Growing Up

When I was 7 years old, my elementary school would come and invite everyone to come and celebrate Father’s Day. That was when my 7-year-old fragile self used to cry three nights before the event. That’s when I realized that I did not have a father. My parents separated when I was 2 years old. Since that time, I’ve lost track of my biological father and my mom has been by my side for 17 years. Growing up, I would see my friends getting picked up by their parents. I wanted my parents to pick me up, but my dad wasn’t there and my mom was trying to fit in both roles, which she couldn’t because she was absent most times. Basically, I was on my own and had a hard time processing my feelings. As a kid, there aren’t many times when an adult will sit down and tell you what is going on. With the little information you get, you start blaming people and forgiving is not part of your vocabulary. I used to be rough on myself, I would most times blame myself for the separation of my parents when in reality, I had nothing to do with it and it wasn’t my fault.

Years later, I moved to a private school, where I had friends with successful parents. The following year, we celebrated Father’s Day. My friends dressed up as the mirroring image of their fathers. Instead, I dressed up as a hairdresser with an apron, because my mom was a hairdresser and she sewed for a factory. I started to accept reality and realized that even though my biological father was never there, it didn’t mean that my family wasn’t going to be there to support me. I began to get involved with different classmates and created friendships that are still standing to this day. Yes, I’ll admit that absence sucks but it’s only for a while because then you start to forget what they looked like and that they are just a memory. The absence of something or someone starts feeling like nothing after the years go by. After you make more friends and start new adventures all sorts of guilt, anger, and resentment, it will fade away. Anger and resentment became my friends and my biggest mistake was never talking about it with my family, I didn’t want to be the center of attention. I didn’t want to be another problem.

As I became older, it became harder to understand: Why me? Why does it have to be that way? I had more questions but no one to answer them. Until this day it’s still hard to comprehend why my dad decided to leave and even though we have talked about it, I feel that more happened. He usually says, “I did not love your mom anymore.” That leaves me hanging with more questions like did you love me anymore? Was it the fact that we lived in different places that emotionally separated us?

When my uncle used to play “Don’t Stop Believin” by The Journey on my way to school and we would sing to the top of our lungs it would light up my day. I would pray and ask God why wasn’t my uncle my dad? Or why didn’t I have a dad like him? I had to understand that he was just my uncle. Over the years many people have become part of my life, but when I met my dad I cried. My emotions were confused and still are. I saw him and then I saw my reflection, he is tall with curly hair, big brown eyes, and a deep voice. I would cry for my mom and he would say things like “why do you cry if I’m here?” and I would stay quiet. All that anger I thought I had learned to manage just came back. The worst attitude would come out of me until I made him cry once. I loved my sisters even my stepmother but the problem was with him. Every day for a year, I tried to get closer but it was impossible. I would just think about that time when my uncle told me “Margie you have to jump off the car” because it was burning and how he put my safety first and then his own. Little things that my dad would say, made things harder for me to forgive him, made me want my life back. The last time I saw him, I still felt like a stranger to him. Looking at his eyes I said, “would you still support me even after distance comes between us again?” To my surprise, he said, “I just think you have a better life here.” I am glad I moved to Philly out of a painful relationship, but I do admit that I miss him, I hope he knows that. Then that’s when I thanked my family for helping me become the person I am today. I’ve been a part of a couple of sports teams and clubs I’ve learned a lot from them.

Today I am not upset with my biological father, I forgive him if there is anything to forgive and I wish him the best. He has a new family and I am happy for them, I hope my sisters have a different childhood than I did. The last time I saw him I told him I just hoped the best for him and even though we hadn’t talked in a while, the last time we did we fought, I still want the best for him and I’ll be here to give the support I never got. I’ve realized that family is anyone who welcomes you to their life. After all the pain I’ve learned that I’m not the bad guy in this story and that I never was, neither was him.

Coming to America is NOT a movie

Introduction:

When I first started writing this essay, I had to evaluate certain portions of my life and see how they affect me in the present because I had a goal to write about something that I believe affect me in the present. So at first that I would write about music and how it comforts me, however, I decided to write briefly about my life as an African immigrant because this is something that is in my being, something that I will always have. When I finished my essay, I was really proud about my ability to emulate heavy emotions by only using words. Looking ahead into the future I hope that I am able to be more descriptive and egaging in my essays.

Essay:

Coming to America isn’t a movie, it’s a dream. For as long as I could remember all I ever wanted to do was to come to America, meet my parents, go to school, and become rich. Most of these dreams became a reality at the age of six. I was born in Lome, Togo, so when I was three months old, my parents, hoping for a better life, moved to America, leaving my sister and me to be raised by my grandmother until they settled down. My sister, five years my superior, vowed to protect me as my parents boarded a plane to the U.S.

So while I was growing up in Togo, I was always told stories about how one day I would come to America and finally meet my parents and become rich, due to my opportunity. After six years of living with my grandmother and cousins, one night my mother finally came to bring us to the U.S. I was sleeping alongside my sister and cousin when we woke in a panic to the frightening sounds of screaming and jumping. Benighted of the situation, I quickly concluded that the noises were coming from a witch, when in reality, it was my eager mother, ready to greet her children. Everything from that point on moved so fast and before I knew it, I was in America.

The days leading up to my first day of school in the U.S were exciting and filled with restlessness. I would go to my room and try to practice the English I had learned from my younger brother and Nick Jr. I would every so often open up my ‘Cars’ backpack to make sure I had everything I needed for the first day.

Soon enough it was the first day of school and there I was in a room filled with one hundred other kids, sitting on the gym floor waiting for my name to be called. I sat on the cool gym floor just like every other kid, I looked like every other kid in my uniform, I waited like every other kid, but I was unable to comprehend anything that was going on. I tried my best to recall the English that Nick Jr and my younger brother had taught me. The only thing that could come into mind was ‘Good Morning.’ I was sitting on the cool gym floor with a blank look on my face and decided that as soon as I hear “KANKOUE FOLLY,” I would jump up and will enjoy the perfect first day of school.

I sat there a little longer, the gym was getting quieter as parents and students left after exchanging final goodbyes. The gym lost its fire. It became a vacuum of distress and nervousness. A vacuum filled with fidgeting six-year-olds and irritated adults, suddenly I hear ‘Is there a Keekaw Folly in here?’ followed by ‘Keekoe, or is it Koukoon?’ I slowly got up, disappointed that pronouncing my name in an American school sounded like the mating calls of an exotic bird, I dragged my feet as I followed the name butchering woman to my classroom. Over a few years, I had learned English and tried to destroy all evidence of my cultural differences. I was now attending middle school and every so often someone would ask me about my accent, to which I would respond with a story about how I was born in Africa, in a small west African country named Togo. This would usually lead to the person, asking me some unwelcomed questions. “Have you seen a giraffe?” or “Did you live in a tribe?”

The drastic change in culture from when I moved from Africa to America was hard at first because I was unsure as to how I was going to fit in with the other students, despite looking like most of them. Deciding that the best way for me to fit in was to strip myself of my culture, I attempted to do so. I blamed the ignorance of my peers as the cause as to why I was concealing a portion of my identity, when in actuality hiding my culture allowed ignorance to persist, thus isolating me as the most ignorant person in the room. Culture and identity make people who they are, and everyone influences each other, so, your identity should be a reflection of who you are, not who the world says you have to be. In short, normality should never be favored ahead of uniqueness, the world will always have an impact on you as a person, and you will always have an impact on the world by just being you.

Advanced Essay Don't be Afraid of Fear

For this essay, my main goals were to address a few scenes of memory from my life that go over the topic of fear. I was most proud of my figurative language skills and my build-up of tension. I would improve describe each little scene deeper so that the readers feel like they are in my shoes.

I was nearly 11 years old and totally not excited for what tonight had to come. At this point in my life, my parents are divorced and I live with my mom Saturday through Wednesday while Thursdays and Fridays I am with my dad. A quick history lesson on my dad, he is a teacher for a school in South Philly. He has only one kid(me) and goes to the bar a lot like normal guys his age. Besides watching golf and football his only other hobby is playing music. He loves music, whether it’s to play, listen, or make up his own. For the longest time, he wanted me to get piano lessons. He tried teaching me but like any other father and son, being taught by your dad on how to do something will never go smoothly. It’s like telling a mouse to sleep with a cat, it just can’t work. But after watching him play this beautiful song Fur Elise, I decided it was time to give it a try. I was inspired, but since I told him that I will not learn if he was the teacher we had to think of another way of learning. After some thinking, we agreed that a piano teacher could come to our house and teach on our piano. Ding Dong the doorbell sounds. A jolt of fear and curiosity went through my veins as anyone does when they here an alarming noise. My dad gets up off the couch and heads left towards the door while I head toward the piano. We have a stand-up piano my grandmother gave to my dad when we first moved in. The piano is a dark brown with skinny legs and three pedals at the bottom. The white and black keys were dusty towards either end of the scale while there were greasy fingerprints towards the middle.

I could hear my father open the door and out of my peripheral, I saw a tall white man with long brown hair. I turned my head to the right and made eye contact with the man. He had a brown top hat and a brown coat, his eyes were dull brown with creases beneath his eyes. I didn’t get the jazzy pianist vibe I was imagining but more of a hipster vibe. He came through the antechamber of our house, past the couch and he approached the piano where I was standing. He greeted me with a nicer attitude than I thought he would have. “Heya Max! How was your day?” The man asked me. His eyes were wide open and his head was tilted. It was almost kinda creepy, he reminded me of a clown. “Uhh, alright,” I replied nervously. We then sit down together on the stool beside the piano just underneath where the keys are. Before we go into the lesson he asked me questions to get to know me, which reduced my anxiety levels. That was smart of him because the creepy hipster clown vibe I was getting was not working out. He later went on and showed me what sheet music looked like. I was confused and did not understand how to read notes, It was like learning another language to me. As the lesson went on my slight bit of adermation slowly escaped from me and my hands went cold and lifeless. It was only halfway through the lesson and all I could think about was how badly I wanted this lesson to end. My forearms were squealing with pain and my wrists were droopy from playing cords. The lesson was over and my takeaways were that I was not happy and I wasn’t interested in music anymore. My dad walked him out towards the door and gave him a handshake goodbye. My dad walked back towards me where the piano was. I looked at my dad up and down then proceeded the truth. I told him I did not enjoy any part of what just happened and I wanted out. He was displeased and wouldn’t let me quit this fast. After a few more lessons with me complaining at the end of each one, he finally let up and canceled the piano lessons altogether. After all of this, I realized I had a problem. My problem was that I give up to easy and I am scared of failure. I am scared of what people will think. I am not good with learning anything new besides when I am in school. I figured I had to fix that problem sooner or later. I decided on later…

It was the winter break of my first year at SLA. This new school environment was bringing out a different side of me. I was trying new foods, making new friends, and trying new hobbies. My hard thick skin that surrounded the insecurities got thinner as the school year went along. I became more confident in who I was and who I could be in the future.

