Personal Narrative
During my fourth birthday party, I was run over by a car.
But the car was a Barbie jeep, driven by a five-year-old. Taylor, the girl who hit me, apologized vehemently. Her mother demanded to know why she hit me. Her response was simple- she didn’t see me over the hood of the car.
That event was a precursor to the rest of my childhood. My teachers would call me cute, my aunts would pinch my cheeks, and my older sister used my shoulders as an arm rest. Everyone saw me as a height instead of a person.
My parents, however, saw a capable person. In preparation for family hikes, I had to pack my own bag. While packing my bag would become bulky, so I would ask my dad to carry it for me. He refused, “Either adjust your pack or leave it at home. I’m not going to overloaded because you can’t carry your own …show more content…
It was sooner, rather than later, that I had to carry things myself to gain advance my place in the world.
After joining marching band my sophomore year, it seemed like everyone had a comment about how large my instrument, the synthesizer, was. While I only played the keyboard atop it, it was on a cart, that I had to push, containing the sound system for my instrument and speakers.
“That thing is bigger than you are,” teachers would remark in the hallway.
“If I can play it then, I should be able to carry it, and if I cannot carry it, then I should not play it,” I would amiably reply, and continue to push my instrument elsewhere.
During a practice, the band director told everyone to go outside. My section was running back and forth trying to carry out everyone’s equipment and arrive to the practice field on time. An older female teacher walked the door next to the band hallway and looked at me, “You look like you’re struggling. I’m sure that there is a big, strong boy in the band that could carry it for you,” she
But the car was a Barbie jeep, driven by a five-year-old. Taylor, the girl who hit me, apologized vehemently. Her mother demanded to know why she hit me. Her response was simple- she didn’t see me over the hood of the car.
That event was a precursor to the rest of my childhood. My teachers would call me cute, my aunts would pinch my cheeks, and my older sister used my shoulders as an arm rest. Everyone saw me as a height instead of a person.
My parents, however, saw a capable person. In preparation for family hikes, I had to pack my own bag. While packing my bag would become bulky, so I would ask my dad to carry it for me. He refused, “Either adjust your pack or leave it at home. I’m not going to overloaded because you can’t carry your own …show more content…
It was sooner, rather than later, that I had to carry things myself to gain advance my place in the world.
After joining marching band my sophomore year, it seemed like everyone had a comment about how large my instrument, the synthesizer, was. While I only played the keyboard atop it, it was on a cart, that I had to push, containing the sound system for my instrument and speakers.
“That thing is bigger than you are,” teachers would remark in the hallway.
“If I can play it then, I should be able to carry it, and if I cannot carry it, then I should not play it,” I would amiably reply, and continue to push my instrument elsewhere.
During a practice, the band director told everyone to go outside. My section was running back and forth trying to carry out everyone’s equipment and arrive to the practice field on time. An older female teacher walked the door next to the band hallway and looked at me, “You look like you’re struggling. I’m sure that there is a big, strong boy in the band that could carry it for you,” she