SOLUTION: WR 122 University of Michigan Limited Choices Narrative Essay

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Zhou 1
Zhiwei Zhou
WR 122, CRN: 16411
Ana Zalyubovskiy
Essay 1 Frist Draft Essay
Date: 10/18/2020
Word count: 1684
Limited Choices
When individuals sit down in groups and suddenly pen down how poor people should or
should not behave, how they ought to live, what they should do, and go ahead to critique their
decisions, and makes me wonder if these individuals know what it is to be poor.
I grew up in a single-parent home. My mother had cultivated superpowers because she
was everything to her four children and a stepson. She was the “father,” the breadwinner, the
head of the home, and she was the link that held the family together. My mother never went to
college and only had a high school diploma. She had no definite employment and had to do a
string of low-paying jobs to put food on the table and secure childcare for the five of us. She
often said, “being your mother is my superpower.” Now that I am a mother, and how difficult
being a mom is, it is only my childhood memories that console me so that I do not mop for
myself for too long.
How best can I put this? Moms have to do what moms got to do. I do not remember my
father’s face, and that is because he left when I could barely sit or talk or walk. I cannot
Zhou 2
remember how life was with him in it or the house. However, I was a little grown when my
mother remarried. In the early 1990s, women could not stay without a man in the house since my
brothers were also still young. I suppose men were to be in a home as breadwinners, but this was
different. Having a husband only added a mouth at the table and did not do much for finances.
The truth was, my stepfather had issues with his back, and sometimes he would not work
at all. At the time when he could get up to find work, all he got were low-wages jobs because of
the little education and training that he also had. My stepfather working meant that no one would
stay with the children at home. My mother had to find a suitable daycare because she could not
effort a nanny or a babysitter; it was more complicated. I had started school already; yes, that
helped, but my brothers and sisters had to be sent to individuals less enthusiastic about taking
care of kids. When my stepfather was not home, I would join my siblings in the daycare, and my
kindergarten senses would tingle because the situation there was downright dreadful.
Finally, my mother got a baby sitter who would come for me after school. However, she
would not let me have a proper meal after school. She kept going about fatness and eating too
much food. I was afraid of being fat, and I suddenly started feeling embarrassed to ask for food.
But my stomach growled loudly because I was famished. This is another part of the actual lives
of the working poor. There was not enough money to buy sufficient meals. My mother took extra
shifts and worked longer hours, but I do not remember any time I felt full after a meal. I wanted
more food. When I say my mother had to do what she had to do, I mean times when she decided
to be creative with Spam and bread that was outdated. Therefore, if the babysitter had done her
research, there was no food enough to make me fat, and I never grew fat. However, her words
were hurtful nonetheless.
Zhou 3
In a world of opportunists, another baby sitter was not happy when I had nothing to do,
so she put me to work. I had to help take care of my siblings- all four of them. I remember a kid
carrying a kid; I was pretty bad at it. I almost cried when my brothers cried because I was a kid
taking care of other kids. My youngest sister would cry a, but much, and I would get into trouble.
The babysitter would yell, “make her stop crying for goodness, sakes!” But how could I? I did
not have the slightest clue how.
The babysitter was relieved of her duties, but this was followed by another significant
incident that involved me taking care of my siblings. At the same time, she had got a babysitter
just for that purpose. It went like this:
Hypothetically, I was “on duty,” but Moana, the Disney cartoon movie, was also going
on. As a kindergartner, cartoons made more sense than anything at that time, as anyone would
expect. All of a sudden, my little sister screams, followed by consecutive yells from the
babysitter. My little sister had fallen out of her cradle, and those other children may have been
involved.
“ Why are your eyes glued to the television, and your sister is alone?”
I shrugged and continued watching closely.
“Are you even listening? What is the matter with you? Your sister would have been badly hurt!”
I woke up and ran to the kids’ room and cried myself to sleep. It is now that I realize taking care
of four children at my age was a burden I could not handle, but at that time, I was ashamed of
myself- and I would still be punished.
Zhou 4
My mother came home, and the babysitter told her what happened –her side of the story.
My mother got angry and somehow channeled that anger towards me. My stepfather also heard
this story, and he beat me for that incident. Later on, my mother must have come to her senses
and changed her mind. She must have realized that she is paying a babysitter whose job is to
delegate her duties to the employer’s children. I am confident my mother did not intend for me to
be punished like that, so she found another babysitter.
I reckon quitting had crossed my mother’s mind a few times. But she had no choice but to
keep her job because we needed money. She sometimes had to take two jobs and work for extra
hours for extra pay-just anything. Through her day shifts and her night shifts, she had no time to
be a mother. I remember when I saw her driving off our road one night heading to work when I
was walking home from school. My heart was in shambles, and I am sure hers was breaking as
well.