Every year for Christmas my family and I drive up to my grandmother’s house in Valparaiso, Indiana. It was always good times over there until I saw an old friend laying beside the stairs. It was black and tall with skinny legs much like the brown hunk of dest I have back at home. My grandma introduced me to it she said she has been getting along with it quite nice and I was impressed by her songs. She taught me how to play one of the easy songs she knows and I caught on pretty easily. I was having fun! I could finally see how my dad could enjoy playing music. I was hooked, for the rest of the vacation, I would play for hours on end until my hands hurt. I played so much in that one week that my grandma taught me everything she knew, a whole years worth of practice that I learned entirely in one week. I was amazed at how easy it was for me to learn songs, I didn’t read the sheet music though. I would learn from demonstration and practice and play by memory. This might have developed some bad habits by not learning by the rules but the point was to have fun! Once the week was over and we drove back home my mom realized my interest in the piano. Later the next month for my birthday she gave me a digital piano with fewer keys than a normal piano. At that time I did not care. I was sick of only being able to play a couple of days a week while I was at my dad’s house. Once my new piano was set up I played every day for as long as I could. I learned songs from Beethoven in only a month after learning how to play. I learned songs like titanic after a few months then later that year I was learning multiple classical pieces all by memory. I became so good that I could learn any song I wanted within a week and play it perfectly by two.

This talent of learning songs fast became more than a hobby and now a passion. I continued mastering piano and still to this day I am still in love with the keys. I really do think that playing the piano opened me up to trying new things. Now I have conquered one of my biggest fears and insecurities, failure.

Abrupt and Forever

Introduction:

My goal for this essay was to talk about myself through connecting stories. Since this was my first big writing assignment since last year, I had to read over it multiple times to catch my small punctuation errors. After all of the editing work I have done, I am proud of myself for creating a piece that flows from idea to idea. This piece was edited carefully by myself and other people who also gave me their opinions about the writing. How I would like to improve my writing process for my next paper is to write a plan so I know everything I am going to include in my piece.

Essay:

I am awoken by two high-pitched beeps as my eyes slowly open. “Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat is back and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you. Thank you.” I gave out a yawn. When I shut my mouth, I realized I needed water.

I feel the plane slowly descending and that’s when something between the bottom of my thigh and my ankle started to throb. My brain was remembering what the lady said on the speaker. I had to stay in my chair with my seatbelt on. I moved my leg to get rid of the weird, tingly feeling and then all hell broke loose. I had a charlie horse. My leg was stiff and felt like a rock. It was straighter than a ruler and hurt like it was broken. My heart started to pump two times faster and my teeth were grinding against each other. Eyes of my teammates and random people were staring at me as I was dealing with this agonizing pain.

This isn’t the only time people looked at me strangely. I am known to my peers as one who observes more than one who is always talking. As I was quiet this whole plane ride, once I began reacting to this abrupt pain, it caught the eyes of the ones around me. For me to be comfortable in school, I have to see who’s around me and observe the environment I am in. When I am meeting new kids, I have to find out what they like in order to talk to them. “Simple and right to the point,” is how people describe me. When I finally do speak up, it means I have become comfortable and I find this is when people look at me normally.

Comfort isn’t a charlie horse in your leg. If you are unfamiliar with the term “charlie horse,” it is a bad muscle cramp which stiffens your leg and lasts up to around ten minutes. When you are doing something in the broad lines as exercising and not drinking enough liquids, this is when the muscle cramp takes over your leg.

It was during this moment when I learned that when you least expect it, something will happen that you can’t control. Since I was a child, I was taught to work for what I want in life. But, it’s instances like what happened on my plane ride that I understand that sometimes issues pop up but you have to keep going.

Another example of a situation where an issue arose was when I was playing with an older baseball team on a cold day in the fall. The freezing cold forced me to wear a thick hoodie under my jersey. The wind would pick up the dirt on the ground and spray the little particles at whatever direction the wind was going in.

During my first at-bat, I reached first base. The next pitch, I started to run to second and slide feet first to get to the base before I was tagged. Everything was fine until I felt a liquid slowly moving down my leg. I raised my hands in the air and asked for a time out. It started becoming uncomfortable so I pulled my high socks down to my ankles to see blood smeared all over my legs. Luckily it was just a bad scrape and not a broken leg.

This instance was lucky. It was out of my control to burn my leg on the ground but something worse could have happened. If my leg happened to break I would have been out for the whole season and maybe the next one. All of the work I put in—hours of sweat and blood in the gym working to prepare for something I wanted so bad could have been taken away in an instant.

I am a heavy believer in living life to the fullest because I never know what can happen even if I think I’m in control. I treat every day and every time I’m on the field like it is my last. Lives of young kids are always being taken away from them from something they have no control over. Cherishing every small moment in life is important and staying happy instead of angry can positively affect your life along with the ones around you.

Advanced Essay #1: The Idea of Failure

Introduction: For my essay, I tried to find the meaning and the affects that failure has and can have on a person and their goals. To find this answer I reflected on moments from my life where I had failed and wanted to quit because of my failures. I am needless to say very proud of my essay I think I took major failures from different aspects of my life and attempted to dissect those moments to find the effect that failure had on my life. One way I think my essay could be improved is to go more in-depth into what failure exactly is and how many people perceive it. I think next time my writing will hopefully be better than it is currently.

Tuesday Morning. I woke up at 3 o’clock with a sense of readiness to siege the day playing Ultimate Frisbee with my brothers. I made it to Von Coln field at 6 o’clock, walked through the early muddy dirt-covered field staining my new white shoes, I started throwing hoping I retained some of my practice from over the summer. I threw a flick and as the disk left my hand I felt nothing but sadness it just wasn’t where I needed it to be, I threw a backhand as I turned my hips and released I saw the frisbee leave my hand and curve to the ground. I realized couldn’t do the things I thought I could do and I was embarrassed and I had no idea what I was to do. “If you played last year you are with me and if you’re new go with Mr. Henkel. ̈” I followed Heinkel and the rest of the group hoping I would walk away from a better player who got back into the groove of things.

But I didn’t because at the time in my frame of mind I thought I was wasting my time doing something that for a certain period of time I wasn’t as good as I should have been I couldn’t pull it off, I had failed at something and after a while I wanted to quit because of my failure. I went home trying to search deep within myself to find out what I wanted to do and how I was going to bounce back after this setback. ̈ Satisfaction lies in the effort, not in the attainment. Full effort is full victory ̈ Is what appeared on my phone during my moment of self-reflection, As I thought back about my day I had to ask myself where you trying or did you give it you’re all. I took a small failure and I almost quit because for a brief moment I lost faith in myself and my ability to deliver the best that I could give. The more I sat and thought about this small thing that happened to me, I understood that the failures that result in quitting happen to many other people, but sometimes on a much larger scale. It isn’t rare for people to let go of their dreams or goals, quitting after not making it to the place they’re expecting to make it to. I couldn’t count on my fingers the number of times I’ve thought or wanted to quit because of the shame that I thought came with failure, but giving up for me is harder than trying. Failure comes from every aspect of life, work, sports, school, and hobbies, but it’s your failures that make you better. I remember my sophomore year in high school, I was taking Geometry and I remember people telling me that this class wasn’t going to be good or that I wasn’t going to be able to complete the course. Hearing all this I went into class not believing in myself and doubting myself because of what other people were saying. We had taken a standards quiz and I had received my grades for each standard and they were mostly all 3s which indicated I needed more practice and should go get help, I didn’t get the help instead I applied myself and removed the words can’t or won’t. I ended up taking another standards quiz and received close to all 5s. The point I’m attempting to make is that I know and fully understand how people’s words or a person’s actions can affect the belief you have in yourself. The idea of everything being easy is just wrong if you know your worth you’ve gotta go get what you’re worth and not blame your shortcomings on those around you. Recently there was an Ultimate Frisbee tournament the first tournament for all returning players and me, needless to say, was very nervous. As soon as we arrived at Holy Ghost practice began. I threw a flic and although is curved a little it was nice and my backhand that followed was a little too high, but it was straight I was ready to play no matter what setbacks came along with it. ̈Jasir!̈ Leahman shouted. ¨Yes.¨ I nervously said ̈Show it to me.¨ Out of the three games I was in three times which I ran for most of it while I didn’t get the chance to do as much as I would have liked to, I didn’t take it as a loss or as a failure I took it as a building block to improve and to show my worth to my team and myself. I have goals and dreams like everyone else and I fight for them because if you fight hard enough the dreams that you dream and the goals that you now wish to accomplish will eventually come to fruition.

Change

Introduction

My goal for this essay was to make sure that in both of my scenes I was very descriptive and was able to draw the reader’s attention. I wanted the readers to see how I felt in that moment and give a brief description of what the environment looked like. I also made sure that the two scenes connected to a theme where it starts to become clear why these scenes have some type of connection. What I am proud of in this essay is explaining the larger theme. At first, I had a little trouble trying to go in-depth with my theme but as I thought about it more then I saw the bigger picture. One way I could improve my writing process was I could’ve done a better job at being descriptive. I was being descriptive but I could’ve done it in a better way.

Change

As life goes on we experience a lot of things. But, sometimes when those experiences happen you see that there is a theme to whatever event you have experienced. What I’m about to share are my experiences and how they connect to a theme. The first scene is my eighth-grade graduation and the other scene is when I started a STEM program at Penn University in the summer of 2018.

The room was big, there were a lot of people. In the first three rows of the room, there are boys who were wearing blue and girls wearing white. We were all sitting patiently as we were watching the principal speaking at the podium. I would zone out whenever someone would be talking at the podium then I would always look at the window. The window had different designs on it like a bird and a sun shining down on the bird. The window had a pink background and I thought the art on the window was very detailed. I would pull my phone out to check the time only time was moving slow. Maybe time was moving slow so I could soak in the moment I thought. After a few people talked it was time. It was time that my class would get their graduation certificates to go on to high school. One by one they called names to get our certificates. Parents and siblings had their phones out recording the moment. This moment was special to everybody and to me as well. I was very excited waiting to hear the statement. “Ms. Hightower, do you let the class of 2017 move on to the 9th grade?” The climate director asked. “ Mmmmm. I do!” said Ms. Hightower with a smile on her face. “Congratulations you all will be able to move on to the 9th grade!” The climate director announced. Everyone rose up and everyone was joyous and excited. Everyone had a smile on their face. I then again looked up at the window with the design on it and I felt like that bird on the window; flying to my next destination.

Now, as I continue my journey to be successful, I decided to do a summer STEM program in 2018

This summer I tried something new. Every year I went to a summer camp and it was a chance for me to actually do something instead of being in the house bored. This summer I would be sacrificing my fun to go do some more learning at a STEM program at the University of Penn. I would be staying at the campus for five weeks. During the car ride, I was nervous. I was thinking about how I’m going to be away from family and living with people I didn’t know. What if my roommates don’t clean up after themselves? What if most of the kids are rude? What if I had trouble making friends and I couldn’t fit in? I had these thoughts running in my head and then I became anxious for the rest of the car ride. When I got to my dorm it wasn’t what I imagined it to be but it was big. I thought the walls would be a different color and there was going to be a carpet covering the whole floor but I thought wrong. I noticed there were two grey couches as soon as you walked in, they were leather and on the right side was another couch with blue cushions along with a wooden armrest. There were other people in the dorms as well and they seemed pretty excited happy. We all introduced ourselves and continued to unpack. The walls and floors were milky white, mostly all the walls in the dorm were that milky white color. I pulled out the comforter and the sheets as it brought to my attention that I would be away from home for five weeks. But, this would allow me to experience something new and see how college life was. We were done unpacking everything and it was time for the parents to leave. I said my goodbyes to my family and it felt weird. It felt like I was actually going to college; I was starting a new chapter in my life. “Goodbye, son I hope you have a great time and learn something new!” My dad said “Okay, dad I will.” I responded My family left as I was getting ready for a new journey!

