nothing had happened. She said she had a surprise for us, and we would be going to visit our cousins along with staying with them for the weekend. She had told us that there were a few things she needed to take care of. We didn’t know much and didn’t seem to think anything of it. My cousin made the
Kindergarten year was the year how there is this unconditional love between a mom and/or her son or daughter. I visually and physically remembered the day I felt ill. That time I was once a positive, joyful, innocent little boy too a negative, miserable, and irreproachable. This pain was remarkable; plus: It felt like the lord has a spoon in his hand and was slowly eating my intestines. I felt vulnerable and useless feeling like I want to give up on life. A virus struck my body called Viral Pneumonia. The only person that was there for me was my Mom. Thinking at the time it would be the worst week of my childhood turns out to be one I would remember till this day and appreciate when I grew older.