There was this time I peed my pants when in first grade. My teacher sent me to the office
so I could be sent home. One would think, “you are too old to pee your pants.” But as I sat there
in a leather-coated seat, and in my cold, smelly and wet corduroy trousers in the administrator’s
office, all I thought of was how the principle gave no lectures about how I was too old to do
such.
After a while, the principal explained that my mother could not get off work to pick me.
My stepfather was unreachable, and my father was also working and could not come for me. It
had been years since I saw him anyway. I could not tell how long I had sat in that seat, but my
pants had almost dried when someone came. She was my stepmom’s sister, who I barely knew,
but still appreciated and loved her for saving me from the shameful incident. I was so
Zhou 5
embarrassed and all teary during the journey. She wiped my face gently and told me that I should
not cry because accidents are imminent. She was not aware of my home’s situation.
It was definite that I would be severely punished for the incident, and I am sure you are
wondering why my mother stuck with my stepfather. I can only try putting this the best way I
can; there are few options when one is poor. She tried severally but failed miserably when she
was threatened and blackmailed. She had a cookie jar stored away with some little savings for a
restraining order, but the police did nothing to enforce it. She had no money for a divorce,
considering the babysitter events, working extra time, and two jobs without anyone watching the
children. One individual is better than no one, despite the spanking.
That is how poverty works; from few options to sometimes, none of getting a better life
and out of some situations. It starves your children and puts them in less-ideal daycares. It
severely punishes you and your children as you continue to work. My mother took my siblings to
the daycare when she was en route to work, and I would prepare myself to go to school when in
grade and grade two. I had never been early to school, and this could be seen in my early
education performance. I am sure my mother had had a better thought of how I would begin my
education. She often stressed how education was important but then again, what options did we
have? Poverty got us at every turn, and the viciousness of the cycle was taunting.
My experiences have had a huge role in how I view low-income families, especially
parents. Thankfully, the situation changed due to the same education my mother stressed. I am
currently pursuing my masters with the help of a supportive partner and children. Individuals
have often judged parents that chose to stay home and take care of their children and, instead,
call social services on them. These are the people I want to share my story with, even though I
Zhou 6
am not sure if it would be instrumental in changing their minds. It is only until the quality of
daycares is improved, and operations are pocket friendly. Not everyone could relate to what my
mother went through. Still, before judgments on the poor are passed about how they should run
their parenting, we must put ourselves in their shoes for a minute and evaluate how complicated
issues and solutions can be.
Zhou 1
Zhiwei Zhou
WR 122, CRN: 16411
Ana Zalyubovskiy
Essay 1 Frist Draft Essay
Date: 10/18/2020
Word count: 1684
Limited Choices
When individuals sit down in groups and suddenly pen down how poor people should or
should not behave, how they ought to live, what they should do, and go ahead to critique their
decisions, and makes me wonder if these individuals know what it is to be poor.
I grew up in a single-parent home. My mother had cultivated superpowers because she
was everything to her four children and a stepson. She was the “father,” the breadwinner, the
head of the home, and she was the link that held the family together. My mother never went to
college and only had a high school diploma. She had no definite employment and had to do a
string of low-paying jobs to put food on the table and secure childcare for the five of us. She
often said, “being your mother is my superpower.” Now that I am a mother, and how difficult
being a mom is, it is only my childhood memories that console me so that I do not mop for
myself for too long.
How best can I put this? Moms have to do what moms got to do. I do not remember my
father’s face, and that is because he left when I could barely sit or talk or walk. I cannot
Zhou 2
remember how life was with him in it or the house. However, I was a little grown when my
mother remarried. In the early 1990s, women could not stay without a man in the house since my
brothers were also still young. I suppose men were to be in a home as breadwinners, but this was
different. Having a husband only added a mouth at the table and did not do much for finances.
The truth was, my stepfather had issues with his back, and sometimes he would not work
at all. At the time when he could get up to find work, all he got were low-wages jobs because of
the little education and training that he also had. My stepfather working meant that no one would
stay with the children at home. My mother had to find a suitable daycare because she could not
effort a nanny or a babysitter; it was more complicated. I had started school already; yes, that
helped, but my brothers and sisters had to be sent to individuals less enthusiastic about taking
care of kids. When my stepfather was not home, I would join my siblings in the daycare, and my
kindergarten senses would tingle because the situation there was downright dreadful.
Finally, my mother got a baby sitter who would come for me after school. However, she
would not let me have a proper meal after school. She kept going about fatness and eating too
much food. I was afraid of being fat, and I suddenly started feeling embarrassed to ask for food.