These scenes are different but these scenes can both connect under a theme. In both of these scenes, I was experiencing change. In my first scene, I was preparing to leave middle school to move onto high school. Then, in my second scene, I was moving into a college campus for 5 weeks to continue my studies in a STEM program. I noticed that with both of these scenes I choose to move up a step in my life and with entering a new chapter I knew some things weren’t going to be the same. I was a little nervous but I was mostly excited. I had to realize that it is okay to be afraid of change but at some point, I have to come to terms with change. With accepting these changes I learned more about myself and helped me to learn what I am capable of.

"Hakuna Matata"

Intro paragraph : My goal for this essay was to show and try to get my peers to think about this idea of living a life with no worries and living a life where all someone does is worry and think about the bad things in life. I think that in this essay I did a good job of explaining and giving reasons as to why people would and could live both type of lives(carefree and concerned, so that’s what I’m proud of in my essay.

Painting with a twist for the first time. It was such a nice, sunny, summer day, a little hot but a calm breeze blowing just right.I was going to paint today. Painting for real for the first time ever, not just getting a little messy with paint like I did back in middle school art class. I’m going to paint,yay. Sitting in my seat not knowing where I will start from first, Lauryn Hill’s soulful voice filled the room, singing under my breathe so only I can hear. “Strumming my pain with his fingers.” There I was, listening to the instructor as she tells me what to do first. “Pick up your paintbrush and gently dip it into the blue paint, once you have done that start to paint side by side at the top of the canvas,” she says. I pick up my paintbrush and as slowly as possible I dip only the tip of the brush into the paint making sure I didn’t get too much on it so that it wouldn’t drip. Once I do that I put my paintbrush down and wait for some more instructions. The instructor begins speaking again“ now this background has three colors in it blue, which we already did, purple and pink. This shouldn’t be too hard I say in my head as I pick up my brush twirling it in a container of water to make sure all the blue paint is off. Then I begin to paint smoothly onto the canvas with the purple paint covering the whole middle of the canvas. I then finish the background by putting the pink all at the bottom. I look around to see how everyone else’s painting is going and now I’m ready to move to the next part. I wash my brush and dip it into the black paint moving upward making two lines that meet in the middle onto the canvas. It’s smooth and the lines are just about the same size. After gliding my paintbrush on the canvas adding my finish touches I smile from ear to ear very satisfied with my painting. My painting was one of the best and I would love to do painting with a twist again.

I can never understand how so much good can go on but then there can be so much bad as well. Living in a world where anything can happen is pretty scary. Never knowing if something bad will happen at anytime is absolutely mindblowing. I know that people are supposed to look on the brighter side of things and live a happy life but can that really happen when there is so much to worry about in the world? For me causing awareness and being aware of things is very important. Some people may not necessarily care or are worried about it but at least they know about it and can speak on it if they want to. I say all this to say that when I found out about the Paris attack in 2015 I was not only brought to a point of concern but it made me realize how much more aware I need to be about certain things and situations that are worth knowing about.

Sitting in the living room while my mom, who’s in the kitchen filling the whole room with the smell of crispy fried chicken. She takes a break from cooking and comes to sit next to me. I see from the side of my eye that she turns on the news and all I hear is BREAKING NEWS PARIS HAS BEEN ATTACKED. I immediately looked up from my phone and I am locked into the tv. My mouth drops open so big and then a cold chill swifts through my body. “ Oh my goodness,” my mom says as she turns up the television so we can hear it better. What would make someone do this, is what I think in my head as look down back into my phone checking to see if anyone has posted about this. On every news channel you turn this is what they were all talking about. Shaking a little because I was now wondering what does this mean for the US. Are we next? Do they want to attack us for any reason? I honestly didn’t even want to think about it.

How can I be so carefree only thinking about me and painting, but then concerned and worried about the people and Paris and all the different things that are going on in the world. Which brings me to this interesting debate of living a carefree life or living your life with worry. Like Simba said “Hakuna Matata” which means no worries for the rest of your days and a lot of people live their lives by this motto, but some people might think how can you possibly have no worries when there are so many things going on in the world you have to always be on your P’s and Q’s. In life you go through so many different emotions and things ,so you can’t really compare your life to someone else’s same thing with beliefs and worries. Some people just don’t find certain things worth worrying about, Look at life this way, be aware, know what is happening and that my friend is a very fine way of living.

Where do I fit?

Introduction- My goal fo this essay was to explain how teenagers feel, but not talking about clichés. I like how I made my writing very relatable to an average teenager. I could’ve improved on my ending. The first three paragraphs were very strong but I feel like I fell off as my writing continued.

“You make happy, this you can bet, yeah,” I sang to the top of my lungs along with Beyonce. Forgetting all about the broom that is laying at my feet that I’m supposed to be using.

As I begin to break a sweat because I’m currently at the thirty-ninth song of the album I hear my mom screaming. I turn down the volume and begin to frantically look back and forth because I know I was supposed to be cleaning instead of pretending to be one of Beyonce’s backup dancers. Making me think to myself, “ why didn’t I just do as I was told in the first place?” I am a sixteen girl, with two jobs and currently, a junior in high school. You would think I have so much say so in my life but I don’t. It’s not what I say that goes; it’s what my mother says. I have so much power but then again none at all. People tend to forget how much responsibility teenagers have but then again we have so little. The definition of responsibility is the opportunity or ability to act independently and make decisions without authorization. Although we have a slight taste of responsibility, we as teenagers cannot fully grasp the concept because most of us aren’t allowed to act independently due to our parents.

Trying to learn how to adjust to life we begin to constantly test our figures of authority; not to be disobedient but to learn the limits. We’re not ten anymore. An average sixteen-year-old doesn’t have a certain bedtime but then again is expected to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Teenagers move in a grey area because things are no longer black and white. We no longer learn from what our elders tell us. We’re just expected to know everything, but then again we’re always told we’re “too young” to know what we’re talking about. Leaving us with very little authority. It’s like flipping a coin, starting off there is always a fifty-fifty chance of actually being the authority figure. However when you add more factors your chances either increase or decrease. For instance, if you have younger siblings or have nieces and nephew it increases the chance of you being able to have some sort of oversight of someone else’s life. With me, it’s my nieces. They are at the age of four and six. I’m allowed to discipline them but only to a certain extent. I remember a time I was back in that grey area because I was being told what to do as I was telling some else something different.

I walk through the doors and instantly the smell of buttered popcorn hit my nose. I see all the little kids run to their parents to only think about how this is probably their first time seeing this movie. They wouldn’t be able to sing along or anticipate the line. With them, everything is so new and to me, this is just a remake to a classic. I look down to see my nieces and witness how much joy there was in their eyes. We’re all so excited to see this big screen as the lights begin to dim. As always the theater is full of distractions, from yelling toddlers, ringing phones, to someone behind me smacking in my ear. My nieces wouldn’t stay still and were easily distracted because it wasn’t that interesting to them as it was to me. I constantly feel them moving and notice how jittery they were due to the enormous ICCE they had just finished. I knew that I would be rudely interrupted to take not only one but both to the restroom. Minutes later I get a tap on my leg asking can I take them. I knew it was coming so I couldn’t be too mad, and it’s not like I don’t know what’s going to happen next in the movie. Yet I still don’t want to get up to walk out of the movie theater and take two toddlers to the restroom.

Knowing I wanted to tell them no but I couldn’t because as I was looking down at them with annoyance my mom was doing the same to me. I wanted to tell them no and continue watching the movie but I couldn’t. I had no right to tell my mom “I don’t want to walk them. Can you do it?” In this case scenario, I couldn’t make a decision for myself without getting approval from another.

My Adventures in Marathoning

Kayla Kelly

English 3

9.20.19

Introduction: My goals for this essay was one, to be more organized. Two to be very descriptive. three, refrain from typing words such as like and pretty much.

     I am proud of how descriptive I wrote it because while writing this essay I thought it would be very great if I did a very descriptive description of marathoning because then you can imagine what it would feel like running a marathon. And I am proud of the ending because it was a little hard for me to write, but also because it reflects the person in me that shows people they can do anything they put their mind to.

     One thing to improve my writing process is maybe to remember to refrain from saying a word such as like and pretty much because I did delete the words when I was polishing the draft but I still typed them. And maybe try not to overwrite on the first draft.

                    My Adventure in Marathoning

“It’s the day I die,” I said to my dad at 3:30 in the morning, getting ready for a 4 am a bus for the 7:30 am a marathon, I had my blue race day shirt over my black and white windbreaker and my grey legging and did everything else in a hurry. I got on the bus with a mixed emotion of excitement and nervousness. We went to the race went inside where the tents are, Mrs.londo put down her bag to give us some brownies and disgustingly tasting GU energy gels, and while we are waiting ms. Londo told me ” if I say to go you go”, at the time I didn’t think much of it, then waited at the porta-potties for a while , then waited at the gear check , I heard the loud noise of a fog horn being blown to signal the start as the race, and so we waited a little more put our gear in to the brown UPS truck ,we went in to our coral but I actually started at 7:30 am because all students run people go in the back corral and we wait 30 minutes, I took my throwaways off so I was shivering in the cold and tearing I had no idea whether it was because I was nervous and all or it was the wind hitting my face. Then I am very close to the starting point, then I remind my self the core values of Student-Run, courage effort and respect. Courage, effort, and respect, the core value of a great leader, I am a leader, I have the responsibility of a leader. I am a leader because I am the person that does something that almost no one else wants to do, I do the things that are very hard to do I encourage people to do the right thing, I do the thing for the people who can’t, not for the people who don’t want to do it,. I have courage, effort, and respect in a lot of places, which makes me a great leader, people might say we don’t have great people around anymore, but I think there is the leader all in specific places, great people who inspire people. I am running on to Arch, I just feel happy while running in this moment, and then ms.londo said appreciate this amazing sunset over the water by 3 miles around where spruce street harbor park. We were coming on to the bridge going over the Schuylkill we saw a person in a dinosaur costume with you are going to be dino-sore tomorrow and ms.londo said appreciate this person dressed up in a dinosaur costume and I did appreciate it. Then my favorite song, Machine by imagine dragon play as I came up to 14th mile where I saw my dad cheering for me and I high fived him, then I came around mile 17 my legs where dying. They hurt so much, the right leg like as if it is being run over by a truck otherwise called the wall, but we were not taking a long walk ms.londo said so I kept going. Then again I though courage effort and respect I thought that through my wall, I am a leader, I have to show people that since I can do it, you can do it, and I will definitely get through this with or with out pain. Then at 20th mile and my pain was dying down, but Kylie and Zack hit their wall, I just told them “ I know we can do it, What I do at a time like this is I think about the end, the hot dogs you’ll eat some food, you get to rest and sit” trying the best I can to encourage them to keep going , Because that is what leaders do, but they both stopped, and ms.londo said,” go ahead” and at that time I knew what she meant by going when she said go and so I left them at 20th mile, I felt a little sad leaving them, but I was at Manayunk and they have the best cheer station with a lot of music and cheering. And so coming on kelly drive very close to being done. then I thought yes it is amazing, I am inspiring others, but it takes a team to encourage you, and build your spirt on the 20 miles. “Almost there, almost dead, but almost there,” I encouraged my self at 26 Miles. At this point my whole body hurt and was tired and drained, I felt like I could barely move my leg to the finish line but yet I still did. With some people in the bleacher encouraging me, leading me down to the finish line,” I made it, I finished a marathon “, I told my self, then I got to my team with my plastic heat sheet wrapped around my waist, then I was staring blankly on the ground for 5 minutes, then we huddled and swayed side to side, then we took a group photo, then walked all the way to the bright yellow bus and went home. At school the next day Jeremy said I was 5th in my division, then it felt like as if I wasn’t a leader because kylie would have gotten an award for being 5th in her division, if I just stayed, every time I see the plaque I see me leaving my team behind. But then I remember ms.londo said I have to go, maybe its because I inspire others, because when I started out I hated running, ms.londo once said a marathon is 26.2, my first thought was NO, but now with finishing 26.2 miles, 5th in my division is inspiring my leaders to say I inspired them with my story, so here I am releasing all of my regret of leaving them behind.

