Autobiography - I am Mariam Hanafi, and I plan to keep it that way even after I marry.
Autobiography I am Mariam Hanafi, and I plan to keep it that way even after I marry, although that's not going to happen for a while. I'm now fifteen, doing my GCSE's and preparing frantically to go to college next year. I don't know yet where I want to study, or what I want to study, but there are a lot of doors open... I was born on the 19th of May, in 1985, into an Egyptian family. I have two sisters, much older than myself, whom I have often thought of as my second and third mothers. I was born in Dubai, where I've been brought up and consider home. I do visit Egypt often, but always as a tourist or a guest. If I end up going to university there, it should be one big independent adventure. A lot of people tell me it's scary for young girls like me, and that nobody is to be trusted there, but I believe life's about experiences and trying things out for yourself, not just taking the wiser's word for them. Up until I was around six, my family and I lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Karama, in a compound which also accommodated my favorite cousins and fellow playmates -two boys, one older and one younger than me, and a girl my age. We spent long afternoons playing out the roles of our favorite animated heroes: the Ninja Turtles. We would jump on the couches and wave around imaginary weapons and fight the enemies in our heads. I had been attending kindergarten and lower
Strong in Adversity.
Strong in Adversity. I was born a bastard (in the legal sense) on the 26th of April 1987, in Moscow while my father was in Canada as he was denied access into the country, however my mother and father did marry in Moscow in July 1988. I learnt when I was older that this was just the beginning of Glasnost, when the Russian Empire started to break up under President Gorbachev and people were given the first tastes of freedom. The following November my mother who was pregnant and I joined my father to Ottawa, Canada where my mother gave birth to my younger brother Martyn. My earliest memory has to be of snow, every year in Ottawa we would be blessed with a beautiful deep, white blanket. I often reminisce the times Martyn and I made snowmen, built forts and lost our snow boots. I have always had a close bond with my immediate family as we spent most of our time in different places. While in Ottawa we lived in two places Nepean, within the city boundary then my parents had a house built in a very small town called Rockland on the Quebec-Ontario boarder and was predominantly French speaking. I started school when I was five and I do remember the big yellow school bus with the French-speaking drivers who collected us and brought us home everyday. The school was bilingual, speaking both English and French. I started in kindergarten and this is where my first love of music started
Eva's Diary.
Eva's Diary 30/9/10 The strike failed miserably. Not only did I not succeed in making any difference to the wages whatsoever but I also lost my job and made others lose theirs too in the process. I'm glad I did it though, some body had to stick up for what is right, we work hard and take risks working with dangerous machinery so it was only fair that myself and others got a rise in our pay. It shouldn't be a problem getting a new job though so I'm not worried about money, it has just been the holidays though and I am a little short financially so I must be quick about finding a new employment. 25/10/10 I haven't written in my diary for a while due to my difficult current situation... Life has just been so hard lately, I thought it would be easy to find a new job but nearly a month has passed now and I still haven't found one, I cannot see it happening in the near future either or even distant future for that matter, there are simply no job opportunities around for a girl like me. I'm starving, cold and getting dangerously desperate - I have no parents to turn to, no home to stay in and no money to provide me with even the bare essentials. I have no way out of this awful situation; I can't go on living like this! 2/12/10 I'm so excited! Well, I shouldn't get too hopeful yet, it still isn't certain and I don't want to be disappointed. I went for a job interview at
This is a true story based upon my personal experience in my early childhood. I am going to write about someone very dear in my life, who has inspired me from the beginning - my mother
My Own Experience This is a true story based upon my personal experience in my early childhood. I am going to write about someone very dear in my life, who has inspired me from the beginning - my mother. Born as the eldest child in a family of four in Mauritius and being the first grand child in the family, she spent all of her childhood years with her grand parents. From the day she came out of hospital after her birth, her aunts and uncles dressed and treated her like a fragile china doll despite her own parents living right next door. After successfully completing her 11+ exams with 5 A-grades, she took her first plane journey to England, leaving behind the family she was brought up by, to live with her parents and siblings for the very first time. After taking the entrance exam at Highbury Hill Grammar School in Highbury, she gained a place in year seven where she continued on to complete her A-levels. Additionally here school supported her in improving her English. She left Highbury Hill Grammar with 3 A-levels, gaining all A's in English, French, and Geography. She then went on to pursue a career in meteorology; her ambition was to become a meteorologist. However, she was deterred and became a qualified linguist. She went on to study at London University in Central London and The French Institute in South Kensington. During these years her most rebellious
She interviews a typical worker which is a 16 year old girl earning 4 shillings a week. In source A we see that it was written by Annie Besant which means this source could by biaist in supporting the match stick girls.
Match stick girls Qu 1 She interviews a typical worker which is a 16 year old girl earning 4 shillings a week. In source A we see that it was written by Annie Besant which means this source could by biaist in supporting the match stick girls. The source was written for a magazine called The Link this magazine campaigned for better working conditions. The article was written on, 23 of June 1888. In the source Annie Beasent is sarcastic towards the money that the match stick girls get paid "her sister earns 8 shillings (40p) fines are then deducted from this splendid wage." also she shows that the girls get fined for lots of little things like if she has dirty feet she will be fined and some where also shut out of the factory for half the day if they where late (6 hours) and for this they would only get half pay for that day. Also in this source it points out something that Annie Besant saw and the source says, "one girl was fined 5p for letting the material twist round the machine to save her fingers from being cut. The foreman says never mind your fingers watch the machine "this shows that the foremen did not care about the girls and there working conditions and all there cared about is profit and getting as much hard work out of the match stick girls as possible and if they got hurt in the process so be it. The girls would also suffer being hit now again by a foreman when
Is The Educational System Really Providing an Education?
