Autobiographical Narrative
Throughout the first couple of weeks in class, we read a short story called Through The Tunnel by Doris Lessing, and autobiographical narrative about a young boy on vacation who goes through a Rite of Passage. Our job was to write a similar story about a time in our lives that made us grow, change, or learn a lesson. I wrote about the time when I was in third grade and my mother was pregnant with my youngest brother. I chose this because everything changed for me throughout this experience, but I also learned a lot from this as well.
The Next Nine Months
Most kids would be thrilled to find out that they are going to be an older brother or sister. I, on the other hand, displayed the complete opposite reaction. It was September of the year 2005 when all of this began. I just started third grade and my mom and I were very excited about the new school year, mostly because we could both finally speak English perfectly. When I came to my new school the previous year, I did not have very many friends; but by the end of my second grade year and the beginning of my third grade year, I had many. As far as I was concerned, everything was going smoothly and accordingly to plan. I thought that this would be the best and most fun year ever! Little did I know that these next nine months would be the most stressful nine months my mom and I would ever face.
It was a hot summer day in September. My mom was driving my brother and me to his baseball game. My brother and I were talking about some unimportant topic that we had talked about so many time before. While we were talking, I noticed that my mom was very quiet, which was very odd for her. I felt like something was wrong, but did not want to say anything because I was afraid she would get mad at me. Then, when I finally got the courage to open my mouth and ask her what was wrong, she said it - those eight words that would change my life forever. “ You are going to have another little brother!” she blurted out as if she had been holding it in for the longest time. My mouth dropped open. I was speechless! My brother, however, was overjoyed. He thought that he was finally going to have someone to play with. I would have experienced the same reaction as my brother, but I knew what this meant. I had seen many movies about women when they are pregnant, and I thought that they caused uneccesary destruction.I knew what those next nine months would bring to our household: chaos.
My prediction came true. Those next couple of months were overflowing with disorder. It was not all my mom’s fault, though , the commotion and chaos , we all played a big role in causing it. I do sadly admit that I was mostly responsible for for causing most of the disruption. Now looking back, I can see why I was so upset. I believe it was because my mom and the new baby were getting all of the attention and I felt unimportant. I also admit that I lashed out in order to try to get more attention. I threw tantrums, misbehaved in class, and was mad at everyone all the time. I focused every day on making sure that everyone else knew how I felt : mad. However, I was not the one that had the right to be mad.
While I was “traveling on my road of rage,” I did not realize that my mom was the one who was truly irritable and frustrated all the time. She was the one who had morning sickness everyday; she was the one who cleaned the house, and cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner; she was the one who was expected to help us with our homework and be patient with us; she was the one who had to be in a good mood all the time; she was the one who was carrying a baby inside of her. I suddenly felt badly about the way I was acting and misbehaving. I felt that my mom would be mad at me forever for behaving this way. However, by the time I realized this, the nine months had passed; it was time.
This was it! The end of all of the stress, frustration, commotion, and hardships throughout those past nine months. It was finally over! It all happened on that one night of May 23, 2006 at eight thirty p.m. I was reading my mom a book about Helen Keller while my whole family and I were watching American Idol. My dad had just come home from work when my mom started to cringe sharply. I knew it was time! That was the signal! As soon as she realized it was time, she ran upstairs, as fast as a pregnant woman could, took a shower, and packed for her trip to the hospital. I too, ran upstairs, but I went to go get the phone and call my grandmother, and just about everyone else that I knew. I knew I would now be in charge of taking care of my brother while my mom was in the hospital. Now, all I could do was wait for a phone call from my dad in the morning.
I received a phone call from my dad the next morning at about nine o’ clock. He said that Alex was born later the previous night at about 9:30 p.m. Then, later on in the morning, my grandfather came to pick my brother and me up and drove us to the hospital were I was able to hold Alex for the first time. At that moment, when I was holding him in my arms, I realized it was all worth it; and as I stared into his small face, I realized that not everything was always going to be about me, and that there are more important things in life. This whole experience taught me to not be selfish, and that just because you do not get what you want, does not mean that you are not loved or being payed attention to. Now, five years later, he can not manage to stay out of my room. I still remember that dreadful day when he took his first step...but that is a whole other story.