Advanced Essay #1 - Exhausted

Introduction:

The goal for this essay is to talk about how it better to do a few extracurriculars than so many at once. I explain how it can be stressful, the negative effect of doing so many at once, and why it not easy to just stop doing an extracurricular. I am proud of linking two completely different descriptive scenes and finding a common theme to flesh it out into a bigger idea. What I want to improve for my writing process and technique for my next paper is to not overdo the descriptive language. I felt like I added too much unnecessary detail to describe what I am feeling and the setting around me. Also I felt like the transition from my scene to my big idea was unsmooth. I need to work out on a smooth transition

Advance Essay #1:

It was a cool Monday afternoon as I quickly walked up out of the ill-light subway station. I started my journey home from school. The gentle wind blows against my face as I walked down the street. I was alone with my calm, relaxing music while I thought about what I had to do to prepare for tomorrow. I sighed to myself as I realize how much I had to for school additionally with weekend homework I had.

I try to pace myself faster as I walk down the street but my legs felt tight and exhausted from practice. Spriting five laps around the school building took an enormous amount of energy. With the addition of frisbee practice in the morning, all I can think about was sleep. I slowly approach the front of my house, fumble around for my keys, and open the door.

I slowly stomped my way up the stairs and into my room. I threw my bookbag down as I collapsed onto my bed. The softness of my bed made my heart slowly beat now as I started to feel relaxed. I reach into my pocket to grab my phone. I started to play some chill, nice, quiet music. As the sound of music flows into my room. I lay in bed with my thoughts and slowly my eyes become heavy. My vision started to blur and darken and my hearing slowly faded away. There laying in bed, I fell asleep. It was the most relaxed I felt all day.

Ever since my junior year of high school has started, I’ve never been more excited to see my bed after school during my high school career. I am in cross country, students run practice and ultimate frisbee. With all of these activities, a regular day can range from 5:30 am - 6:30 pm. I never really minded the long days when I was in my freshman-sophomore year as the workload was pretty average. I believed I could keep this up for my whole high school career being involved with a lot of physical activities along with my education. I was pretty good at time management so I did not see it as an issue to me. I am a good student who rarely does badly in class after all. I decided to do the three sports.

As I got home from school, I was in my room and I started to reflect on an obvious problem I began to notice throughout the school year last year. My sleeping schedule was messed up. I had only gotten 5-6 hours of sleep every day. During benchmark season it is even less. Doing homework, concentrating, and listening to directions became harder and harder each day. I can recall a day when I almost fell asleep in class.

I remember it was late afternoon when I sat in history class learning about the different empires throughout history. Everyone was quiet and all eyes were on Mr.Todd as he gave his boring lecture about empires. I had a hard time paying attention. My eyes felt heavy as I tried to pay attention to Mr. Todd. I rolled my head around and shook it everytime my vision started to blur and my hearing began to fade away. All because of last night.

I was up all night working on my Algebra 2 benchmark. I was already exhausted coming home at 6 o’clock from physical activities. My desk was like a war zone, papers everywhere, scattered around. Directions for benchmarks and worksheets from all my classes covered my desk. On my computer, numerous tabs were open from google docs to my sources, to spreadsheets filled with numbers as I put in my final touches for my Algebra 2 benchmark. My head started to spin and I could feel the exhaustion taking over my body. It wasn’t until 12 that I decided to submit it and call it “my best work.” I lay on my bed and instantly fell asleep.

I began to realize that I had a clear problem. I realized that the overwhelming amount of stress and exhaustion were taking a toll on me physically and mentally. The lack of sleep I been having was affecting my performance in school. Although I was able to complete things on time without a problem, it negatively impacted me by being tired throughout the day. It caused me to miss things that were said in class and not pay attention much of what was going on. This also affected my social life. While being exhausted, I felt miserable and unhappy. This caused me to have mood swings. The littlest thing can bother me so much and make to get angry. I would often have short outbursts at home and even at school for unnecessary and silly reasons. The stress and exhaustion were getting in my way in having a successful and happy career in high school.

It was not only that stress and lack of sleep that brought me down, but me being oblivious to the fact that I think it ok I can manage three sports all at the same time. I love playing all three sports but you have to choose to do one at the end of the day. You have to understand that it is better for one or two things because you be able to commit to it and see the improvements as you continue to commit. If you do a bunch of things all at the same time, you will not be able to commit and do those things as well. An even bigger problem is that once you join all of these activists/sports, you feel pressure to continue to do it and not quit. Everyone in each of the activities and/or sports are counting on you and the role you play in. The idea of quitting makes everyone have a negative view on you. It feels like you have let everyone down and be label you as a quieter. Everyone gonna look down on you as if you are weak. It is important for people to understand that you have to make a wise choice and think ahead how much extracurriculars you can handle. Do not overwork yourself and it always better to do one or two extracurriculars than doing many extracurriculars. Knowing that you have to quit does not show a sign of weakness at all but knowing what you can manage and what you can not manage.

Advanced Essay: Bear

Introduction: My goal for writing this essay was to highlight the idea of fear and really simplify what it is that we are truly scared of underneath our imagination of ghosts and monsters. Before writing this, I never really understood what my fears came from but after so much analyzation and speculation regarding my experiences with the bears, I realized that it was really all about control. I think that one way I could’ve improved my writing process was if I had an essay plan that I could follow. If I was able to go back, I feel like this would’ve really made writing my essay a lot simpler.

Like many children, I feared many things as a kid. Ghosts, the dark, monsters, and sharks. Although, logically, these things could never hurt me, my imagination was bigger than common knowledge. Therefore, I spent most of my childhood sleeping with a night light on and avoiding the depths of the ocean. But every once in a while, kids are taught to face their fears. Sometimes a big revelation comes from it and sometimes these encounters will just allow us to paint our imaginations to be even darker than before. “Look at that!” my father quietly whispers in concentration as he stares out of our porch window. I rub my eyes trying to wake myself from my sleep as it had only been the early hours of the morning. I begin to walk up to the window, curious to see what my father had been fixated on. I stop in my tracks as soon as I realize what is waiting on my porch. It’s a bear! My eyes widen at the sight. There it stands, so large and intimidating, about 6 feet tall, brown and course furr, with black eyes that seem to welcome frightening thoughts that pass through my head. It slowly ambles through the deck on it’s colossal paws that flaunts it large, shiny claws. His head keeps low as he is unaware of his audience. I look up at my dad, helpless and vulnerable, desperate for security. As years built on my life, so did my fears. Seeing that bear, reminded me of just how random and unexpected, the experiences in life can be. Thinking back on just how close I was to the beast, made me think; “Am I in control of my safety or am I simply relying on fate?”. A few years later, I encountered yet another situation that made me feel even more curious of this answer. I sit in the back seat of my father’s old and run down toyota alongside my older sister and brother. We had been on a long car ride that had seemed to drone on for hours. It was fall. The leaves that were once green and in their prime of summer were now dull and brittle due to the inevitable transitioning of seasons. The subtle twists and turns of the endless Pocono roads seem to put me in a deep trance as I look through the depth of the forest that surrounds the black pavement we travel on. As I watch, I examine the many customs that it had to offer. The beautiful trees, the colorful leaves scattered on the muddy floor of the vegetation, marked by the coming of fall, and all the life the forest had to offer. I look deeper and deeper in, slowly becoming consumed in it’s quiet tranquility. My daze is broken when I see something big and dark out in the distance. It ushers slowly by the trees, head low and oblivious of its surroundings. It’s another bear! My stomach drops of fear and my heart beats fast. A hundred thoughts run through my head, all having the same dark ending: me ending up in the grasp of his big, shiny claws. I shudder at the thought but shake it off, knowing deep down that I was protected by the metal exterior of my father’s car. As I look back on both of my encounters with the bears, I begin to realize that they are both situations in which I encountered the core value of fear. In both situations, I found myself vulnerable and lost; unable to recognize reality from ridiculous thoughts I had conjured up by fear. Seeing these bears, brought forth panic. A feeling that for some reason, I couldn’t shake. No matter where I was or how safe I felt deep down, the thoughts in my head were so loud that I couldn’t focus on logic. I could only listen to my mind telling me that I will end up being a victim of the bear, that no matter how in control of the situation I was, I would somehow lose all restraint and find myself in a position of danger. Looking back on these experiences remind me of when I’m sitting on top of a ledge of a building and I suddenly think to myself: What if I lost all control of my body and jumped?. Fear is essentially the idea that we will one day lose control of our own selves and our actions. It doesn’t matter who the victim is or how their mind works. No matter how stable you think you are, you will never know just how vulnerable you are until you encounter what scares you the most. That one thought that gives you chills as you stand alone in the dark, unable to find that sense of control you once had. Your head gets foggy and your heart beats uncontrollably. And once you are brought to safety and the chills on your back had finally settled, you begin to think to yourself: was it the presence of the imaginary monster that scared me or was it the loss of control?

Advanced Essay #1:Change is inevitable

Introduction: My goal for this essay was to bring comfort to the reader. Change is something that everyone must endure. Although change may be uncomfortable the things that come from it are necessary for personal growth. I am proud of my overarching idea in this essay because it’s something I will remember for the rest of my life. I would like to improve getting m point across in more detailed and concise sentences.

