Silent Child

Sad to say, I have low self-esteem ever since I reached 3rd grade. I was known to be the quietest student in Akiuk. Out of school, my community in ------ knew me as alingtaq, which means a person who gets scared of anything and anyone. In general, I was shy and quiet around people.
During the two years before going on to 3rd grade, I felt more comfortable with my environment and my teachers. One reason was because my classmates and I were educated in Yup’ik in all subjects. I felt like I conquered reading, writing, and math. Though, I was still quiet. Until I moved into 3rd grade, it worsened. The year I transferred from Yupik education to English. That meant I had an English teacher, who only spoke English.
I had Ms. Rose as my 3rd grade teacher. Whenever Ms. Rose called me in front of class to answer a question, she had to come real close to my mouth in order for her to hear me. Funny thing is, I still wasn’t heard. I was mute. Actually, being in English 111 brought back the memories how I used to be like then. Being the quiet one, and let others take charge.
I’m actually talkative. White people have intimidated me all my life. Their first language is English. I spoke Yup’ik growing up. I had to learn English when I finally entered 3rd grade. I had to work twice as hard to get to where I am now. I had issues talking in front of my own kind, too, in class. Yet, I knew the answers to what the teacher asked. I couldn’t talk in front of them because there was only one other girl in the class with me.
I hated quietness dominating me. I desired to come out of my shell. I was tired of being known as the shy girl in school. Instead of having clammy hands, I wanted to crack open to become confident and comfortable talking in front of an audience. I became determined to build my confidence. I didn’t know how I’d over come my silence.
Ms. Rose introduced speech contest to me in 5th grade. I thought students just gave a speech to only two judges through out the contest. Reluctantly, I joined speech. What the heck, I thought, I can just try. So, I attended the first practice. My peers seemed surprised that I joined. I couldn’t blame them. I was quiet.
Weeks passed and I practiced my selected poem I wanted to recite. The poem was called “Lonely Loon.” I practiced it all the time, while walking to and from school, in between classes, even while I used the bathroom! I’d imagine how I’d present myself and my speech. I had to have a tone in my voice to release the mood of my poem. I also needed motions. Determination was at hand.
Finally, the week came to go to ----- to compete with other students from ------.It turned out I was actually looking forward to it. Until when Wednesday came near, and then it changed to agitation. I remember flying to ------ from ------. Too quick of a flight, the time said ten. Speech would start in three hours, I informed myself. Each minute passed, I knew I’d be entering my own death penalty, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
The speech contest started at the district office at one. I hadn’t known speech was so popular. Viewing from the second floor, there were so many colorful duffle bags covering the main floor. I guessed there were at least 90 students.
Once I got my assigned room to present my speech, turtle-walk took over my legs. It had taken me at least fifteen minutes to finally give-in to find the room number. I got myself comfortable on the floor, and waited for the judges to call my name. Students appeared one by one. Oh my God, I thought agitatedly, white kids. My throat felt parched. My guts seemed like they’d come out any time. I read my speech a million times while waiting to distract myself. No turning back, I told myself.
I figured that we were going to give our speeches to two judges only. One judge came out of the room and started calling one student at a time. As each student came out of the door, their cheeks would be flushed red. Judges finally called my name after five students gone. I stood up and walked inside to the dungeon. Both of the judges weren’t Yup’ik. The two made my feeling of vomiting worsen. Whenever you’re ready, they said, smiling. I took a deep breathe and off I went. I didn’t know what to expect.
I actually did great for my first try in speech. When I first started giving my presentation, I knew my voice was shaking, my legs were weak. I heard my heart pounding in my ears. The whole time I was wondering if I was obvious that I was at the pit-point of losing myself. As I went along, I started relaxing and went with the flow of my poem. I was the poem. At the end of it, my face was red-hot.
My teacher was impressed. I managed to get to semi-finals as a 5th grader. I even gave my speech in front of other students in the second round. I actually liked the nervous feeling before giving my speech. I received back my score sheets. I was surprised to see it said my voice was loud and clear. I received a five, which was the highest you can get. Wow, I thought, I was loud enough.
The whole time during speech practice, my goal was to speak up louder and overcome my fear of talking in front of people. I accomplished it by choosing to do so. After experiencing my first speech contest, I joined every year until I graduated. Those years, I gave my speeches to at least 100 students through out ----s during finals. I placed in finals and earned trophies I’m proud of. In high school, I placed 1st few times.
I can say I broke my hard shell and have confidence in myself. One last thing I need to do now is, learn to do this for English 111. I’ll do what it takes to break my shyness once again. One quote I can refer to myself is, “Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon’em,” by William Shakespeare. Practicing is all it takes. I did it once, I can do it twice.
*****Removed places and changed names*****

Remember the Time?

Rewinding to the time,

where you first became awake,

describing how it made you feel,

wondering why you remember?

How vivid it was to see,

there was action to be a memory too.

A drug used in parents

the smell is known at the age of 2.

The violence what a drug can do

to the ones who you love

are known to once been in jail.

Calling 911 was introduced at the age of 5,

few to dial... fail to turn in one.

Knowing the drink will dissolve who you love

seeing the sluring mouth,

how the breath smells.

Never once tried, yet curious to try?

Why people do take the monsterous drink?

Few more, man become dizzy

and more to just let the mind free.

Bottle empty, time to hide in the room.

How memorable it could be,

sometimes at the end...

the bottle just kills a man, maybe

a person you once knew.

How dreadful a drug can do,

but at the end, what's life's point-a-view?

.

No Emotions

I can't really understand why men are the way they are. I know men wonder the same about girls. Why do lil' things matter? Why can't men show their emotions? Why do they shove away emotional people? I'm finally figuring why they do it. I thought it was very interesting.
This semester, I'm taking psychology course. I had no idea psychology is all about science in order to understand and figure out why we think and act as we do. My classmates and I in the beginning were silent to disguss about the modules we were assigned to read. I thought the class was boring. Until we contributed to talk during the hour. My instructor became at ease.
One module was talking about culture norms, gender typing, etc. I learned men are naturally aggressive physically. It's in their genes. I wondered if they aren't so emotional because of aggression. I was wrong.
I learned that parents and peers shape what is expected from a boy and a girl. One example was asked by our intructor: How would two parents react when their son trips and falls? Do they tell him he's a big boy and big boys don't cry? How about to girls? Would they have the same reaction to their girl? Yes, parents would tell their son not to cry and 'man up'. This tells them, crying isn't for boys. It does block their emotions.
Even boys in school teases a boy who is more emotional, taunting that he's a cry baby. Where do these kids learn from this gender typing? When I was in preschool, I hated going to school because I was always teased I was a cry baby. I was told by boys who were one grade up from me. I was surprised other girls in my class never cried at all, even they were bothered by older boys. In villages, I see a lot of children who never made a sob even they fall hard on the head.
I think it's sad most boys are taught not to have feelings and taught it's bad to express them to other people. I also started reading this book, Raising Clain, which is also assigned to read for psychology class. I recommend it to all men! This will make them understand, yet hard for them to read. Also to mothers who are raising their son or sons.
I also didn't know men who were taught not to be emotional as young boys, will more likely be lonely men and with depression. SCARY.
We can always make a change, but it doesn't always mean it'll be easy.