Cultural Diversity

In Fergus Falls, Minnesota you really don't get very much cultural diversity. Everyone is caucasion and posseses that Minnesotan accent that everyone loves to make fun of. Going to college here at Mankato State has definetly been a good change for me because not only have I seen people from different cultures, but I actually have a professer from Ghana, Africa. Professor Kessey's Intro to the City class has been quite challenging this past month because it is very difficult for me to understand him. He seems to know a lot about urban studies but I feel like this information doesn't get to the majority of the students because we cannot understand his accent. For example, today I tried to ask him a quick question after class and instead of just telling me, he had to take me to his office and open up some notes on the computer so that I could "see" what I was supposed to do. Overall, this was probably the longest conversation that I have actually had with a person from a different culture. I wish I could have met more people from different cultures, but growing up in Fergus Falls didn't allow for me to do this.

Mean Girl

When I was in elementary school, I used to be the brattiest little girl you could ever imagine. I remember one time in first grade that can proove just how mean and insensitive I really was. My class had just gotten done with recess and my teacher Mrs. Hjelman came to escort us all back to class. We got in a single file line and started trudging through the halls. A little boy named Benito who I didn't get along with very well kept stepping on the backs of my heals. I turned around to give him a glare but he wouldn't stop, so I took one extra-long stride and tripped him. He knealed down and started crying on the side of the hall. Mrs. Hjelman came back to see what was the matter and he pointed to me and in a trembling voice said, "She tripped me." I shook my head frantically and said I didn't do it. Mrs. Hjelman believed me so I didn't get in trouble, but I still felt guilty about it for weeks after. Needless to say, I learned a lesson that it's better to put up with things sometimes instead of physically hurting people.

My First Memory

My first memory was the Christmas of 1993. That day stands out for me because this was when my dad dressed up as Santa Claus. He rented an old Santa suit from a store and snuck outside when my little sister and I weren't paying attention. Then, he knocked on the door and my mom told me to open it. I just remember standing there in awe as I looked up at him. Then he boomed out a big "ho ho ho" and lifted me up. Needless to say, this was all a little overwhelming for me, so I started crying and screaming for my mom, while my grandma, grandpa, and uncle were chuckling in the corner.