Advanced Essay #1: I heard my mom shout my name up the two flights of stairs from my kitchen to the attic, where my cluttered room was. My stomach dropped when I realized I forgot to empty the dishwasher when I got home from school. I rushed downstairs preparing to get the usual lecture when my dad called me into the living room. Where my mom, dad, and brother all sat in uncomfortable silence. I sat down and waited to hear what I predicted was terrible news. I immediately began to think of every possible thing they could be preparing to tell me. I blurted out, “What is this about?”. My foot began to tremble while I chewed on my fingernails as stress overcame my body. My mom said that someone bought our house. My heart dropped, I never imagined that this would happen. Everything that I remember was in that house. When I thought matters couldn’t get any worse my dad began to explain how we were moving to Philadelphia at the end of the school year. Tears began to build in my eyes. Without saying anything I calmly walked out of the room, through the kitchen and up the two flights of stairs to my room where I slammed my door. All my jackets fell from the rusty hook on the back of the door as I collapsed onto my bed. I looked around my room and all I could think was that it wouldn’t be mine for much longer. Everything I knew and loved was going to change. New school, new house, new room, new friends, new challenges. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want summer to start. I guess it was my fear of change that scared me the most. The unknown. I was afraid of everything that came with moving. I began to cry as I examined things in my room I never paid any mind to. I peered out of the window my bed had been pushed up to for as long as I could remember and watched the sunset. I tried to create a plan to prevent the upcoming disaster but deep down I knew it was inevitable. I couldn’t imagine restarting my whole life. I never wanted to move, I loved my house. With its fading yellow walls and hundreds of willowing books. I didn’t want someone else to get the treehouse, my brother, dad and I built for my 7th birthday. I didn’t want another family to cover our memories with theirs. Fast forward 12 months. I’ve made the once frightening city my home. If someone were to tell me that this would be my life as I hopelessly laid in bed that night, I would’ve never in a million years believed them. I have since then met so many amazing people and have grown a genuine love for school. I can happily say that although my world crumbled around me I have made an even more beautiful life here. I’ve realized that change is a blessing in disguise. Once I made it through the painful nights and lonely days I made this my home. I discovered that nothing is permanent, nothing except myself and my family. Life is too short to focus on things that we cannot change.

Advanced Essay #1 : Understand.

Introduction-

For this essay, I tried to do what I hate to do the most, and open up in this essay. I tried to let the reader into my mind and how far I’ve come. I’m proud of being able to complete this and give insight into my life and the people who influence it. By the time I write my next paper, I want to expand on reflections rather than spend so much time on descriptions.

Eliana Alfaro-Allah Air Stream 9/20/19

The cold air nipped at me from all sides as I stared out at the river. The sun had already set, but the light hadn’t left the sky. It was no longer orange; it had become a dim sky blue that hung above our heads. Two small brothers laughed joyously as one of them happily tugged a kite along the riverside, the small amount of sand squeezing in between their toes.

I got bored as soon as I sat down. I looked around for entertainment, and cast my eyes down toward the ground. I immediately spotted a small rock, its reds and oranges shining past the dreary and dull greys of the pebbles it laid among. I picked it up, grimacing at the dirt on my fingers but hurriedly cleaned it off. I smiled down at the treasure, admiring it with joy.

“You know-” my aunt’s thick accented voice interrupted my spacing out as I turned up to look at her. Her long, chestnut-colored braid dangled with a flower at the end like a pendulum as she sat down beside me. “If you want to take anything from nature, you have to ask permission first.”

I blinked, utterly confused by the statement. I looked back down at the rock, smoothing it out in my fingertips before looking up at Zafra. “How do I know if they say yes or not?”

Zafra snorted, the sound turning into a chorus of delighted giggles. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders before pulling me flush against her, resting her cheek on top of my head. “You’ll just know, I suppose.”

Zafra was always insightful. She had frequent revelations and nuggets of wisdom, always on hand. When I went to Chile for the first time, I had no idea what to think. I hadn’t even left the United States, and I hadn’t spoken Spanish in a long time, and now I was going somewhere completely new where the only person I knew was my grandmother. My grandmother had a bad habit of withholding information from me, so I didn’t exactly know where we were going until the cab from the airport took us to a small apartment on the corner of Lota and Hernando de Aguirre. I was lacking any sort of guiding motion in my life at that point. My mother worked so much that I hardly saw her, and while one of my sisters had moved back in with us, she was hastily learning a trade, so I barely saw her either. Nobody to ground me or show me they understood. I had gotten accustomed to it until I met Zafra.

She was a kind and gentle soul, a psychologist who had a wholesome faith in humanity. And toward the beginning, as much as she tried to get me to open up, I wouldn’t budge. Her profession made me wary, reminding me of some sort of talented robot. Of course she pretended to be interested in my life. She lived to learn. The classic ‘good doctor’, just wanting to fix.

But she never gave up. She was always eager to greet me in the mornings, all the way down to tending to my last need at night. She brought me copious amounts of sweets and gifts. I took the acts as ones of bribery. But she had me cornered in the kitchen one day. She had been fixing me tea, and had asked if I liked Chile. I told her that it was a dream. What wasn’t there to love? Great food, nice views, everything’s cheap, I wished I could live there. Zafra was pleased with my answer, but followed it up by asking that if that was true, why was I silent so often?

I didn’t know how to respond. This woman, my aunt, was so sweet and kind, if I wasn’t honest, it would take such a toll on me. So I told her. I keep to myself usually, but it’s just that I hadn’t spoken Spanish in a while, and sometimes it came out like jagged, broken shards of a glass vase. She turned to me, and said the words that I had been meaning to hear for so long. “I understand you.”

I wouldn’t be so emotional over it had it been for the fact that we both knew she wasn’t just talking about language. My facade can take the form of many things. In America, I played the smiling fool, airheaded and dopey to bring a light atmosphere to heavy undertones of my life. In Chile, I could be the shy and pensive girl, only people in America knew that I hated people like that with a passion and I wasn’t shy so much as I just disliked people. But Zafra looked straight through me and told me that she understood all of it.

She took me to a fair close to the end of the trip. After a day of fun, we waited at the bus stop in anticipation to be taken back to Santiago when Zafra nudged me, giving me a glance of the bundle of paper in her hands. She unraveled a set of churros, that we all began to wolf down. I told her that it reminded me of funnel cake.

She tilted her head in confusion. “Funnel cake? What kind of cake is that?”

I hummed, tapping my chin and picking at a loose thread of my cargo pants. “It’s not really… cake. It’s strips of batter like this, fried with powdered sugar. It’s basically the same as churros, just… spaghetti.”

“Hmm…” Zafra nodded, closing her eyes and thinking. “I understand you. And you eat that on what occasions?”

I smiled, finishing the last bite of mine before brushing off my white-speckled hands on my pants. “Fairs, like this. They had a county fair in my other grandma’s town every summer when we went to visit her.”

Zafra looked down at me, her lips curling up in a small smile. “Do you miss her?”

I yawned. “I’m supposed to.”

And she understood. Zafra, while I hated to open myself up in the moment, let me become a softer version of myself under her guise. She helped me to become more trusting, less hateful, and my friends especially can see it. She saw me for what I wanted to be, not what I emulated, and treated me kindly and caringly. I take every conversation, every story over tea, every story and chunk of love she gave me and carry it with me and try to share it with others. Even if I can’t help anyone hurting, or erase what made them so bitter, I can do what Zafra taught me. I can understand.

Advanced Essay #1: Feelings...

                      Introduction

My goal for this essay is to my readers to understand that it’s not a bad thing to feel different emotions when dealing with school. Something that I am proud of is how my words really expressed how I was feeling. One way that I want to improve in my writing process for my next paper is learning how I want to form it, so that my essay isn’t all over the place.

                       Feelings...

School will always be something that’s on your mind. The mindset of school can be a good thing or a bad thing. When it’s the first day of school, most people don’t know what to expect, so they immediately get nervous. I was one of those people.

Ugh! Do I have to go to school? Why can’t I have at least one more week of summer? Is junior year going to be hard? What is it going to be like in a new building? I just don’t want to go. I just know that this year is going to be stressful just because that’s exactly how it was for my sophomore year. It was just work piled after work, and I know it’s going to be the same for my junior year.

September 6th, 2019. The day I started junior year. Waking up at 5:15 A.M almost killed me. I got dressed and put on my red Vans shirt, black jeans, red vans, and black shayla. Still asking myself: Why do I have to go to school?

Going through the doors of Ben Franklin with one of my closest friends Alyssa, all I could feel was nervousness all of a sudden. All I wanted to do was wake up from this nightmare I was having, and say “it was just a dream.” I even had to pinch myself to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming. The sad thing about this was, IT WASN’T!

All of a sudden, the friends that I haven’t seen all summer started to give me hugs and make conversation with me. I don’t know why, but it gave me comfort. From that point on, I wasn’t even stressing about the fact that I was actually in school. My friends just made me extremely happy by making me super comfortable with the environment that I was in. Turns out, it wasn’t a bad day after all!

It was a regular Thursday night. Paperwork all over my bed. Just tired of working, and ready to go to sleep. Stressed was the only word to describe how I was feeling that night.

Sophomore year. We just received a mini project for Mr. Kay. The assignment stated that it had to be a cartoon relating to the book we read and it has to be scanned on an app called “Cam Scanner.” I never had to scan anything before, so I wasn’t sure how to actually use it. I tried to make sure I finished the project a day earlier from when it was due, so I can see how to use the “Cam Scanner” app. Unfortunately, I didn’t meet my goal, so I had to complete my project the night it was due. The problem I was having with this app was that I didn’t know how to make it into a pdf, so that I can turn it in on canvas at 11:59 pm.

By this time, it was 11 P.M and I’ve been trying to figure out this “Cam Scanner” app for 2 hours now. I couldn’t call any of my classmates to figure it out, because they were also trying to complete their own projects. I started freaking out.

Moments later, my mother came into my room and asked what was wrong. She sat on my bed and looked concerned.

“What’s going on Sukainah,” she asked. Crying in her arms is all I remember. I just cried, until no more tears came out of my eyes. All she did was comfort me as I needed a moment to get myself together.

After having a moment with my mother and explaining to her what I was stressed out about, she showed me how to use the “Cam Scanner.”

Within 15 mins, I got the assignment done! All I needed was comfort and guidance to accomplish my goal that night.

Something that I realized is that comfort is all I need. When you have comfort from the people you love and who also loves you, it makes you feel a lot better. For example, if my I didn’t see my friends on the first day, I probably would have just been nervous. The weird thing about this is that it’s my third year in SLA and till this day, I still don’t understand why I was so nervous.

Also, if I didn’t get comfort from my mother about my project, I probably would of just sat there in my own tears stressing myself out. The feelings I had can definitely have a similarity to the real world. For example, students can often feel nervous on their first day of school. The reason for this nervousness can be, because they don’t know what to expect on their first day. Also, students can often feel stressed when doing any assignment. The only way to express ourselves sometimes is to cry, because we might not know what else to do. With the comfort of someone when having any type of emotion, can make things 10 times better.

Advanced Essay-Accepting My Mental Health

Introduction This essay was made me really have to think outside of my normal writers box. I was able to learn how to write an essay that tells a story. When it comes to goals,one of my main goals was to eventually have an essay that I was proud of. An essay that I would be happy to submit. When it comes to something that I am proud of it would be my ending I was really able to tie the whole essay together. For improvements I would definitely have wanted to think through my whole essay structure before starting the writing process. All in all, I am proud of the essay that I have produced.

My breath comes out choppy and infrequent. I feel a lump forming in my throat. I feel a knot forming in my stomach. I feel the tears on the edges of my eyes that yearn to come out. I feel my heart pounding out of my chest. My mind starts to run a mile a minute. I start to feel like everything is out of control. Like I can’t do anything to fix everything that is wrong. That everything that’s wrong is somehow my fault. I know this is not true but I can’t shake the feeling. I try to calm myself down but it’s hard. Hard to get out of my head. Out of this panicked state that I am in.

