Military service members may be out there protecting our freedoms, but they aren't the only ones fighting-we military brats are too. Growing up, I felt amazed to have the opportunity to stand in front of the original works of Michelangelo and eye the rust-colored streaks of the immense Grand Canyon , but distraught when my father had to leave years at once. My life came crashing down melodramatically when I had to leave Italy due to my parent's divorce.
Not only did I grasp the fact that I had been separated from my father, but also realized that I struggled tremendously due to a lack of a male role model in the family. I was now a statistic defined by CNN News-a child of the "50% more likely to struggle in school due to a broken home". I wasn't going to let a generalized figure define me, so I convinced myself to put my all into school because if my father was out there fighting for me, I could fight for my dreams as well.
Years passed, and I continuously excelled in school. But as I entered the "high school years", expenses rose and my mother was no longer able to support me and my two sisters by herself. I was expected to help my mother out, so until junior year I babysat my younger half-sister and nephew while my older sister and mother worked. However, when the summer of my junior year approached, my sister lost her job and I agreed that I had to pitch in by working.
Meanwhile, I was determined to excel in my education. When I discovered that I was the class valedictorian, I imagined graduating with my father sitting in the audience listening to my speech; my imagination became my motivation, so I became persistent to strive for that goal thus, it became a fixation. Working part time, babysitting, volunteering, and attending Valencia College as a dual enrollment student comprised all of my time. It wasn't until senior year when not only did my mother finally get back onto her feet a bit, but when I also realized the importance of not only contributing to my community, but as well with my schools.
Concisely, the effects of a broken up family are apparent on a child-or better yet, on me. At the end of the day, even though my father is my hero, he is not able to stand at the door waiting for me to run up and hug him every day. Instead, he is constantly moving overseas that if I am lucky enough to see him, it may be every two years. But instead of allowing myself to become a clichéd statistic, I'd rather use that as an advantage and contribute that to my academic success. But out of school, I had several family responsibilities that constrained my contributions to my school community and rearranged my priorities. Whether it's babysitting instead of playing my beloved sport of soccer, or working rather than attending the homecoming football game, I had to put my family first. Nonetheless, I remembered that my father was out there protecting my country; therefore I lacked a male role model in the house, but that allowed me to step up and not only help my family like my father was helping me, but help myself with my journey to success.
Not only did I grasp the fact that I had been separated from my father, but also realized that I struggled tremendously due to a lack of a male role model in the family. I was now a statistic defined by CNN News-a child of the "50% more likely to struggle in school due to a broken home". I wasn't going to let a generalized figure define me, so I convinced myself to put my all into school because if my father was out there fighting for me, I could fight for my dreams as well.
Years passed, and I continuously excelled in school. But as I entered the "high school years", expenses rose and my mother was no longer able to support me and my two sisters by herself. I was expected to help my mother out, so until junior year I babysat my younger half-sister and nephew while my older sister and mother worked. However, when the summer of my junior year approached, my sister lost her job and I agreed that I had to pitch in by working.
Meanwhile, I was determined to excel in my education. When I discovered that I was the class valedictorian, I imagined graduating with my father sitting in the audience listening to my speech; my imagination became my motivation, so I became persistent to strive for that goal thus, it became a fixation. Working part time, babysitting, volunteering, and attending Valencia College as a dual enrollment student comprised all of my time. It wasn't until senior year when not only did my mother finally get back onto her feet a bit, but when I also realized the importance of not only contributing to my community, but as well with my schools.
Concisely, the effects of a broken up family are apparent on a child-or better yet, on me. At the end of the day, even though my father is my hero, he is not able to stand at the door waiting for me to run up and hug him every day. Instead, he is constantly moving overseas that if I am lucky enough to see him, it may be every two years. But instead of allowing myself to become a clichéd statistic, I'd rather use that as an advantage and contribute that to my academic success. But out of school, I had several family responsibilities that constrained my contributions to my school community and rearranged my priorities. Whether it's babysitting instead of playing my beloved sport of soccer, or working rather than attending the homecoming football game, I had to put my family first. Nonetheless, I remembered that my father was out there protecting my country; therefore I lacked a male role model in the house, but that allowed me to step up and not only help my family like my father was helping me, but help myself with my journey to success.
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