Gerson Belmonte English 3 Mr. Garza Essay #2 27 February 2012 Is The Educational System Really Providing an Education? School, the place where all individuals go through according to society's standard to achieve success. The purpose of going to school is usually viewed as in to get a good education, and therefore becoming educated. Going to an institution of higher education and becoming that successful American the United States always portrays, is what everyone seems to need in order to be a good successful citizen. But are Americans really getting an education? Are they really becoming educated? Or are they just schooled, by trained teachers following the standards given by the government? Taylor Gatto's premise in his essay describes how the United States' education system is only schooling Americans rather than educating them. According to Gatto, the school system is nothing more than a system to only fabricate good people, good citizens, and to make each person at his or her personal best. He states that the system's purpose is to create good citizens who conform, consume and produce. He therefore writes in his essay that since education isn't in society's best interests or priorities, a real education is only reserved for those who are privileged or actively pursue it, taking it. He basically declares that the U.S educational system is joke and that if a person
What conclusions regarding morality in advertising can be drawn from the Benetton advertising campaign of the 1980's and early 90's?
What conclusions regarding morality in advertising can be drawn from the Benetton advertising campaign of the 1980's and early 90's? In the 1980's an increase in the amount of money, which went into an advertisement, was increasing dramatically, Campaigns were being increased and brands recognised. Companies were researching and understanding what exactly people wanted and what appealed. This research boiled down to four main groups. Firstly the mainstreamers; people who needed security and who felt that something was missing in their lives. The aspirer; the person who liked all the good things in life. The succeeded; the person who had to be in control. And lastly the Reformer, who had self-fulfilment, and liked the whole picture. Benetton today has become one of the most well known clothing companies, but the majority of people know Benetton for its shocking advertising. The responsibility for this is mostly down to one man, by the name of Tuscani, who had partnered Benetton for 18yrs. "I am not here to sell pullovers, but to promote an image..." His work was highly controversial, and shocked and confused people. A few examples of his shocking campaigns are images from war such as the soldier's bloodstained uniform of a soldier, who had been killed in action. Another was a reality campaign, in which Tuscani used other people's traumatic and troubled lives. He simply
Autobiographical piece and reflective commentary. December 5th, 2009. I am standing in the freezing wind on the doorstep of a womens refuge in Plymouth.
The Refuge December 5th, 2009. I am standing in the freezing wind on the doorstep of a women’s refuge in Plymouth. Three weeks till Christmas, and there I am, no suitcases, no belongings, just the clothes I am standing in. I ring the bell and the door is opened by Estelle, the woman I had spoken to on the phone earlier. She takes me through to the office and sits me down. I feel as if I am not there, there is a sort of transcendental feeling to all this. It is as if I am not in my body, I am listening to someone else answer her questions. How many times had he been violent? What were my current injuries? Did I have a police crime number for the latest incident? These are the questions I think she asked me, though I cannot be sure; I think I was in shock. Not so much shock of the latest incident, but shock that I was there. A new recruit so to speak; the latest guest at the home for battered women (this is how my current boyfriend describes it when he speaks of it; not very PC I know, but then he isn’t the PC type). How had it come to this? I had such hopes when I moved to Plymouth, such dreams. We had the odd tiff even then, but it’s funny how the mind forgets the bad sometimes in order to paint a more romantic picture. I think I wanted him so badly, I didn’t want to see the signs that all was not well. We never do, do we? Maybe broken relationships don’t all end
Personal Essay | How has a place influenced you?
Emma Rappoldt 0107892 English 1000 G ESSAY #2 November 1, 2012 Emma Rappoldt 0107892 Section G “Describe a place you have lived in or visited that has influenced you. Be as analytical as you can.” I was born in Oromocto, New Brunswick during a blustering snowstorm in 1993. Late November was always cold there, but when I was seven in 2000, I welcomed the move to Halifax, Nova Scotia, hoping for a more forgiving climate. Even when I was seven, the climate and feel of New Brunswick seemed foreign, and I felt out of place. Moving to Nova Scotia, unfortunately, left me with the same feeling. I longed for a place with distinctive weather, far from the dull and constant grey clouds in both Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. I wanted to see beautiful ancient architecture, homes with shutters painted by hand, and front doors made of real wood. I wanted to wake up and look out an old fashioned window to see a building a hundred years old, being pelted with endless blankets of rain. But the harsh reality of a double paned, new glass window showed an asphalt street lined with eerily similar houses and fake looking green grass. I kept trinkets on the sill of this window. These trinkets represented the places in the world that I wanted to see, and the things I wanted to believe in. I kept a keychain of the Great Wall of China here, lying on its side because
The Break.
People at a young age, become very depended on their parents, and later on, find it very hard to go somewhere without their parents. During the summer of last year, my parents had given me a choice. They asked me if I wanted to go to a summer camp in Switzerland. Like all teenagers I had developed a curiosity for the outside world, and Switzerland was the perfect answer to the problem. I obviously answered positively to my parents since it crossed my mind that this was the perfect way to go somewhere without having my parent's shadow behind my back... Very soon, I found myself at the airport ready to depart for Switzerland, as far away from my parents as I possibly could. I felt sad and afraid that I was going out in a world I had no clue about and in a world that I had no idea how to react, but yet again just the fact that I was going to go away from my parents and that I was going to meet a new world made me happy in my misery. It was time to depart and I knew that saying goodbye to my parents wouldn't be easy. In fact, it was the hardest thing I had done, since I knew that in Switzerland I wouldn't have my parents' help or their encouragement. I quickly boarded the plane leaving the idea about not having my parents' help behind, and looking forward to landing in the unknown. The plane journey happened like a blink of an eye, since I was so happy and anxious to get to my