Personal Narrative: My Trip To Hampden Park Public School

When it comes to sports my family has many ties to Middletown High School South. In the Going as far back as the 1980’s when my Dad attended the same high school. He was a standout wrestler for the team and was given multiple scholarships to wrestle in college. My family name is everywhere within the trophy rooms and walls of Middletown South. I am the youngest of three children with two older sisters coming through high school before me. Both of my sisters were outstanding runners for Middletown South and are now running on collegiate levels. Then there is me following in my dad 's footsteps, trying to leave my mark in Middletown South 's wrestling history.

For most of my life lived in Wisconsin. I graduated from Mahone middle school and had mostly A's and B's from my class. Most of my classes were not honors and it never appeared to me that I would go far in life. So when I enter Glen and Fike High school, everything changed dramatically in my academic.

As a child, high school seemed like a place that was miles away. Everything about it- with the exception of the graffitied bathroom stalls-lit up my eyes with the dream that I would one day be walking down its halls as a student. Although high school felt so far away, Montville High School itself was no stranger to me. When I was younger, my mom tortured me by sending me to the Chinese program held there every Sunday. I also used the school’s athletic facilities from joining the recreation track program, which I stopped going to after two weeks from discovering my antipathy for physical activity. From all of this, I quickly became familiar with what others would think as the overwhelming layout of the school. For some reason, I had always felt

I am an immigrant. The word that Donald Trump hates. The set of people that receives many blames for crimes or mischief. But after all, thats me. I am like any other person who gets blamed, I am an immigrant.

In the middle of the winter of the 5th grade school year at the Kaneland Mcdole Elementary School, I decided to cover for my best friend so he wouldn't get in trouble from my teacher. It was very cold while I waited at the bus stop every morning trying to amuse myself by sliding down the icy driveways. Ethan S., Sergio, and Grant were my best friends in 5th grade. Sergio was Mexican and a little shorter than me. He also sat next to me in desks of 5 or 4. Grant was the best of friend anyone could have. He loved sports and sitting next to me on the bus. We got on the bus and on the way to school.

High school was a roller coaster ride for me, from the endless fun of parties to the minor breakdowns and panic attacks that would land myself in the hospital. The pressure and stress got to me and the fact that failing out of the school that I’ve been going to for twelve years with long life friends was coming to an end. Now that I look back at it though it might have been the best decision for my well-being because then I would of not been able to meet the people that I met at Chamblee Charter High School. You would think moving from a private to a public school would be a big cultural shock, you are very correct. Atlanta International School, which was the school I went for basically my whole life, was a very open minded, well rounded, and accepting establishment since the most of the students where from all over the world. Unlike Chamblee which was, as us teenagers call it, ghetto and ratchet, but that did not really bother me at all. It kind of made me feel like it was where I needed to be to grow as a person and helped me meet the people who I can call family to this day.

February sixth was the day of my last middle school game. We were playing our rivals , Ledford middle school. The first time we played them we only lost by two points.

In the middle of the winter of the 5th grade school year at the Kaneland Mcdole Elementary School, I made a decision to protect my best friend so he wouldn't get in trouble from my teacher. It was very cold while I waited at the bus stop every morning trying to amuse myself by sliding down the icy driveways. Ethan S., Sergio, and Grant were my best friends in 5th grade. Sergio was Mexican and a little shorter than me. He also sat next to me in desks of 5 or 4. Grant was the best of friend anyone could have. He loved sports and sitting next to me on the bus. We got on the bus and on the way to school.

I’ll never forget how I felt the first time I walked into Prairie Ridge High School. I was surrounded by approximately sixteen hundred other students and I knew exactly none of them. I had never been that alone before and when I walked through the cafeteria doors, I felt the first seed of doubt that maybe I should have stayed in Union, with my mom. At that moment, I wanted to turn around and run out of Prairie Ridge, hop in the car, and drive the four hundred miles back to my friends, my teammates, and the majority of my family. Instead, I took a deep breath and sat down.

realized what it actually meant, I erased it in embarrassment and did not fill in that portion of the paper. Anyways, from fifth through eighth grade is when I got more appreciative of nature. Belle Valley South had a courtyard in the middle of the building, and I loved going to it everyday to eat. It was always quiet, serene, and devoid of all the other students whom were terrified of something as simple as bees or ladybugs. I grew a little sad when it got to the colder months and we had to eat inside. That changed when I got to seventh grade. Belle Valley North and South were, to almost nobody’s knowledge, built on top of abandoned mine shafts. Over time, the weight of the schools took their toll, and the ground grew weaker where it stood. North actually had their entire cafeteria fall into the mine shaft, never to be seen again. For the first semester of 7th grade, I had to eat in my classrooms. When it came second semester, an entirely new school was built to join together kindergarten through 8th grade. That school stands today, with a graveyard right next to it. Strange to build a school with the playground having a nice view of a graveyard, but it was considerably better than what South came to be. While Belle Valley South still stands to this day, no one has bought the lot and it has become the home of many rodents and cockroaches.

This is a story about me named Ketoria Wilkins. I’m trying to become want I want to become but for now I’m going to work on my education work and dream. This story is based on a true story of my whole life. I will tell you more you read the book.

Sadly, it was the end of summer and it was the year I was going into 7th grade for junior high! I spent a long time trying to find the perfect school. The junior high all of my friends were going to was Desert Ridge, which was a huge school with many long hallways that never end.It was very close and convenient to our house. My family and I also found a school called GCA. GCA was smaller than my elementary school, probably only one fourth the size. It was not as convenient for us since we live in Mesa and GCA is located in Gilbert. I knew I needed my friends to go through junior high and high school but GCA had higher honors classes that were not at Desert Ridge. I knew that this tough decision was all up to me. It was as hard as picking needles out of a hay bale. So I made it easier on myself by choosing the main pros and cons for each school.

I am a child of immigrant parents, although we are not the wealthiest and they may have had struggles when moving to Canada, my life has been great so far with the efforts of my family. It all began when I was born in Ottawa, at the civic hospital on May 12 2001. My full name is Morgan Lee Khai Chau. My parents come from Vietnam, they immigrated to Canada around the 1900s because of all the violence going around in their home country, they also wanted a better life and future for themselves and their families. My family is made up of my parents, my older brother and my older sister. My first language was Cantonese because my parents spoke it, but since my brother and sister spoke english pretty well at the time,

Stumble. Survive. Create a new generation. The cycle of striving for perfection and purpose reveals itself to those who contribute to the heirs of the human condition, children, and I was one of them, quivering with a hand on my shoulder advising me on when to draw and how to breathe. As I cautiously signed my name to the organization which, unbeknownst to my seventh-grade self, would become my young legacy, my self-definition, I didn 't think about the many friends—rather, and pardon my cliché, family—that I would make. When tryouts for the school 's first year of having an archery team arrived, I, nervous and irresolute as ever, took from my coach for the first time the bow that would be my counselor and companion for years thereafter.

High school grows you into the person you are. I have great memories, good and bad, some learning experiences and some that I’ll take with me the rest of my life. My high school experience has influenced my development as a person inside and outside of the class by making me more independent, choosing friends wisely and teachers motivating me to attend college and accomplish goals I have set for myself.