This is the first big anxiety attack that I can remember. I remember feeling very out of place. I felt like everything was out of my control. I remember trying to remind myself that everything was going to be okay. To breathe. Looking back I probably knew that this was all in my head, that I was not in any imminent danger. That this feeling would eventually pass.

Everyone’s anxiety is different but for me, it is a lot of thinking ahead of where I have to be. I do this to compensate for the fact that I do not like not knowing things. This is because anxiety is when the brain reacts to being anxious in the same way it does being afraid. For me, my brain also reacts to stress in this way. This is a way that I do not to be in when I am feeling anxious or stressed.

It is towards the end of benchmark season sophomore year. I am on my way to Geometry and I stop in the bathroom before class. I open the door of the dark blue stall. and sit down on the cold plastic seat. I notice that I feel a little shaky. I place two fingers on my chest and can feel my heartbeat pounding on my fingers. “Why am I anxious?” I think to myself. And at that moment I can’t think of a reason. This just makes me more panicked. “Why am I anxious,” I think again to myself more frantically. There must be a reason I can’t just be panicking for nothing right? This can’t just be random. I take a deep breath and remind myself that whatever this is it will be okay, that everything is fine. That no one is in danger. I take a deep breath and step out of the bathroom and walk to class.

If I could do anything to prevent these anxiety attacks I most definitely would. This one was less intense than the other one. Since it was during benchmark season it was probably more stress-induced rather than being anxious. This meant that I just had to take a step back to regather my bearings and then go on with life. This goes to show that not all anxiety attacks are heavy breathing and convulsing on the floor. Some can be so small that they almost go unnoticed, these overtime just become an annoyance in day to day life. Sometimes it can be a simple as a lump in my throat or my breath getting a little heavier.

Others of them cause a halt in your day to day activities. In times like these, my heart is beating out of my chest, and I feel like there’s nothing I can do about it. Either way, they are not fun to deal with. Do I like that I have to do deal with this? No, definitely not. Have I come to terms with the fact that I will have to deal with this for the rest of my life? Sort of. I know that it will not go away but I do know that there are ways to decrease feelings of anxiety and ways to feel more in control. To anyone else who deals with anxiety I know that it sucks but you will be okay. You will find ways to cope and it will get easier. I promise.

Advance Essay #1: Long Distance

Introduction:

My goals for this essay were to write something that would really stick people and make them realize something and see things differently. I wanted it to be memorable for them and for the essay’s idea to develop into a bigger, deeper topic by the end. I am very proud of how the essay turned out, I think my theme ended up developing into something very interesting: objects, memories, and connection and I think the descriptive writing in my scenes really immerses the reader. Although I had a hard time coming up with my scenes as for some reason I couldn’t remember anything as soon as we were assigned to write about memory, I think the scenes fit into my essay well and take the readers by surprise as there is not much foreshadowing to what happens in them. For my next paper, I would like to improve how much analysis I have in my essay because even though I liked having my scenes, I could have written more analysis to really go even deeper on the theme.

Essay:

Frequently moving has left my house lacking in sentimental objects. I hold very few things at value as I’ve learned not to get too attached to them. The few items that I have that matter to me contain the story of my life, past, and family. At the same time, my memories have been the main thing that I have been able to take with me wherever I go.

In my house, I have a palm-sized alpaca, which is made from wire that can only be seen in the feet, where it is looped for each foot so it can stand up. It is covered in real fur, which is apparent by the smell that’s similar to that of a pine tree. Over the years some of the fur has fallen off, revealing the white leather beneath. The details of the face are made with black string sewn onto the leather in a caricature style noted by the big eyes. Placed around its neck is one of the decorations put on llamas’ ears, the size of a bracelet, which stands out by its bright green, yellow, fuchsia, and maroon colours.

I can still remember when I got my little alpaca. It was during one of our trips to the North of Chile, a few days before we traveled to Peru. Right when I saw it, I knew I had to have it. It became a real pet to me and I would take it everywhere with its yellow leash that I had made from yarn. After visiting Peru, we were afraid that on our plane ride back Chilean customs would confiscate it, thinking it had been made in Peru and brought to Chile. So, to get it across we hid it between our clothes and were able to safely get it back to its rightful home.

For many years, my alpaca had a special place in my room, where I could look at it and remember all it had taken for it to be where it was. As I grew older, I stopped paying as much attention to it, getting used to its presence. Years later, when I moved to Canada, I left my beloved alpaca behind. There it stayed for five years until I finally returned to Chile and rediscovered it, abandoned in an old box. Now that I live in the U.S., my alpaca has reclaimed its spot in my room, where I can fully appreciate and recall its story.

My memories from Chile are limited since I left when I was so young. It takes a lot for them to resurface and even then it almost seems like they were a dream and part of somebody else’s life. This is especially because the moments feel far away, and are mostly foggy to me. Most of what I remember are either small, random details or surreal, almost movie-like experiences, dramatized by my young mind. One of those moments shares a lot of similarities with the getting of my alpaca.

A year after the alpaca debacle, we were at the airport ready to travel again. Canape, my hamster was buzzing in his cage. He was grey with a dark stripe running along his backbone and crazed eyes almost bulging out of his head. We had no one to care for him while we were away, so we couldn’t leave him behind. I took him out of his cage and placed him in his travel box, his little whiskers wiggling as he took in the new scents around him. We knew that if we checked him in with the airline he would be put in the cargo hold of the plane and we were afraid he wouldn’t survive the trip.

We checked in our suitcases and it was time to go through security. My eyes trailed along the line of people placing all their belongings on the grey trays and preparing to pass through the tall metal detectors. Our turn came to be inspected. I looked back to my dad who had placed Canape’s cage in a bag, but the little grey ball of fur was nowhere to be seen. “You can go,” said one of the officers. I walked across the metal detector, fearing that it would ring even though there was no reason for it to. My parents both made it through without any alarm and as we started to get our things from the grey tray, my dad opened his hoodie pocket and inside two small eyes stared up at me, it was Canape.

Overtime, the stories my parents have told me of my childhood, have become so ingrained, they have become my own memories. This was one of the few events that I needed my mom to assure me that it had really happened. Almost like a movie or a TV show, it seems unreal. Because we lived far away from the rest of our family, we would visit frequently, mainly staying in my grandparents’ home. We would spend Christmas there, and wait until midnight to open our presents together. I have many memories like that from that house like how my cousins and I would hide under the long-legged bed and would light up whenever one of our parents gave us money to get candy from the store next door. The most memorable one though being a time that brought us closer than we ever thought we could be.

That night I remember not being able to fall asleep. We had just arrived to visit my grandparents after a long trip and I was sleeping in my dad’s old room. It was a small room with a twin-sized bed and some shelving whose outline could vaguely be seen. It was dark but the light from the window caught my attention. Through the curtains I could see as the streetlights lit the pavement, creating a shadow of the contents of the street within the room. Movement caught my attention. The telephone pole outside almost seemed to be vibrating, moving of its own accord. Was I just imagining this? I passed it off as me just being tired, closing my eyes and letting sleep wash over me…

“Wake up!” my parents jolted me awake. Rubbing my eyes I realized something was wrong. Everything was shaking. I could hear the voices of my uncles, aunts, and cousins outside the room. My parents pulled me up and took me downstairs where we found the rest of our family huddled in a corner in the living room. It was still really dark and I realized I must not have been asleep for that long. As I took in my surroundings, I realized it was shaking harder now and I could hear the breaking of glass as some of my grandmother’s decorative plates were falling. It was the only sound I could really hear other than the creaking of the wood of the house. I’d felt earthquakes before but never this bad, still fear never crossed my mind as my parents held me tight. There we stayed the whole night, in that corner, waiting for the shaking beneath our feet to come to an end.

My memory from that moment is still vivid and although I don’t get to see my family very often—in fact, I haven’t seen them in the last three years, which in and of itself seems bizarre—I still miss them and feel connected to them through my memories. Regularly moving from country to country has made me feel detached from places and people, like I’ve had four different lives and no deep-seated roots. My family is the one thing that has stayed constant and I know that they are always thinking of me just like I am of them. Being away, the most precious thing are those memories that even though they seem like a dream, they are the connection to my origins and childhood.

Fear

Introduction: My goals for this essay were to understand fear and for the reader to understnd fear. I am proud of my bigger idea. I think that my bigger idea is very detailed and gives enough of an explantion for the reader to understand. One way I would improve my essay is by formatting better.

Advanced Essay: It is a cold summer morning, in Ireland, the birds are chirping and I can hear the waves as they splash against the rocks. I was with my mom, brother, sister, and some extended family, we are planning on crossing this wooden bridge to get to an island. The bridge was wooden there is rope on each side holding the bridge up. Underneath the bridge is a huge drop in to the ocean and rocks. It was a windy day and the area was packed with tourists. As we wait in line I am thinking. What if the bridge breaks? What if the wind is too strong and I get knocked off? I am so nervous but I pull it together and continue waiting. While I wait I breathe in and out in and out. I can hear my heart rate go down. I finally get to the bridge, I cross slowly being very mindful of my surroundings. When I get to the other side I feel a lot of relief. I look around, I look at the grass,the sky and the ocean everything is so beautiful. The grass is so vast and untouched by any human. The sky was this light blue color. I was so amazed by the view. When me and my family head back we see a family crossing as I look up I see them jumping on the bridge. Suddenly my heart starts to get faster. I start to cry and worry about the worst things that could happen. My thoughts start to race. I say I can’t cross the bridge. I can’t get to the other side. My vision starts to get blurry and then I fall to the ground. Not being able to stand I lay there and start to breath, in out in out. I start to calm down, I get up and start walking. I look down and see my hand shaking as I grab onto the rope. I close my eyes and walk. When I opened my eyes I was back on the other side. In that moment I felt true relief. I felt fear that overwhelming emotion.

Fear is a very overwhelming emotion fear can make you do irrational things. Fear can make you have irrational reactions to situations. My personal experience with fear is one that involves me usually being anxious. When I am anxious I usually have a lot of thoughts racing through my head. Different scenarios that probably won’t happen but I can’t help but think they will.

Another experience I have with fear is this. I sit there parylazed with fear holding on to the tree for my life. I look out at the trees and the sky. It is a vast forest full of birds and other creatures. The sky is light blue and there are so many puffy white clouds. I can hear the ocean from a distance. I can hear the waves. I look down not realizing how high up we are. I finally turn around, I hear my mom yelling ,“go go”. I can't move, I start to zone out I hear my moms voice disappear slowly into the distance. I can finally think I can either zip line across or wait for someone to get me down. I wait, I look up then down then at my mom. She tries to get me to go, but I can't. I can't go knowing that I could possibly fall or worse. My thoughts are racing. I look at the line behind me waiting for me to go. I feel so bad for holding up these people. But I insist on still waiting for the person to get me down. Out of know where I see someone headed for me. Zipping through the trees. When he gets to me he tells me to get off the ledge. He switches my hooks and hooks me to the rope. He says he's got me. I push through my fear and let go. My hands are shaking as I step off the ledge. Then he starts to let the rope go and get me down. My eyes are closed the whole way down. When I feel the ground I opened my eyes. I feel so happy. I am so relieved to be on the ground touching the grass and being on a solid surface.

