|Type of paper:||Essay|
|Categories:||Personal experience Interpersonal communication|
Everest junior school was my second home. Other than the convent shelter, Everest school had been so, for the last six years. As a foster kid, this was the only place I could call home. It was my last hope for greatness and reassurance to new opportunities. In the foster care program and the learning institutions were my only platform to meet new acquaintances. I had met many children with similar situations like mine, but, an exception of them all was Beatrice Rice. A foster child like me, we grew very fond of each other in the many years we stayed together. We colluded in almost every activity in and out of school, especially made inspirations and dreams of the bright future ahead. At the convent shelter, we kept watching of each other's backs on every matter we tackled. Many of our fellows envied to the manner in which we were compatible, considering that we treated each other as sisters despite our lack of any blood relations.
During this semester, things looked up for me. Beatrice and I were our usual self but, I couldn't help to notice the emotional change occurring in my friend-sister. Initially, I was quick to see the difference in her ever contagious smile. It was not natural to have noticed but, it was still not rocket science not to notice the lack of sincerity in her warmth. My inner being started feeling her drift away from me. There was no particular thing I could pinpoint at the moment, but the feeling kept visiting me from time and again. When I was beyond reasonable doubt that all was not well with us, thus I felt the urge to confront her on the issue. She was dumbfounded to my pleas though I was still not convinced.
During our creative development lesson, our lecturer paired us into groups of threes to make innovative discoveries to improved scientific venture of our choice. As usual, Beatrice and I fell in the same group with John Chase, a brutal burry who cared less about his academics or the role of our tutors. I perceive this was the eye-opener moment for me. The project was to run for one week after which the group would make their presentation in class for audit. Our third day on the project was my living hell, both Rice and chase were nowhere for me to find. Whenever we made an appointment to deliberate on our joint venture one had an excuse while the other intentionally failed to attend.
Back at the convent shelter I made efforts to reach out to my sister-friend but received a cold shoulder. By the close of the week, there was only very little of our combined efforts to show. The new-found attitude with my sister-friend worried me stiff than the incomplete assignment made attempts to play. On the intended presentation day, I confronted the duo on the next move to our incomplete transfer; this also did not take gain reception. When I entered the classroom that day something, unusual seemed to be happening. I could not pinpoint why my colleagues were giggling. Shock and disbelieve landed my way when our turn to make our presentation came, Knowing that my peers had nothing to offer I came in with some introductory presentation to keep our ball rolling. I received an overwhelming brush from the teacher since I was out of context. Beatrice and her acquaintance paved in and initiated on their made demonstration. With the inspirational creation, they thrived the class and the tutor, leaving me devastated and betrayed. Beatrice and I had been in mutual understanding on certain aspects. We were classmates for the last six years and sister-friend since childhood. The tutor condemned my uncooperative contribution to the trio and awarded me an inferior grade on the course.
Later that day, feeling withdrawn and betrayed I tried reaching out to Ms. Rice not able to identify her course of action, especially on this final semester that our summed the evaluations for scholarships grades. The coldness she had treated me with in front of the class was the usual treatment I got with rude repercussions. Days passed with regret and worries on my fate now that I fell short of the full scholarship qualifications in the monastery shelter and I had outgrown the foster kid criteria that previously gave me chances to have a roof on my head. Regrettably, my days to leave the nanny home were due, and I had nothing to my name. The contribution of my sister-friend to my misery came to light in new dawn when things were promising and suddenly shuttered. Three and a half months after my departure from the convent shelter, an unusual letter came my way. It was all laid to my eyes all these years that I had not known Beatrice's intentions to ruining my life - a venture she had accomplished successfully.
Hargie, O. Skilled Interpersonal Interaction: Research, Theory, and Practice. London: Routledge, 2011, 166.
Jacquette, D.() Art, Expression, Perception and Intentionality, Journal of Aesthetics and Phenomenology, 2014, 1(1), 63-90.
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