Personal Narrative: Ramapo Mountain

Ramapo Mountain would have been one of the first racially integrated communities in the United States. Sadly, in 1972 the project was rejected. Although the Civil Rights Act had been passed eight years prior, the country as a whole was not yet ready for radical change. My grandfather, the man behind Ramapo Mountain, has always told me that true transformation takes years; and that truism has borne itself out in my high school career. Ninth grade was a particularly difficult year for me, both academically and personally. Troubles within my family came to affect my life at school, which, in turn, only further exasperated my difficulties at home. But during this time my grandfather emerged as a source of both stability and personal wisdom.

I had struggled with stoichiometry and understanding the periodic table in tenth grade. As I expected, I received a thirty percent on the first quiz, and decided to reach out to the teacher, Ms. Barnett, asking for a retake. “Each student is allowed one per trimester,” she explained, and I was, without doubt, using mine on this quiz. To prepare for the retake, I reread my notes, completed practice problems, and scored in the high eighties.

By the end of the semester I had become far more confident with the material, and I had not received another thirty percent on a quiz. One day after class, Ms. Barnett asked if I wanted to stay after school once a week to help her organize the lab. I was excited that she had noticed how I had disciplined myself as a student in her class, and happily agreed to do so.

As the year progressed, I developed an academic and personal bond with her; similar to the bond I had to my grandfather. Her influence led me to push myself to reach towards my full potential. Just as I didn’t give up in chemistry, my parents are growing as people, my grandfather is pursuing his vision; I fit into this chemical equation because I am simultaneously developing intellectually and as a