What It Mean To Be An American

What it means to be an American is a lying to your people telling them everything will be alright when it won't. I sit here and think if our president is an American why is he killing thousands of his own people for the action we caused. This action is know as 9/11. An American kills his people, gets there hopes up, and even kills them. After all we are not the city of angels, but we are the "Angels who spoke heresy." Throughout our history an American will takes what feels that it belongs to them. To kill t he Innocent make the poor even poor, and the rich even richer is that what it means to be an American. I have seen the devil's eye and it is America. Poverty is one huge issue right now and our so called American Government is doing something to balances things out. The country not run by the poor, but by the rich. The rich call the shots around here.To be in American is to put all our slave owners president in our books, bills, quarter, and even in history.
                  In fact to be in American is to keep secrets from your people and lie to them about history and more by saying "what we do for you its what best.". Our president are what they so call themselves our savior a leader to help us before we kill ourselves in fact the more we kill ourselves the less blood is on there hand. They buy shit we don't need, people don't get what they need or want.  I stand here not as an American, but I witness that America and justice they both do not exist. There just words to blind us from the sad truth we must evoke, but only in the shadows of time is when a so called American will kill his own people, and only then we will know they they never existed. No justice, no American and no peace.I stand here and say "I'm the son of no man nor nation" now that is what makes me an American I have my own code of conduct, I can save myself from a salvation. I don't need a leader to make my own laws or so called right we still don't have. You see an American creates laws to stop other law and prevent you from doing anything basically. "the right to bare arms" then a law cancel it. Makes no sense on how an American can makes such rhetorical laws.Anyone can be American, anyone can die for there country, but is there anyone who can stand upon there own two feet and say no more to war, drugs, etc because if so your are the real American hero. I will let you in a little secret in the cold war we despited the russian such as Stalan we help he defeat Adolf Hitler, we help the worst to take out the worst now ask all of you so called Americans, does that make you feel good by the fact we help a man that killed his own people and enslave as well. My thoughts are very clear that no way a American should act. What makes an American an American his/her history if you know it then so be it, but if you don't don't consider yourself an American just maybe your history a lie.

Academic Autobiography

When I was young my supporters were my, older brother (Ervin), Mother, and Stepmother (Marian Serrano). They were the ones that wanted me to succeed in life, and wanted the best of me. I never started kindergarten I was basically put into the first grade because of my age. Simply as a child my eyes did not see the violent world.  The Elementary school I went to was called Los Angeles Elementary school.  In first grade was my easiest year all I did was copy the work and do put myself to the test in knowing if I understood math. As of English was very easy for me I read, wrote, spoke, and even wrote well. I didn’t find English that difficult.  Through 3rd-5t I started having difficulty in math especially when I found out about multiplication and division. My older brother was there to help me get through the multiplication, as my mother was there to teach me division and how to divide. When it came to the final grade which was the 5^th I overcame the fear in not being good at math and succeed in passing it was a C.

       In Pio Pico Middle school which I attended there for about 3 years I wasn’t all that great. The teachers in that were didn’t teach all that well so my mathematic skill went down the drain. When it came to English they assigned me in ELS and I didn’t know what that was until they told me so. The reason why I was put in that class is because, my mother sign a paper stating the language I spoke at home was Spanish which screwed me over badly. I always passed my classes but, never did I pass Algebra with an A within the whole three years I spent in that school. I had no support through junior high because everyone had there own thing to do, and caused my ability keep going. I had ELS for 2 years and 6 months. In the last year in 7^th grade my teacher wanted us out of ELS because she didn’t want us taking it in high school she made the work real easy for us to pass. So when that day came and we need to pass the final test I scored a high score to get me out of that class and into regular English. In the 8^th grade everything went smoothly I then and my only class I once again was algebra 1a and then again I gave up on it and deicide to fail, but English was amazing that very year every blood and sweat I put in was worth is, because that when I found out I was learning philosophy and it made me who I am today.  When time to graduate I missed out on walking on stage, because I missed out on school on that day. I felt good because I came across a difficult road and took matter to my own hand and made it through three years without any support but, my philosophy teacher and her name was Mrs. Ingram which I shall never forget.

               I now attended West Adams prep high school home of the Panthers and wannabe gangbangers. From Grades 9^th-10^th was pretty good. My English skills were pretty outstanding. My mathematic skills weren’t that so great like always but, I always did my best. I normally always got a D in Ms. T class no matter if I did my work or pass the test always got a D which pissed me out to the point in where I gave up. English was very easy I understood the teacher her name was Mrs. Pettus a name I shall not forget because our mind works the same. Her class was simple do your work understanding the story, meaning, and present your thoughts and so on. She opened my mind to a new level of Philosophy. In the 10^th grade 4 semester of her class I then lagged it on my work presentation and end up with a D the first D I ever got in English. In the 10^th grade I finally passed my algebra and went on to geometry which was a bit difficult but a great friend pulled me through. His name was Javier Carcamo. I’m here now in my junior year and I expect the unexpected for what might happen in my Academic skill.