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I was 18 years old when I first enrolled to Modesto Junior College with over- self confidence and energy. In the beginning of the semester , I attended the classes and took notes , however since high school I was able to pass my class with As and Bs without really working hard , I assumed college will be the same. After paying international tuition and 16 units , I decided that I will go to class when I felt like it. In the middle of the semester, I was barely getting low Cs in the class and failing most of my class. I had a really bad fixed mindset because I did not want to look like I am not smart or intelligent anymore…
During the fall semester of 2015, I felt like I was not progressing as well as I knew I could. I fell into the rhythm of waking up and going to class during the week, similar to the daily routines McDonald fell into. On the weekends, I fell into the habit of going to work and then going to sleep without being my natural, productive self. I spoke with a close friend of mine and told her how I was feeling and she gave me valuable advice. She told me to find out what I was passionate about, start narrow and work my way up to my larger goals. I then understood that I am one student in a school of over 10,000 people, but I…
At this point I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life after college and I didn’t even know what college I wanted to go to. I did not like the feeling of not knowing what I wanted to do as a career. It would eat at me, so I decided to just hide it away deep down until it would find its way out eventually with the right answer a year and a half later. My classes were consisting of required courses that I had no care for. Back when I was a sophomore, we were required to take chemistry in order to complete high school. My chemistry teacher was the worst. He did not care about my assignments enough to actually take his time and read through them and give me an accurate score on my assignments and tests. No matter how hard or little I tried, he would always give me a score of a D or C, Teachers like him are what cause the students to have this thought of, “No matter how hard I try, I will never be able to better myself, I am worthless in their eyes.”. That’s the message I received when I was handed a sixty percent for my semester grade in that class. That teacher didn’t care about me, he didn’t want to waste his precious time on me. Teachers like him are like the diseases in the education…
By living in a visual world, companies frequently run ads using photoshopped pictures. The image presented is near perfect in appearance, yet it is not always truthful. Despite the numerous cautions implied by doctors or inscribed on cigarette packets, smoking has been a fashionable trend throughout the years. Some advertisements influence individuals in becoming addicted to the nicotine inside the health hazard wrapped within paper. Other advertisements tend to sway the viewer into pondering the general concern of the problem at hand. Photographer Mike Stubbs’s photo of Terrie Hall focuses on his subject’s physical appearance not altered in photoshop, instead, altered by surgery. By presenting Terrie Hall, a former smoker, in this advertisement, the harsh and shocking truth about smoking is exposed.…
High school is tough. To a sixteen year old, your entire existence depends on your social status and what clique you roll with. And like in every high school movie ever made, bullies prey on kids who they feel are different than them. It’s hard to pop your head out of that bubble to see what is actually happening around you.…
I felt this sense of fear, but I knew it was just nervousness. It caused my whole body to tremble. I creeped onto the field and pass by the fifty girls and all of the coaches. Just me walking by everyone gave me this ginormous knot in my stomach, it made me feel like I was going to pass out right on the field. I was breathing heavy, like I just ran a marathon. I was beyond nervous just to be the new girl on the field. I was scared of what the girls thought of me, and how the coaches thought I would play and adapt to the sport. I had never even picked up a lacrosse stick and the girls were passing, catching and shooting on goal: how does a new player get to there if they were two week late into the season? I was terrified I would never get to the level of the rest of the team.…
I remember the first time I created art. I was seven years old and I was already in the midst of learning about myself. The pencil crayons felt like paint brushes as I let my inner artist run wild. I felt like Matisse himself even though I had no idea who that was at the time. I drew a rose and an off-coloured clownfish that looked more like Tiger. Although the things I drew had no significance, the idea of creating something captivated me ever since. I practiced baking to settle my need for creation and ended up falling in love with the hobby; baking is what fulfilled my need for creation and decoration. I still satisfy my need for art by occasionally visiting the Art Gallery of Ontario or drawing silly sketches the on scrap pieces of paper…
It was a warm February day in the year of 2007. I had invited my best friend Fisher to ride the bus home with me so we could ride our brand new rip-sticks together. Our whole day was dedicated to make memories by doing what we usually do, do stupid things. Our first two hours together consisted of first person shooter games, but we soon grew too bored and decided to spend the rest of our time riding our rip-sticks. We rode through the neighborhood looking for basic slopes to get the basics down before we put our lives on the line by riding down the steep ones. As we got more comfortable riding, we began to scout my neighborhood for the biggest hills we could find. I wasn’t all for the idea because I had just started baseball season the week before, so I denied every request that Fisher asked to ride down the hill. Hill after hill, Fisher began to get tired of me backing out every time.…
On a December evening cold enough to stimulate a gentle snowfall, I approached an electric blue vehicle residing in my driveway, mentally prepared to depart for Decorah on a school night. Seated in the driver’s seat was my enthusiastic Spanish teacher, beaming wildly as nightfall canvassed the horizon. As I opened the car door, a gust of heat emerged from the vehicle’s interior, luring me inside. Animated chatter spoken immaculate Vietnamese drowned out not only the music droning from the radio, but my Spanish teacher’s benevolent greeting. Nevertheless, I took my seat in the passenger’s seat beside her, and we were subsequently on our way.…
Transferring to me is not just about getting my diploma, it is to teach myself discipline. Growing up in an immigrant family, you are held to a high standard within any regard. My parents always have tried to give me the best and expect for me to give the very best in anything I do. Coming from a family where no one graduated college was a tough thing for me being the oldest child. It lead to lost discipline and motivation in high school because I had no guidance for my future in education. This being said, I have matured since and that lack of motivation is now at an all time high. I want to make my family proud, I want to be a good role model for my younger brothers, but most importantly I want to show myself that I can achieve anything no matter the circumstances. With my high hopes come my objectives of improving my self confidence and faith. Many times in life I have cut my self…
Have you ever wondered what the purpose of your life is? I have found myself asking this question several times, and during these contemplations, I have considered many career paths. Yet, it was only after finding medicine that I found complete fulfilment.…
I was born into a blend of two cultures. I was raised in a Mexican-American household, my family of Mexican descent and the society around me American. I was living on American territory with Mexican customs and American expectations. My family wanted me to be better than they ever had the opportunity to be. My home became my safe place; My community was my shield.…
Ever since elementary school I have been very dedicated to my school work and as I grew up I always had my mind set on college. My family has never really been the role model type which always made me push myself even harder to make a better name for myself and not end up how most of my family has. I'm not going to lie, I have let a few things slip because I piled a lot on myself which is no excuse. Whether or not my grades have always been perfect or if I have the highest GPA or class rank I have always cared about school and plan to strive in college. Out of all of my years in high school I would say that my sophomore year had the most impact on me. I have always moved around but I usually stayed in the same area. The summer before my sophomore year I moved from Florida to North Carolina with my mom and my little brother. Getting away from all the people I…
At the end of July, I considered giving up on writing again. With all the hours I poured into my last essay, it felt like a slap in the face that they didn’t even send a “thank you for trying” letter. I spent the announcement day sitting on my in-law’s porch sipping coffee with Baileys and stewing over yet another essay contest loss. Lacking in ideas of where I went wrong, I tried imitating old photos of authors again for inspiration. Leaning on the arm of the wicker chair with my chin resting on curled fingers; I held my pen like a cigarette, hoping to channel the inventiveness of Orwell or Fleming.…