Most kids would be thrilled to find out that they are going to be an older brother or sister. I, on the other hand, displayed the complete opposite reaction. It was September of the year 2005 when all of this began. I just started third grade and my mom and I were very excited about the new school year, mostly because we could both finally speak English perfectly. When I came to my new school the previous year, I did not have very many friends; but by the end of my second grade year and the beginning of my third grade year, I had many. As far as I was concerned, everything was going smoothly and accordingly to plan. I thought that this would be the best and most fun year ever! Little did I know that these next nine months would be the most stressful nine months my mom and I would ever face.
It was a hot summer day in September. My mom was driving my brother and me to his baseball game. My brother and I were talking about some unimportant topic that we had talked about so many time before. While we were talking, I noticed that my mom was very quiet, which was very odd for her. I felt like something was wrong, but did not want to say anything because I was afraid she would get mad at me. Then, when I finally got the courage to open my mouth and ask her what was wrong, she said it - those eight words that would change my life forever. “ You are going to have another little brother!” she blurted out as if she had been holding it in for the longest time. My mouth dropped open. I was speechless! My brother, however, was overjoyed. He thought that he was finally going to have someone to play with. I would have experienced the same reaction as my brother, but I knew what this meant. I had seen many movies about women when they are pregnant, and I thought that they caused uneccesary destruction.I knew what those next nine months would bring to our household: chaos.
My prediction came true. Those next couple of months were overflowing with disorder. It was not all my mom’s fault, though , the commotion and chaos , we all played a big role in causing it. I do sadly admit that I was mostly responsible for for causing most of the disruption. Now looking back, I can see why I was so upset. I believe it was because my mom and the new baby were getting all of the attention and I felt unimportant. I also admit that I lashed out in order to try to get more attention. I threw tantrums, misbehaved in class, and was mad at everyone all the time. I focused every day on making sure that everyone else knew how I felt : mad. However, I was not the one that had the right to be mad.
While I was “traveling on my road of rage,” I did not realize that my mom was the one who was truly irritable and frustrated all the time. She was the one who had morning sickness everyday; she was the one who cleaned the house, and cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner; she was the one who was expected to help us with our homework and be patient with us; she was the one who had to be in a good mood all the time; she was the one who was carrying a baby inside of her. I suddenly felt badly about the way I was acting and misbehaving. I felt that my mom would be mad at me forever for behaving this way. However, by the time I realized this, the nine months had passed; it was time.
This was it! The end of all of the stress, frustration, commotion, and hardships throughout those past nine months. It was finally over! It all happened on that one night of May 23, 2006 at eight thirty p.m. I was reading my mom a book about Helen Keller while my whole family and I were watching American Idol. My dad had just come home from work when my mom started to cringe sharply. I knew it was time! That was the signal! As soon as she realized it was time, she ran upstairs, as fast as a pregnant woman could, took a shower, and packed for her trip to the hospital. I too, ran upstairs, but I went to go get the phone and call my grandmother, and just about everyone else that I knew. I knew I would now be in charge of taking care of my brother while my mom was in the hospital. Now, all I could do was wait for a phone call from my dad in the morning.
I received a phone call from my dad the next morning at about nine o’ clock. He said that Alex was born later the previous night at about 9:30 p.m. Then, later on in the morning, my grandfather came to pick my brother and me up and drove us to the hospital were I was able to hold Alex for the first time. At that moment, when I was holding him in my arms, I realized it was all worth it; and as I stared into his small face, I realized that not everything was always going to be about me, and that there are more important things in life. This whole experience taught me to not be selfish, and that just because you do not get what you want, does not mean that you are not loved or being payed attention to. Now, five years later, he can not manage to stay out of my room. I still remember that dreadful day when he took his first step...but that is a whole other story.
This was the first paper that I wrote for my teacher, Ms. Britt. I was very nervous about making a good first impression, however, I enjoyed writing this paper because this was a very difficult time in my life, not only for me, but for everyone else in my family as well. I learned a lot about how to write an autobiographical narrative because this was the first time I had written this specific style of writing and I found that I really enjoyed it.