Personal Narrative: Twelve-Year-Olds

Twelve-year-olds are thinking of hanging out with friends, being in school, or just trying to be “cool”.
Well not me.
As a twelve year old my naive self was thinking of ways of making money so I could help my mom. I was lucky. Back in the Dominican Republic a friend of the family needed help with her daycare. She said that the job wasn't hard and that she would make sure the person felt comfortable in the workplace. When I heard that, I thought “Bingo! This is exactly what I needed, easy work plus easy money.” When she mentioned how much she would pay for so little work my eyebrows rose in surprise. I promised her that if she hired me I would do my best to make the environment a fun place to be for the children. Everyday after school
“They are cute, but my favorite animals are dogs,” she admitted.
I had gotten her to speak to me. Every day on my way to work I stopped at the corner store to buy a pilon for her and each time that I brought it to her, she would scream my name and with a smile on her face. She became more engaged. I learned that her favorite color was green because it reminded her of her granny's parrot. She explained that one of the reasons she didn't play with the other children was because she has a stutter and sometimes the children made fun of her.
She opened herself little by little. She was having conversations with the children around her and playing with them more often. I never knew if the reason she was making progress was because of all the pilones that I gave her, but I was extremely happy that she wasn't feeling left out anymore. I was proud of her. Working in that daycare made it possible for me to help a seven-year-old girl to be more sociable. I love to think that I changed that little girl’s life for the better. At first, I was happy that I was able to make money and help my mom, but I was happier that I was helping that little