Let´s start by the beginning. I am Armando Santos. I am 43 year-old and I have grown up in Spain; and I have spent my last 6 years out of Spain‚ relocated first to Belgium and then to the United States 2 years ago. I do not know where I will go next. Through these countries and moves I will explain you my past‚ present‚ and future. My past is Spain. Spain is the country where I was born and I grew up. It is where my family and most of my friends live. I spent fourteen years in a catholic school
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Many people do not realize how a child growing up in an abusive or neglected household affects their future. People go through hard times hiding it from the world; secretly hoping someone finds out about their story and helps them. There are many children throughout the world that do not know what it is like growing up with a normal parental figure. They go everyday living the life they live hoping to get out of it. Children that are abused or neglected go day after day worrying about when they will
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Growing up in a third world country has impacted me as an individual. Living through the pain of having nothing has fueled me to appreciate every opportunity and to take advantage of it. None more important than the opportunity to learn. My early years in school were struggles filled with fear‚ inconsistency‚ and no growth. There were months where my teacher showed up for two days only. There was no such thing as a substitute teacher‚ breakfast‚ lunch‚ computers‚ and all the other resources that
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neighborhood‚ Jackson Heights conjures up visions of an up and coming neighborhood in Queens known as a true melting pot of different cultures. My family is no exception. Being from a first-generation immigrant family‚ I have witnessed poverty firsthand as nine of my family members‚ including myself tried to live comfortably with just as much room as sardines in a pack. It all started with a family getaway‚ I thought I had known what living in poverty feels like growing up in Jackson Heights. However
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There were some sad days for me when I was growing up. Because I was born with a handicap that’s what they called it in my day. I was born with a club foot‚ which meant the bone in my right leg was broken during the time my mother carried me. And the doctors had to do surgery on me when I was 10 months old. I was told that the doctors had to fix the broken bone in my right leg. I still have the scar. As I begin to walk‚ I walked on my toes. I walked this way until the second surgery when I was about
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Growing up‚ I’ve had a hard time being socially active. I was the shy girl that everyone knew. Although being shy was my only way of being safe from others. I trusted only the people in my family. The reason for my shyness’ is: I didn’t trust people to not make fun of me‚ my birth father and his family didn’t like me‚ but I did trust my stepfather. My stepfather‚ has been my father since I was 3 years old‚ I call him dad and my birthfather I don’t call him anything since he’s never allowed to see
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people begin searching. Here come the challenges that we must undertake in order to gain a sense of self. The sacrifices of identity in order to join into a group‚ disappointment to other’s misunderstand and loneliness. Stories from Alice Pung’s ‘Growing Up Asian in Australia’ and poems
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I should stop there and explain the whole thing. This morning I drifted between consciousness and sleep while everyone bustled around getting ready. They all get up so early and seem to stomp around the house for what feels like an hour before they finally leave. When the noise had subsided I managed to fall back asleep and woke up to my alarm and the foul smell of pho wafting from the kitchen. When I had dragged myself out of bed‚ I shuffled to the kitchen‚ enjoying the emptiness of the house
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You may often hear this when you’re growing up in a public school‚ “Partner up with someone!” or “Find someone to work with.” No matter in what class‚ there’s always a assignment that you need to complete with someone in the classroom. So during the very first day of school‚ I was lost. I followed the crowd to my homeroom‚ and incidentally grabbed one of the brown bags. As I marching up the stairs‚ people start looked into the bags and so do I. Same with all the transfer students‚ I don’t know what
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Growing up with my mom things were pretty blunt‚ DON’T do things you know you have no business doing. My sister Nyla and I were like two peas in a pod‚ we did everything together and often defended one another so it was fair for my mom to assume that if something bad happened we both were in on it and she would spank us. At the time I thought it was horrible‚ I look back now at the stories and I laugh. My sister and I did all sorts of things from sneaking extra snacks to setting a water bed on fire
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