Narrative Essay On Cardenas
BBEEEP, BBEEEP, BEEEEP on and on sounded my deeply despised but beloved alarm. It was four in the morning and once again time to get up. This cycle was killing me, but the goal embedded deeply into my mind reminded me that it would be worth it. Determination has never been a skill I lacked at. It might just be, the fact, that we the “Cardenas” are known to be extremely stubborn and what we say typically gets done. Or maybe it is due to the multiple observations I have made throughout life. Yet, I think I must consider saying that it is neither, or, but both that have built me into who I am. I have grown up in a Mexican household where strenuous work has always been necessary to strive. My earliest memories of my parents are that of them coming home exhausted from backbreaking labor. I can recall numerous nights when I should have been asleep, but instead stayed up to listen to the “grown up talk”, this talk generally consisting of what the next job would be. I have never really sought to think about what truly impacted me to want to attend a college, something not foreseen in my family, yet as I sit and type this I realize the many things that built in me the
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I can not remember when it was exactly that I learned to read, but I can say for sure that reading has always been a passion of mine. Unfortunately, at my house reading was not something praised, for there were even instances where books got thrown away. This due to the fact, that according to my father, “they were useless”. Yet, seeing his disapproval in books did not stop me from reading, but pushed me to try harder in math, what he referred to as “the only relevant subject”, yet my best did not satisfy him. I did not allow this lack of support to bring me down, but instead let it remind me that I was my own motivation. My academics were never something that was monitored or enforced by my
I can not remember when it was exactly that I learned to read, but I can say for sure that reading has always been a passion of mine. Unfortunately, at my house reading was not something praised, for there were even instances where books got thrown away. This due to the fact, that according to my father, “they were useless”. Yet, seeing his disapproval in books did not stop me from reading, but pushed me to try harder in math, what he referred to as “the only relevant subject”, yet my best did not satisfy him. I did not allow this lack of support to bring me down, but instead let it remind me that I was my own motivation. My academics were never something that was monitored or enforced by my