“Something deep in my character allows me to take the hits and get on with trying to win.” If it wasn’t for the beautiful game‚ I would’ve never possessed this character that allows me to be so determined and willing to fight. I would have never found my passion to compete or for being a goalkeeper. Through all the broken bones I had over the years from jumping and diving I never once complained‚ I always aimed to finish. ‘’No one was going to wear my gloves!’’ I thought. My injury’s started
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In order to get an understanding of what my strengths are‚ I interviewed three different individuals. In my opinion‚ the views of these different individuals would give a reflection of what really would be my strengths. In order to get their feedback to follow up questions‚ I conducted my interviews by phone. Here are the names and the relationships of the persons I contacted in my interviews. Firstly‚ Andrew Nepal‚ a co-worker. Andrew and I were also classmates at Westfield one year ago. Secondly
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do with your culture as well. My cultural identity is a unique one based on the influences of technology‚ food‚ tradition. Which is some of the things that is used within my Cultural Identity. In my cultural identity my social life is a big part of that. Technology is the biggest connection to my cultural identity. I use social media as a form of identification to describe my culture and tradition. Technology such as laptops and cell phones can be a big a part of my cultural identity. Social media
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When I was in elementary school‚ my parents and teachers continuously told me I was brilliant‚ gifted‚ and naturally smart. I was given opportunities that other kids didn’t have. In fourth grade I was nominated to take the Explore test‚ which is an above grade level test similar to the ACT. My scores on this test confirmed that I was intelligent and needed to be challenged. Other students and teachers found me likable and I was able to make everyone laugh with my sense of humor. Elementary school
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there in the hard seat of my desk and waited patiently. The scent of bleach was overwhelming in the room‚ but I knew by the second week it would be covered up by the smell of musty children and chalk dust. I could not wait for my new teacher to stroll up to me‚ eyes full of amazement‚ and give me my paper. I had worked hard on it for nearly a month during the summer prior to this new school year. My writing skills were top-notch‚ of course. Looking around the room at my new classmates‚ it was easy
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box and stored away. My teacher read interesting books to my class. She would take two weeks to read a 500 page book. I enjoyed cuddling up next to watch each expression she expressed. Every couple of months my teacher set up blanket forts and let us read independently all day long. We’d read beside the light of a lamp and bring our own pillows to lay on. This was my favorite time of the year. From there‚ she let us write stories and read them aloud. My teacher helped develop my love for writing.
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I had mentioned to my Supervisor how much he makes‚ and that his wife must make a lot‚ because the Supervisor had mentioned various times that his wife worked at a school. I know that school jobs are part of the government‚ so they pay well. Also‚ my sister was a school teacher‚ and she made good money. I mentioned that to him to show him that he makes a lot with two incomes (his and his wife’s together). I just make about $10‚000 net pay a year. He’s already doing well‚ especially with two
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butterflies in my stomach. Little did I know then my life was about to take a turn‚ right across the corner of that new specialty? Curiosity has always driven me towards new experiences; so naturally‚ I walked into class and sat in the front row. As we started discovering the normal anatomy of the skin‚ how to precisely describe skin lesions‚ I found myself being drawn into Dermatology day after day. It was definitely a new filed I was ready‚ and very thrilled to explore. I discovered my passion for
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everything‚” she scoffed. If the crazy bitch only knew the things I did for my father. My father was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis 21 years ago and had been getting worse ever since. His body was attacking itself‚ and all we could do is sit there and let it happen. When grandma came‚ she always showed up with bags of weird gluten free‚ dairy free‚ soy free‚ flavor free foods. She was convinced that everything we ate just made my fathers symptoms worse. Now‚ I do agree McDonald’s probably made everything
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plain‚ I could feel my bare ankles stinging from the stirrup rubbing against them. We had been riding for a solid three hours in the unbearable heat. Suddenly I felt my body falling backwards‚ my horse was running. I grasped onto the horn for dear life. Thinking back‚ they did not teach me much about how to ride a horse before I jumped on‚ so I had absolutely no idea what to do. “Should I jump off?” It seemed like a valid option because my horse was heading right towards my mom’s. I was then in
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