But my stomach growled loudly because I was famished. This is another part of the actual lives
of the working poor. There was not enough money to buy sufficient meals. My mother took extra
shifts and worked longer hours, but I do not remember any time I felt full after a meal. I wanted
more food. When I say my mother had to do what she had to do, I mean times when she decided
to be creative with Spam and bread that was outdated. Therefore, if the babysitter had done her
research, there was no food enough to make me fat, and I never grew fat. However, her words
were hurtful nonetheless.
Zhou 3
In a world of opportunists, another baby sitter was not happy when I had nothing to do,
so she put me to work. I had to help take care of my siblings- all four of them. I remember a kid
carrying a kid; I was pretty bad at it. I almost cried when my brothers cried because I was a kid
taking care of other kids. My youngest sister would cry a, but much, and I would get into trouble.
The babysitter would yell, “make her stop crying for goodness, sakes!” But how could I? I did
not have the slightest clue how.
The babysitter was relieved of her duties, but this was followed by another significant
incident that involved me taking care of my siblings. At the same time, she had got a babysitter
just for that purpose. It went like this:
Hypothetically, I was “on duty,” but Moana, the Disney cartoon movie, was also going
on. As a kindergartner, cartoons made more sense than anything at that time, as anyone would
expect. All of a sudden, my little sister screams, followed by consecutive yells from the
babysitter. My little sister had fallen out of her cradle, and those other children may have been
involved.
“ Why are your eyes glued to the television, and your sister is alone?”
I shrugged and continued watching closely.
“Are you even listening? What is the matter with you? Your sister would have been badly hurt!”
I woke up and ran to the kids’ room and cried myself to sleep. It is now that I realize taking care
of four children at my age was a burden I could not handle, but at that time, I was ashamed of
myself- and I would still be punished.
Zhou 4
My mother came home, and the babysitter told her what happened –her side of the story.
My mother got angry and somehow channeled that anger towards me. My stepfather also heard
this story, and he beat me for that incident. Later on, my mother must have come to her senses
and changed her mind. She must have realized that she is paying a babysitter whose job is to
delegate her duties to the employer’s children. I am confident my mother did not intend for me to
be punished like that, so she found another babysitter.
I reckon quitting had crossed my mother’s mind a few times. But she had no choice but to
keep her job because we needed money. She sometimes had to take two jobs and work for extra
hours for extra pay-just anything. Through her day shifts and her night shifts, she had no time to
be a mother. I remember when I saw her driving off our road one night heading to work when I
was walking home from school. My heart was in shambles, and I am sure hers was breaking as
well.
There was this time I peed my pants when in first grade. My teacher sent me to the office
so I could be sent home. One would think, “you are too old to pee your pants.” But as I sat there
in a leather-coated seat, and in my cold, smelly and wet corduroy trousers in the administrator’s
office, all I thought of was how the principle gave no lectures about how I was too old to do
such.
After a while, the principal explained that my mother could not get off work to pick me.
My stepfather was unreachable, and my father was also working and could not come for me. It
had been years since I saw him anyway. I could not tell how long I had sat in that seat, but my
pants had almost dried when someone came. She was my stepmom’s sister, who I barely knew,
but still appreciated and loved her for saving me from the shameful incident. I was so
Zhou 5
embarrassed and all teary during the journey. She wiped my face gently and told me that I should
not cry because accidents are imminent. She was not aware of my home’s situation.
It was definite that I would be severely punished for the incident, and I am sure you are
wondering why my mother stuck with my stepfather. I can only try putting this the best way I
can; there are few options when one is poor. She tried severally but failed miserably when she
was threatened and blackmailed. She had a cookie jar stored away with some little savings for a
restraining order, but the police did nothing to enforce it. She had no money for a divorce,
considering the babysitter events, working extra time, and two jobs without anyone watching the
children. One individual is better than no one, despite the spanking.
That is how poverty works; from few options to sometimes, none of getting a better life
and out of some situations. It starves your children and puts them in less-ideal daycares. It
severely punishes you and your children as you continue to work. My mother took my siblings to
the daycare when she was en route to work, and I would prepare myself to go to school when in
grade and grade two. I had never been early to school, and this could be seen in my early
education performance. I am sure my mother had had a better thought of how I would begin my
education. She often stressed how education was important but then again, what options did we
have? Poverty got us at every turn, and the viciousness of the cycle was taunting.
My experiences have had a huge role in how I view low-income families, especially
parents. Thankfully, the situation changed due to the same education my mother stressed. I am
currently pursuing my masters with the help of a supportive partner and children. Individuals
have often judged parents that chose to stay home and take care of their children and, instead,
call social services on them. These are the people I want to share my story with, even though I
Zhou 6
am not sure if it would be instrumental in changing their minds. It is only until the quality of
daycares is improved, and operations are pocket friendly. Not everyone could relate to what my
mother went through. Still, before judgments on the poor are passed about how they should run
their parenting, we must put ourselves in their shoes for a minute and evaluate how complicated
issues and solutions can be.

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