Fear is a very powerful emotion. In my personal experience fear has come up when I am anxious or nervous. Fear can impact your entire day, it makes you worry and overthink situations when there is no need to overthink. But there are coping skills to help you with it. One coping skill would be to breath in and out and to calm your mind down. You can use mindfulness to slow your mind and body down. It slows your body down by making you take a step back from the situation and breathe. This helps you slow your thoughts down and to be able to think clearly making your mindset turn into a more positive one. This helps you realize that this overwhelming emotion your feeling is just in your head and that it is just an emotion. An emotion that everyone experiences and has. Most people don’t realize this but thi powerful emotion is just an emotion and it is just in your head. When you realize this you can start to calm down reassure yourself that your okay, It is essential for others to turn negativity into positivity because it is important to maintain a happy life.

Advanced Essay #1: Emotions Aren't for Men

Introduction:

My goals for this essay was to discuss how we as a society expect men to be strong all the time. My goal was also to discuss how that’s a toxic thing to expect from men. I’m proud of how I was able to write about a hard time in my life. One way I want to improve my writing for the next paper is to reflect better because I feel like some of my reflection is weak.

When I was seven years old I learned that perfect families don’t exist. I always thought that my mother and father would be married forever and that we could live happily ever after. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

My mother and father had issues that a seven-year-old couldn’t “understand”, though I did understand that they weren’t happy. They would argue and yell at each other and I overheard all of it while I hid in a tent I kept in my room. That tent was my safe place where I got away from all of this. Before I knew it, my parents were divorced. My parents tried to sugarcoat things, but I could understand everything perfectly. Then I was given a schedule that consisted of me spending half the week with my mother and the other half with my father.

You would think that after the divorce my parents would be fine but they weren’t. My mom started working long hours to cope. My dad would try to smile through the pain and before I knew it my stepmom appeared in my life. I could tell that at first, my father was using my stepmom as a rebound because I could still see the lack of happiness in his face, but over time he fell in love with her. I wasn’t very fond of my stepmom but I dealt with her for my father’s sake.

My mother and father’s divorce left a dent in me. It changed my thought process and how I loved people. Seeing my mother and father fall out of love made me keep people at a distance. I didn’t want to get too close to people because I feared going through a “divorce”. This toxic way of seeing love didn’t last long because the summer of sophomore year my father and stepmom divorced and I was able to evaluate things.

It was a warm summer night. I was laying in my bed with my pjs on watching “Henry Danger” on Nickelodeon. My air conditioner hummed along with the actors talking on my tv. That was a normal summer night for me until my dad came home from work. I heard a loud noise which was the alarm system going off. My dad’s footsteps were heavy as if he were mad. He hurried up the steps and swung my door open and sat in my computer chair. My dad’s usual joyful smile was nowhere to be found and then he started speaking, “Shawnie me and Fiona are getting a divorce.” I wasn’t surprised for problems were lingering in their relationship for a while. I asked my dad how he was doing and he replied, “ This is nothing.” It was my dad’s second divorce and I could tell in actuality that he wasn’t fine. He was just trying to hold up a front. My dad then got up from the computer chair, kissed my forehead, and continued with his night.

I sat in my bed wondering what would come next. I wasn’t mad because I knew the divorce was the best decision for their strained relationship. I was more or so worried about how my little brother would take it since he was young. I feared that my little brother would grow up and handle his emotions the way I did. I sat in my bed for the rest of the night with my thoughts racing through my brain resulting in me getting no sleep. Then before I knew it, they were divorced.

After the day I found out of the divorce, I had many sleepless nights. I was so afraid of divorce and the fact that I was experiencing another one frightened me, like a monster under the bed. Yet, I came to terms and realized that in life there are two types of relationships. Toxic relationships and stable ones. Both of the relationships my dad were in started off as stable and then turned toxic. It was not one person’s fault, but both in actuality. By me being old enough to understand that I was contempt with things. My father, on the other hand, was not.

Just like the first divorce, my dad tried to hide his emotions. Typically men try to hide their emotions because of what society expects of them. Society expects men to be strong and always be fine. Men are usually taught that showing emotions are weak. When in reality, not showing emotions is weak because you’re not strong enough to confront how you feel. I remember when my little brother would cry and my dad would say, “Son crying is for girls.” That’s the same toxic thing that my grandfather would say to my dad which my dad was now passing on to my brother.

My dad was like a cup overflowing with water. The water, in this case, were his emotions, yet he refused to confront them. Sadly, my dad was never able to come to terms with how he felt because he died not long after him and my stepmom divorced due to a heart attack.

In a crazy way, I feel like if my dad were able to come to term with things, I feel like he could’ve lived a longer life. He had so much pent-up aggression and sorrow that it took a strain on him. The fact that we as a society expect men to be these strong beings is in a way asking for too much, for they are people just like us who need to confront their emotions or else their emotions will comfort them.

If I could go back I would try to be there for my dad more and help take on the burden of his emotions, but since my dad was brought up in a society where men are frowned upon if they show emotions my dad stayed a closed book. We need to normalize men showing their emotions because emotions are an essential part of life that everyone should be able to use to express themselves.

Overcoming Fear

Introduction:

My goal for this essay was to tell an interesting story using the two memories that I had to write. I am proud of my scenes of memory. I feel like they are very descriptive and they tell an interesting story. One way I would like to improve my writing for my next paper is making my story flow together better.

Advance Essay:

The theme of my scenes is me having mixed emotions about the activities I was about to do. My aunt, brother, and I were on a plane to Orlando, Florida for a little summer vacation. It was the middle of June. The sun was out followed by a million little rain drops. My brother, my aunt, and I just stepped off the shuttle bus to Volcano Bay. The waterpark was temporarily closed due to the rain and lightning. So soon as the park opened back up we went to the first ride we could find. Surprisingly there was no line. We began walking up about 250+ steps and by the time we got up there we were tired but also filled with excitement. We finally got to the top and I saw the sign and realized that this was the tallest ride in the entire waterpark. The ride consisted of twin tubes across from each other at a 70 degree angle. I thought about going back down but that was too many steps to walk up for no reason. So I stepped in the blue tube and my brother stepped in the green tube. The staff worker told me to cross my arms and legs and then look straight ahead. Before I followed her instructions, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Out of nowhere I heard a loud metal sound. My eyes popped open instantly and my brother was nowhere to be found. In my head I was thinking where did he go and I got a little more worried. My heart was beating out of my chest and my eyes were looking all around the tiny tube. Then finally I looked down and realized what had happened. I tried to prepare myself but it was to late. A trap door opened from under me and I shot through the tube at about 30 miles per hour. There was water splashing in my face, water going my nose, and water going in my eyes. In this scene I was excited to get on the water ride but then when I saw how it went I got a little worried.

In the second scene I was also excited because bungee jumping looked fun. I was worried because once I got to the top of the platform it looked way higher than I thought. But I decided to get over it by jumping off the platform. My friends and I were walking through the Poconos until we saw a tree that was not like any of the other ones we’ve passed so we stopped and walked over to the tree to see what was going on. When we got there we were greeted by this lady wearing a blue “STAFF” t-shirt. So we asked “What is this?” as we pointed to the tree. The lady replied “It’s for bungee jumping.” My friends and I all looked at each other and said “What y’all tryna do?” One responded with “Let’s do it!” and the rest of us agreed. So that’s exactly what we did.The lady attached the harness to all of us and we all began to start climbing until we heard someone whisper “I can’t do this.” We tried to convince her to keep going but it didn’t work. So we went without her. We finally made it to the top of the platform and now came the decision of who was going to jump first. To decide who was going to go first, we decided to play rock, paper, scissors. Thankfully I didn’t have to go first but after seeing him go first I volunteered to go second. I eased slowly to the edge, looked down, and then I leapt into the air as if I was doing a cannonball into a pool. About 5 seconds later I was dangling from the bungee cord barely above the ground. In my head I thought to myself that it wasn’t so bad I was actually glad that I did it.

One reason why I chose those memories is because I overcame one of my fears. I used to have a fear of heights and I felt I could conquer it by doing those activities. Since I stepped out of my comfort zone to do those activities I realized that I actually had fun and now I like to do things like riding roller coasters. Another reason I chose those memories is because both of those memories occurred outside of Philadelphia. The water slide scene occurred in Orlando, Florida, while the bungee jumping scene occurred in the Poconos.

Stressed Out Drop Out

Intro: The theme of my essay is about dropping out and stress from school. I wanted to write about something that other students could relate to something on a personal level and have it be somewhat entertaining. I’m proud of doing more than the minimum word count and having it not be a formal essay that people wouldn’t want to read. I made this entire essay off of procrastination and now it’s something that connects to the real world. For the next essay, I think I would have the paragraphs be shorter and not a sight for sore eyes. I want something that’s pleasant and easy to read.

September 12. Another ordinary day for me. I was sitting on the MFL, wondering what the day would be like. The train is already crowded, loud, and musty. I didn’t even know who was around me because people kept coming on and off the train. My day couldn’t have started any worse. For a few minutes, I continued to think that, until the english class writing assignment popped in my head. Ugh! Another writing piece. Of course, I don’t know what to write about and would wait until the last minute to do it. Should I write about the assignment itself or my surroundings? This year I wanted to be a changed student, doing my work on time and participate in class. But, it just never happened. Becoming a changed person takes time and can’t be done overnight, that’s one thing I failed to realize. On the first day of school, I thought I was gonna do my work, but my laziness kicked in. “Doors are closing.” The train operator said. I have about 30 more minutes before I get to City Hall and wouldn’t have a chance to write this paper, so what should I write about. When it comes to writing about myself I never know what to do. I think I know myself, but when it comes down to it, I don’t. To others, it probably won’t make sense, but to me it does. You should be able to think about yourself. When someone says to know your limits, you should but limits change every day. Now that a few minutes have passed and the train isn’t as noisy I can finally concentrate. My scene will be about my thoughts!

And that was how I started off my day. Writing a paper in less than 25 minutes trying to make it seem like I put effort into it, but I’ve already gotten to the point in my life where I no longer care about school. I’m ready to drop out of school and become an illegal exotic dancer and become famous or something. I think some people my age are at that stage too. No longer caring about school or the future, just living in the moment for the moment. Of course, I’m still going to continue to do my work because I do want to go to college and get my degree and have a career. Even if I was to stop doing my work, it would show on my report card.

During the last quarter of my freshman year, I had completely given up. Teachers kept assigning work until the last minute and I wasn’t willing to do it. In English class, we had to write an essay that used ethos, pathos, and logos. I did have a few ideas in mind when I started, but none of them were good enough to get a B on so, my English teacher at the time helped me come up with better ideas. The argument that I stuck with was “artists of the hip hop and r&b genre deserves as much respect as artists from others.” At the time, it sounded like a great idea but it wasn’t. I ended up bs-ing the whole thing because there wasn’t enough research and energy put into it. It also reflected on my report card. A grade too embarrassing to mention in an essay that no one is going to read. My mom and advisor were disappointed. I could tell by the tones of their voices and by their facial expressions. Moral of the story: bs anything you want as long as you’re able to face the consequences, unlike me.

Even while writing this essay I was ready to give up and write about anything. It’s something that we do in life, give up and forget or finesse.

