middle-of-nowhere upstate New York. It was going to be my first time driving an actual go-kart‚ a kart that could go much faster than any Spongebob-themed ones at any amusement park. As I was sitting there‚ my dad was telling me that‚ no matter what‚ it was important that I was having fun‚ and to not be discouraged because he knew that I was going to be the only girl. Sure enough‚ I was the only girl. My story is not unique because there are millions of girls‚ young ladies‚ and women in our country alone who
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welcoming because I barely spoke Spanish; and the fact that I was not the typical Mexican girl‚ but rather more of a tourist‚ did not exactly aid me in the process of making friends either. This initial rejection gave me the spirit to push myself to improve my Spanish and to observe and learn about the culture from the people around me. By the time I entered elementary school‚ I was still “The American Girl‚” but I had learned to assimilate to my life in Mexico‚ and I had even made a few friends
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Haley was so nervous‚ it was her first day in Kinder. She was this pretty little girl with fluffy brown hair and amazing big brown eyes; yet‚ she had always been an insecure girl. She constantly thought to herself‚ “what will other children think of me? What if I do not make friends? What if no one likes me?” as she looked for her classroom this was all she could think of. Then she saw the sign on a door that said “Kinder” with a blue butterfly. As she entered‚ every head in the room turned towards
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wondered who those men were and was surprised at being so openly objectified by a large group. Why were they standing idly on the side of the road with Cokes and beers in hand heckling at young girls while women and children were left to carry buckets of water that were half as heavy as they were? For the first time‚ I grasped the meaning of patriarchal
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told me to the girls on the lower field were mine. Scanning the group‚ I noticed most girls were standing in laughing and joking in small groups‚ discussing the current events of middles school life. One girl caught my eye‚ she was standing off to the side with her mother--a heavyset girl with scrunched shoulders and hair‚ a bit knotty‚ hanging in her face. It would be hard to be a chubby girl in a running program‚ with all these stick figure middle school girls. Of the two dozen girls‚ this one needed
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Brooklyn’s Girl My Grandfather Eugeino Saviglio went back to Italy to find a wife. He fell in love with a girl named Maria Pia my grandmother. Just to get her attention he went to her house everyday and when he was at work he sent her love letters. After they got married he took her to America Brooklyn‚ New york. My mother Maria Saviglio was a tomboy at first ‚ but had a lot of friend and she loved Brooklyn so much I guess you can call her brooklyn’s girl.She had an older sister and a younger
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She walked me over to the edge of the trailer park. For an odd reason‚ Jessica stood in her parking lot‚ waiting for me to return. Her eyes moved from me to Rhonoda‚ and her cheeks reddened. Rhonoda didn’t seem to notice at first‚ simply introducing herself to Jessica‚ but her smile faded from the cold astrosphere. She glanced at me woefully before saying goodbye. When I was a child‚ I didn’t truly understand‚ but now looking back‚ I’ve realized. Her family saw themselves
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stop briefly to smell the fresh air and wonder. Where did Faith mysteriously disappear to? He felt lonesome‚ since Faith the only girl who showed him any kindness. He made his way to school without much delay and enter the main hallway. He walks towards his locker and put away his stuff. When he closed it shut‚ he saw Jessica glancing at him. Jessica is a luscious girl and have just the right curves. Each time she walks by boys and even teachers. Their eyes never leaves her gorgeous body. Her popularity
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By using the first person narrative point of view‚ Twain carries on the southwestern humor tradition of vernacular language; that is‚ Huck sounds as a young‚ uneducated boy from Missouri should sound. This first sentence also alludes to The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. The allusion reminds the reader of a novel about boys and their adventures‚ the purpose of which
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I awoke to the slamming of the front door‚ remembering that it was Sunday‚ my dad’s favorite day of the year‚ the first day of hunting season. I jump out of bed and stumble down the stairs waking everybody else in the house up. Looking out the window I see my dad pull away in his big red pickup truck with the sleeve of his orange hunting jacket hanging out the window. Hoping he brings home dinner‚ I start to make myself breakfast‚ I make my dad’s favorite; eggs with crispy bacon. As I’m cooking breakfast
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