Ever since I was a little kid living in Brooklyn New York I knew my heritage was important to me. From celebrating every time the Honduran National team scored to checking off that Hispanic/latino box on every application I filled out I felt a spark of pride inside of me. My parents did a tremendous job showing me my family background and taking me to Honduras every summer to visit my relatives and learn even more about my culture. I felt that being latino meant that I had to have initiative and
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On a beautiful day in 2013 my horse had a horrible accident. The horses were in the middle pasture grazing when I left for school. It happened to be that this day my mom went to work at the NRCS that August day‚ and parts were needed on the ranch‚ therefore my dad left for Pierre a little bit later that morning. When I walked out of school‚ and sat in the pickup‚ my mom and I went to the Cenex‚ and exclaimed to me that my dad is coming with my horse‚ he is cut. We took him to the vet out in rapid
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crowd of people watching me. My anxiety was getting worse and worse every minute that went by. Why was I so scared? I’ve done this before. As the person before me was finishing up my teacher asked me if I was ready‚ in my head I was thinking no but I told her yes. At that moment I repeated to myself I can’t do this over and over again‚ I was right. Gymnastics has been one of my passions for many years‚ 6 to be exact. I started when I was about 5‚ I was inspired by my cousin who has done it sense
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grade my brother and I lived with our mom. She wanted to go into the military so she sent us to our dad in the summer‚ and when she got back from boot camp we were supposed to come back. On the fourth of July we were with our dad‚ after that we started to live with him. Years passed‚ and in my fourth grade yeah came. We ended up going to my mom’s house for the summer. My mom had kept us for about 5 months and my dad ended up coming to get us from her. In the 5th grade I went back to live with my mom
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Washington 1983 was the year my dad came to America. He was 17 years old and had little money with him when he came. My dad came to have a fresh start at life. They were a total family of seven and lived in a small house in India. My dad is the smallest in his family there are four older than him‚ two sisters and two brothers. They live in a small village called Talwan. It’s were many poor people live. We have farmland were my grandpa would grow crops and sell them to make money‚ but the money that
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photograph is slightly sun-bleached‚ the memory stands clear and vibrant in my mind. My Abuelitos and I are sitting in a row on the shore. Our chairs are bright cherry red. I’m wearing my favorite aquamarine Little Mermaid two-piece‚ the one with the sparkly flounder on the side. My strong‚ hardworking Abuelo sports his usual slicked back hairstyle and striped collared shirt that always seemed to complement his olive toned skin. My Abuelita garbs a crisp linen shirt
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My leadership potential is somewhat paradoxical. Although I am very driven and passionate about my work‚ I make sure that I never boast about my accomplishments. From basketball‚ I heard the phrase‚ "Hungry and Humble." I would say that this is very accurate to my leadership capabilities. As a leader‚ I am very "hungry" to accomplish our task at hand. My drive and passion fuels me to finish the job. If I were to receive any recognition for my work‚ my first reaction is always denial. I respectfully
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A chilly breeze struck my face as I lower the window of the car‚ a 2010 Dodge‚ rushing passed buildings while leaves begin to fall off the trees. Mom and I were passing the local cemetery on our way to the store and I think of him. Without a warning‚ tears slowly make their way down the sides of my face and it takes me back to the Winter of 2010 when I knew‚ knew that he would be taking his very last breath. My Grandpa‚ beloved and cherished‚ has just passed. Balling her eyes out‚ Mom falls to the
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“Hey guys I got next game” I said as I placed my water bottle down on the wet grass. I went aside to tie my shoe. All of a sudden the trash talk began to start. “Oh man it’s this kid again. He is not playing on my team he is so garbage” one of them said to me as if I wasn’t even there.They usually say things much worse. So you could say I adapted to the way they talked. I did not let this get under my skin. Because‚ I kept telling myself You got better you are the best. I kept telling myself this
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though I was sure I was A-OK sadly‚ I was wrong. My loss begins in my class. It was in math‚ (math happens to be the subject I have always been terrible at)‚ and I was casually doing my work. When I finished‚ I decided to check my grades. I pulled my chromebook out from my backpack and turned it on. I was logging in and expected to see A’s and B’s like always. But‚ when I looked‚ I was very surprised to see my grade in math had dropped to a low C. I knew my mother would not particularly enjoy seeing this
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