Reflective Essay

At the beginning of my senior year in high school I was sort of nervous, but excited at the same time. I was going into an honors English class, and I knew that it was going to be a very challenging course for me. I started off the year comparing some of my work with my classmates’ work, and I realized that if I wanted to improve my writing I was going to work harder.

We started reading books and writing essays and analyzing the text, and I felt like I was not going to do as well in the class just because it was hard for me. But nothing is impossible, and the year went by, my writing has notably improved. I can truly say this course and Mr. G. have helped me improve, not only my writing, but also my self- confidence.

By reading different types of books throughout the year, and by having all those class discussion, I have learned not only from my teacher, but also from my classmates. Now I am more opened minded, and I have different points of view toward different subjects in literature. I remember reading Memoirs of a geisha, and not agreeing to some of the parts of the book, and that was when I realized that there are not wrong answer when giving out you point of view about things. I really liked that book, and I was amazed by how quickly I read it. When it was time to give the book back, I had already finished it days before.

I also improved my reading skills. I now read, and actually think about what I am reading. I feel like I like to read more, and I am not afraid of taking a book and thinking that the book is to hard for me to read, because now I feel that I have skills that I did not have before, like know how to analyze the text a little bit better, which before I was very bad at.

I can honestly say that now looking back at one of the first essays that I wrote at the beginning of the year, and comparing it to one of the last ones I wrote, I get really amazed by how much my writing has improved. I would have never thought that I could write an eight page paper about a book, which even though for some people eight pages might not mean too much, for me was a challenge. I remember staying up until late reading over and over my James Joyce paper about Stephen’s guilty conscience, and even though is not an A+ paper, I felt proud of myself. I dedicated time to the essay, and I tried my best to try to analyze it the best I could, and I even realized that I had points of view about different subjects and things that I never thought of before.

I am very glad that I took this course, and even though it was challenging for me, I realize how much it helped me and how better my writing is now. I really thank Mr. G. for being a great teacher, and I know that he knows that this course, even though challenging, improved my writing a lot.

Personal-College Essay

The right person at the right time.

Everything seemed so awkward to me. The new school system I had just entered did not make any sense. The way other kids behaved, and the freedom that they seemed to posses was amazing to me. Everyone just had something to do or some place to go; nobody had a moment to explain to me where I was supposed to go.
Being a fourteen year-old girl in a place where you know the traditions, the people around you, and most important a place where everyone speaks the same language is hard enough for many kids; but trying this in a different country is even harder. I started my freshman high school year not understanding what my classmates were talking about or what my history textbook had written on it.
On my first day of school, just as I was about to enter my history class, I saw this older man standing at the door greeting his students as they went inside the classroom. He looked so joyful and happy that my eyes stared at him in amusement. I looked at the sign on his door, his name was Dr. Cabral. Even though he was not a very healthy person, (I later learned he had been in the war some years before and that had caused him severe health problems), he had such lightness on his face that he just made me feel welcome.
I was very unsure about whether or not I was going to be able to come out victorious from this new journey that I had just started. My lack of being able to speak or write English and my not being able to understand this new culture made my first two years of high very hard. I would have never been able to go through those freshman and sophomore years if I had not had the help of my history teacher, who spoke Spanish to me.
He helped me understand a new way of life. He was there in his classroom every time I did not understand what my homework was, or when I needed someone to listen to me when I had problems and did not know how to face them.
When I lived in Venezuela, my native country, everything was so much easier. My classmates at school and everyone I knew over there spoke the same language and we were all part of the same culture.
Three years later, I can still remember that first day of school when everything seemed so out of place for me. I can still remember the face of that man who taught me so much, and who smiled at life even when life was not being kind to him.
He vanished from my life in the same way he came into it, in a silent and unnoticeable way. He left the school because of his health problems, but he still remains in my heart and mind. Now I put in practice everything he taught me. I try to smile at life even when things do not come out the way I expected. He might not be here anymore, but the memories of that man who taught me English and History, and how to feel grateful for the simple reason of being alive remain in my heart and soul. I will always be grateful to life for having put an angel in my life when I most needed him.