Personal Narrative-Lack Of Motivation In Elementary School

“Hey, can you help me out with this calculus homework? You explain it so much better,” my mom asked in one night when I was at home for winter break. At age 45, she had enrolled in a state college while working a full-time time, inspired by the fact that I was first in her family to even attend a university. The reality is that if it were not for my parents’ sacrifices in this country, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Even in the earliest stages, my Nicaraguan immigrant parents devoted their efforts entirely towards my education. After being bullied in elementary school for being “brown,” and “poor,” my parents decided that enough was enough and it was time to move. With my father being a cook, and my mother working at the local drycleaners, abandoning their small apartment and moving towards a bigger, more “sophisticated” town was exceedingly difficult. Neither of them had the proper English-speaking skills or formal education, but they both possessed the drive and desire for their daughter have access to a good school with less racism and more attentive teachers.
Unfortunately, we quickly discovered that every rung of the socioeconomic ladder has its own chips of racism. Even in a brand-new school in an “upper-middle class” town, I would receive comments such as “I’ve seen your
Missing school was not an option. I could find solace in the fact that I was doing well in my classes. Beyond the bullying, studying was enjoyable. Helping my fellow classmates understand math or science welcomed a comfort that I’ve never had before. Soon I realized that my childhood dream of becoming a dentist was too small a conquest. Why not study the whole body? Soon, I began high school with a modest but very helpful premedical academy, which satisfied my curiosity for medical