High school is supposed to be the best and hardest part of our academic careers but we tend to focus on the difficult parts. It’s not fair to us that we’re forced to go to school and have people say “you’re here to learn not to have fun.” It’s not like we have a choice in the matter. We should have an option. If it was up to me, I would probably show up to school ⅘ days and have a job. It would be nice to say let’s just not go to school today and have fun.

Teachers like to say, I don’t like grading your homework, but continue to give us a lot of work. Here at SLA, we have 5 class periods and most of the teachers give us homework every day and it’s not even something we could do in 10 minutes. The stress and workload can cause students to drop out or become depressed depending on what’s going on in their life. Having this mentality can be a phase, not only for teens but for all students.

What Might Not Be Real, Might Be Real

My goal for this essay was to make it the best I could. I had to overcome my fears about this story and share it. My other goal is to share it with the class to see how people feel about it. I’m proud that I really worked on it out of school and that shows how much this means to me. I wanted to tell this story to put out there , that things might be real even if you don’t see it. One thing that can help me improve on my writing is to ask for help and ask for people to read it as well, because if people read it, they can give me feedback.

When I was in 7 grade I would always watch movies and shows about ghosts but I knew that it was fake or that it was made up like cartoons. I would make jokes about it over and over. My dad would tell me that there was a ghost in our house so that I should stop playing. So because I was a kid I didn’t believe him. I kept playing around about the ghost until the day I heard my sister telling my dad that there was something in the basement that pulled her hair. I started to overthink this way too much and tried to find a way on how can this can be real. So I said to myself, they might be playing because this just can’t be real, but something hit me and said to myself they think I’m sleeping in the backroom so that must not know. I also heard my mom talking to both of them about it, something that my mother does not play around is about dead people so that made me believe them even more. All the events are happening in the basement from what I heard, and that’s where I play video games and play down there for hours so why haven’t I noticed anything, I told myself. I would hear movements upstairs but I would not mind it because it was someone upstairs moving. Until the basement door open and close behind me at least 4 times, but I didn’t give it any mind. I turn around on the 4th time and no one was there to open the door and close it, I went upstairs to check if any of my family was downstairs trying to play around with me. When I checked upstairs I asked everyone if they were downstairs and they all said ‘’No.’’ A week has passed and I heard my mom telling my dad that ‘’something closed the door on her and she said it was like someone breathing on her face. She also said that no one was in the house but her.’’ I had a gaming setup in the basement so I would be the one that would be downstairs the most, and that means I would have a higher risk of being hurt from this thing. I wanted to move my gaming setup so fast but my dad said ‘’that there is nowhere to put it so it does not have a setup or stay downstairs.’’ I would feel like someone is breathing behind my back but I would try not to think about too much because I didn’t want to go crazy because of something that is not real. I would try my best every day to not look back because it would make me go crazy and overthink it. I didn’t think of it that much because it didn’t harm my family or me yet so I would try to overcome it and forget about it.

I got some feedback saying that I would have to learn to change it up and not talk about the same thing over and over because you told us to talk about something else. I also got told that my writing was good but I will give to learn to put bigger words to make seem like a pro. I will have to learn to remember that it’s a story so it can sound like I’m writing at the period. I also got asked to learn to re-read it learn from my mistakes so that I can look at what I might have missed and that needs to be added so that the story can make sense, or that it would look way better. Something that I noticed is that my group used the same words and that makes it more notable and tells me what they want us to know about their work. Ethan also told me that I would have to put hints in there to give the readers an idea If the theme and what the story is trying to tell the readers.

What I’m trying to point out is that everyone has a problem in their house and if you can do anything you can do to stop it or to get away from it, you should, because it can get even worse for you and the people around you. How we make sense of things that we don’t know about. This can happen to people all over the world and people would not care or pay good action to it until it happens and people should try to learn about this because if you move and something is there, you might have a problem. Movies and shows are fake but they get it from real life and make it into entertainment and that is not good because this might be happening to people.

Advanced Essay #1 A New Home

Introduction: This essay explores the difference between a home and a house. I told the story of my family coming to the United States to find a new home, after fleeing a war-torn country. I used both scenes of memory and artwork description. I am proud of the amount of description and I hope to carry that for my future pieces of work.

Essay:

I grew up in a home which was an escape from the bustling and rustling of Philadelphia. A home that always smelled of turmeric and cardamom. A place where we ate Manoushe for breakfast and washed it down with Hibiscus tea. A place where we would make a Lamb Ouzi for a celebration. Anytime there was the Lebanese Festival we would throw on our kaftan and play the Darbuka with Joey Tayoun. On our walls, we had art from the Hurriyah movement, and the blues of the Meditteranean were painted. One of my favorite piece of art is a photograph of a young girl kicking a soccer ball. The soccer ball is very rugged and not pumped up with air. She is wearing clothing that is too big for her, and her curly hair is wrapped up with a ribbon in a ponytail. You can’t see her face, just her tiny eight-year-old frame. The wall behind her is filled with trash and graffiti in an unknown language. She’s a Palestinian refugee playing in a refugee camp. A tent had become her new house, while her home was covered in bullet holes and crackling bricks. The home had always been very important for our family. Home didn’t just mean the place that you lived for a certain amount of time, that was a house. The home was the place where you felt yourself, a place of constant comfortability. We found the sense of feeling home always came when we were together, especially for my father and his siblings. My father and his siblings grew up in Beirut Lebanon. My father loved growing up in Lebanon. It was his paradise. It was a place where you can visit the white peaks of Mount Lebanon, learn the deep history of Byblos, and visit the beaches of Tyre. A place rich in culture and diversity, where you can see a mother covered head to toe in a niqab and her daughter right next to her in shorts and a t-shirt. He loved being with all his uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents. He never thought he would leave. One problem with Lebanon was that it never had a stable democracy. In 1975 a civil war broke out. After six months of seeing parts of Beirut crumble, my family left in search of a new safe home. They eventually came to King of Prussia a suburb outside of Philadelphia. They thought that this was a temporary move and that they would be able to go back home, but the civil war didn’t end for another fifteen years and they had to adapt to having America as their home. Right after college, my dad moved straight into Philly into a house in Society Hill. The first day that he moved in, a neighbor of his introduced himself. As they began to start talking he realized that this neighbor was Egyptian who grew up in Lebanon. He found someone that went through the same things as he did. He realized that it was very similar to Beirut a loud city where people honked as much as they talked, a place where people would yell at you instead of talk, and a place which had so much city pride. With the many years that he has spent in Philly, he found a place where he belonged. A place that he didn’t feel like an outsider. This was his new home, but his true and original home was still Beirut. One day I was looking at Airbnb, my dad came up to my room and asked to look for Airbnb in Beirut. I did a quick search and hundreds of apartments and homes came up. I clicked on one that had pictures of the sea which happened to be in a neighborhood called Mar Mikhael. We looked through the pictures and then I read the description for him. “This apartment is a 1950’s inspired apartment on a small street called Armenia, located in the beautiful Mar Mikhael neighborhood. Do you know where this is?” I asked. “ Our home was a block away from that street,” he replied with a smile. A moment passed and the smile stayed on his face, he was reminiscing on the memories from his life on Mar Mikhael. Just looking through the photos he made connections with every little thing. “ Under that apartment used to be the best Manoushe place.” “And we use to race our bikes over that street.” With just a few pictures he was able to give me a tour of his childhood home. He was able to answer any questions I had about his life before the United States. But most importantly, even if it was just for those few seconds he was able to feel at home again.

Wins and Losses

Introduction: My goal for this essay was to show how baseball-related to life. More specifically how baseball has taught me how to deal with wins and losses in life. I have found that keeping the same mindset that I do when playing baseball, I don’t get stuck on failures and stay humble with successes. I am proud of the descriptive language that I used in this essay and how it helped tell my story with detail. Next essay I want to finish it earlier so I can review more and get more peer reviews.

Final Draft; Wins and Losses As I waited my turn I felt the tension rising. The game was getting more intense as the score between the two all start teams went back and forth. I stood behind the batter watching the pitcher throw strikes right past him hitting the catcher’s glove causing a loud smack. This is when I started to feel nervous, the pressure was on me as the batter struck out and the 2 runners advanced on base. As I took my last practice swing I could feel my coach put his hands on my shoulders as a sign of reassurance that I was prepared. I stepped out of the cage feeling both nervous and eager to hit the ball. I positioned myself parallel to home base and took a second to take everything in. At this moment I could hear my mom in the background; “Let’s go Jackson!” and my team starting a chant. Seconds later it was silence, a split second when it only felt like it was me and the pitcher. He threw his first pitch and it sped by me, “STRIKE!” was the only thing I could hear after that. I repositioned myself, watched carefully as he gripped the ball and then “STRIKE!” another one before I knew it. This is when I felt the pressure like never before, I took a step back and knew what I had to do to make sure we won the game. I returned to the plate and played what felt like a starring game with the pitcher. I was ready this time, two fastballs went by and I wasn’t letting the third. The pitcher lifted his leg to start his throw and I started moving my bat. In an instant, I felt my bat make contact and watched as I sent the ball flying over the left fielders head. “RUN RUN RUN” is all I heard my coach screaming as I rounded first base and headed towards second. As I ran I noticed my teammate running to home plate so kept on running towards third base. As I approached my third base coach gave me the signal to slide and I did headfirst into the bag. When I got the chance to stand up and wipe the dirt off of me I realized what happened, I hit a triple and got two RBI’s. I felt a great feeling of pride knowing that I helped my team take the lead.

That story is significant to me because of the feelings I remember after finishing that game. I felt happy and accomplished and celebrated with my teammates which made it even better. That win felt so good because of how many times my team and I were the ones that lost and after that game, we left the field with our heads high. Another story I have about baseball is when I was on the losing side, and to be able to win you have to learn to lose first.

It was a windy day with a light drizzle. I had been up to bat countless times before but this time the stakes were high. It was two outs in the last inning and we were down two runs. With my teammate on third, we had a chance of scoring and continuing the game if I hit. I took my last practice swing, took a deep breath and stepped to the plate. As the pitcher started to wind up I could feel the tension building. The first pitch he threw passed me before I eve started to swing my bat. I took a step back, adjusted my feet, and focused on the baseball and the baseball only. This time I had a great swing, I lifted my foot just on time and twisted my hips in order for the best possible hit. Once again the ball flew past me and my bat threw me off balance because of the amount of power I put into the swing. Now I knew I had to hit, my team was counting on me and the fate of the game was up to me. I walked back to home base with ambition and focus. I knew what was at stake and tried to block it all out as I watched the pitcher dig his spikes in the sand. My team started a chant as I tried my hardest to ignore everything around me. As the pitcher released the ball coming towards me I knew it was a good pitch, right down the middle. I squeezed the bat as hard as I could and swung it around me waiting to hear the crack of the ball hitting the bat, but it never did. All I heard was the smack of the baseball hitting the catchers glove and saw the opposing team rushing the field to shake hands and celebrate.

I chose to write about these two experiences because they have taught me a lot about how to deal with wins and losses in life. Although baseball is just a sport I think that the emotions and mindset when dealing with successes and failures relates to other aspects of life. I also feel that I have had a lot of first-hand experience that no one is perfect through playing baseball, I have seen the best player on the team make stupid errors and the last batter hit a triple.