NO idea where im going with this
started writing my paper too late and so i just started rambling. this is what i have so far.
but now its time to stop and organize everything and add more
because once i sort this mess out...i MIGHT end up with a paragraph if im lucky
i really wish i knew what my prof. wanted from this essay
tomorrow, well, today, is when the REAL work begins
the essay will be done by tonight (friday night)
I grew up in a modest town in Southeastern Massachusetts. I was a small town girl with big city dreams. When I was five-years-old, I remember going into Boston with my mom to see where she worked, John Hancock, a large glass building right by the harbor. We went around the city and saw the swan boats, Fenway Park, and then I saw it. It was where I decided I would go and spend some of the greatest years of my life. It was Harvard. All it took was one glance at the grandeur brick buildings and the infinite amounts of stairs and I was in love. I told my mother that I was going to go to Harvard and when I grew up I was going to be a lawyer. My mother looked at me and smiled and told me “You can be whatever you want to be, Sara!” This, coming from my mother, may as well have been my acceptance letter.
Since I am writing this essay for my Seminole Community College English class in Oviedo, Florida, one thing is for sure; I didn’t go to Harvard. Many things have changed since that day in Boston. I still remain a small town girl with big city dreams however I have grown to swallow reality, no matter how much I would love to spit it back out at the world and go back to being five years old again, when everything was possible.
When we’re young, mommy and daddy tell us that we are able to do whatever they want. They do not tell us that our dreams are too expensive, that we are not fast enough, tall enough, pretty enough, or smart enough. If our parents were to introduce us to reality, others would stare in shock and awe and say “How could you say such a thing?” When we are young, we are conditioned to be naïve and this is what our culture tells us is acceptable. As soon as I hit the bold age of ten, my fantasy world disappeared.
I grew up in a conservative Jewish home. My parents placed a heavy emphasis upon two things; one of which was education. While all my other friends were worrying about clothes and makeup, I was hidden behind a book. An A average was never good enough. The only extracurricular activities I had were my Jewish school, which I attended three days a week after secular school, school sports and school-related clubs. Since these were my only options I had of getting out of the house I jumped at every opportunity. I was on the softball team, basketball team, swim team, robotics club, newspaper staff, yearbook committee, and drama club; if you can name it I was most likely in it.
The most important factor was family, something that may seem a little convoluted. Our family dinners, for example, were always the same. My brother and sister would sit down while my mother and I set the table. We would call to my father, who was always in his office, to let him know that dinner was ready. I would then go into his office to let him know that dinner was ready and he would scold me and tell me that he was busy and would be there in a minute. Ten minutes later, he would march downstairs to the table, sigh, inhale his plate, and then excuse himself back to his office to finish working. Now, while I understood that he was doing work for his family, it still upset me that we didn’t have real family dinners.
Despite our lack of bonding at the dinner table, my father was always there to encourage me to do my best, rather, to do better. This aspect of our relationship is something that I have found to be common in many relationships in the American culture. The idea that nothing is ever good enough has been and will continue to be very popular in our society. I would come home from school with my math grade back, grinning from ear to ear, saying how I received a 98 on my exam. To me, this was a great grade. My father would respond “Why didn’t you get a 100.” While deep down I knew he was kidding, I always longed for some sort of appreciation or acknowledgement for my hard work.
but now its time to stop and organize everything and add more
because once i sort this mess out...i MIGHT end up with a paragraph if im lucky
i really wish i knew what my prof. wanted from this essay
tomorrow, well, today, is when the REAL work begins
the essay will be done by tonight (friday night)
I grew up in a modest town in Southeastern Massachusetts. I was a small town girl with big city dreams. When I was five-years-old, I remember going into Boston with my mom to see where she worked, John Hancock, a large glass building right by the harbor. We went around the city and saw the swan boats, Fenway Park, and then I saw it. It was where I decided I would go and spend some of the greatest years of my life. It was Harvard. All it took was one glance at the grandeur brick buildings and the infinite amounts of stairs and I was in love. I told my mother that I was going to go to Harvard and when I grew up I was going to be a lawyer. My mother looked at me and smiled and told me “You can be whatever you want to be, Sara!” This, coming from my mother, may as well have been my acceptance letter.
Since I am writing this essay for my Seminole Community College English class in Oviedo, Florida, one thing is for sure; I didn’t go to Harvard. Many things have changed since that day in Boston. I still remain a small town girl with big city dreams however I have grown to swallow reality, no matter how much I would love to spit it back out at the world and go back to being five years old again, when everything was possible.
When we’re young, mommy and daddy tell us that we are able to do whatever they want. They do not tell us that our dreams are too expensive, that we are not fast enough, tall enough, pretty enough, or smart enough. If our parents were to introduce us to reality, others would stare in shock and awe and say “How could you say such a thing?” When we are young, we are conditioned to be naïve and this is what our culture tells us is acceptable. As soon as I hit the bold age of ten, my fantasy world disappeared.
I grew up in a conservative Jewish home. My parents placed a heavy emphasis upon two things; one of which was education. While all my other friends were worrying about clothes and makeup, I was hidden behind a book. An A average was never good enough. The only extracurricular activities I had were my Jewish school, which I attended three days a week after secular school, school sports and school-related clubs. Since these were my only options I had of getting out of the house I jumped at every opportunity. I was on the softball team, basketball team, swim team, robotics club, newspaper staff, yearbook committee, and drama club; if you can name it I was most likely in it.
The most important factor was family, something that may seem a little convoluted. Our family dinners, for example, were always the same. My brother and sister would sit down while my mother and I set the table. We would call to my father, who was always in his office, to let him know that dinner was ready. I would then go into his office to let him know that dinner was ready and he would scold me and tell me that he was busy and would be there in a minute. Ten minutes later, he would march downstairs to the table, sigh, inhale his plate, and then excuse himself back to his office to finish working. Now, while I understood that he was doing work for his family, it still upset me that we didn’t have real family dinners.
Despite our lack of bonding at the dinner table, my father was always there to encourage me to do my best, rather, to do better. This aspect of our relationship is something that I have found to be common in many relationships in the American culture. The idea that nothing is ever good enough has been and will continue to be very popular in our society. I would come home from school with my math grade back, grinning from ear to ear, saying how I received a 98 on my exam. To me, this was a great grade. My father would respond “Why didn’t you get a 100.” While deep down I knew he was kidding, I always longed for some sort of appreciation or acknowledgement for my hard work.