CAN SOMEONE CORRECT THIS PLEASE?

Name
My name is Marc . I am a girl, just in case you were wondering. I had many people come up to me asking questions like “Isn’t that a boy’s name?” or “Is it just Marc or is there something else to it?” When I was little, I used to hate my name because many people made fun of me. But to this day, I love my name because it’s not the same as other girls. It’s different and it’s a great conversation starter. Sometimes, boys in my class have the same name. It’s annoying, I won’t lie, but nevertheless I think it’s cool. Sort of. Names don’t define who you are, but if you want to be respected, you should build a reputation for that name. I try to live up to my name, so that when others hear the name ‘Marc,’ they will have a good impression.


The Big game!!!
It was the last minute of the quarter, and I was out of breathe. Sweat rolling down my face while yelling out to my teammates the play that we are going to set up. "Butter," I shouted. We moved as fast as we could. This was our last game and we wanted to beat the team that shattered us for so many years. I was running away from my defender and then one of my teammates passed me the ball. I looked around and without hesitation on the three point line, I shot the ball in the air. All of a sudden, there was a silence in the room. This was it. Our final chance to beat Eastern Middle School and show them that we are better than them. "Swish" was all I heard and the crowd went crazy! My teammates were jumping with joy and everyone one was surrounding us. I was shocked myself. This was my first attempt to shoot a three pointer and I made it. It was the greatest feeling in the world. Although my mother wasn't there to see it, she was there in spirit. I felt great.

Skin tone
Everyone in this world has a different skin tone. Some people are white, caramel, mixed, dark, the can go on, but to put it into categories is : light skinned, dark skinned , and white. My mother and I are dark skinned. My brother and stepdad are "brown". When I was a kid, I didn’t really pay attention to my skin color. Lately ,it seems as if that is the only thing that is on my mind. At time I feel like questioning God by asking "Why can’t I be lighter?" , but then I answer my own question because he always takes me back to Genesis, that he created us all in his own image and we are all beautiful in our own way. As a teen, I should be having fun and not worrying about all that nonsense about "If you are dark skinned then you are not pretty but if you have a lighter skin tone than you are pretty." If the world only had one type of skin tone, there would be no such thing as slavery, discrimination, and stereotypes. But we do live in a world with different skin tone so I think everyone should accept their skin color and not worry about it.

My Grandma
Our family is originally from Haiti but we moved to America for a better life. This was because of my courageous and brave grandmother that came to the US to work her butt off to get her five kids to America. It wasn't an easy job but she did it, anyways. My mother has always told me to respect my grandma because if it wasn't for her we would have the opportunities that we have today. I am very grateful for her because not many people get chance to come to America but because of this I have to keep pushing myself to do all that I can to be become the person my grandma had imaged for her grandkids to become. She gave me a chance to become someone great.


Haitian soup
In our culture there is also a soup that is consumed every year on January the 1st. This soup is a symbol of unity and freedom. Sunday, January the 1st of 1804 was the day Haiti got its independence from France. During the time of slavery, haitians weren’t allowed to eat Joumou, a delicious pumpkin. So when they won their independence, they ate all the soup joumou they could have and we still do it to this day.
There are different soups that we, Haitians, make, but on a regular. For example, Bouillon, it is made with sliced meat, potatoes, sliced plantains, yam, dumpling, cabbage, and celery (other ingredient variations exist), and cooked as a mildly thick soup. In simple words, it is delicious. The soup is always served hot and is usually served with a slice of bread with which to dip in. This soup is the amazing and my grandmother makes the best.

Moving Day
I didn’t know how nerve-racking moving would be until I went through the experience. I was born in a pretty big family and we lived in the same house for about 5 years so I really close to them. It wasn’t the biggest house in the world but it was where my family was and I felt home.
Out of nowhere, my mom announced that she was moving. She said that she was old enough to get her own place and that it was getting too crowded. I didn’t even realize that we were moving until my mom started packing the boxes. At first I was excited because I was going to have my own room and space but then I thought about what I leaving behind. Something told me that it was for the better, but at the same time I didn't want to leave. During moving day, I cried because my cousins and I won’t get to gossip as much. I would even miss my grandmother yelling at us for being so messy. When we got to the apartment, I felt somewhat at home because I had my mom and brother. It wasn’t everyone, however it was the two people that I loved.

A Monster Come to Life
My brother was born on September 18th, 2005 and to this I still love him. When he was born, I wasn’t exactly his biggest fan in the world, everyone forgot about me. They only asked about my brother. It was very frustrating but even though I hate to admit it, he was cuter than me then. Nevertheless, the years have changed and he has also. He’s not the cute baby with the adorable laugh but the intimidating monster with an evil smirk on his face. Even through all that, I still learned to love him. Jeffers , my annoying but awesome brother. Many people wished they had a sibling and I was one of the lucky one to end up with him. HAHA! My mother is the luckiest parent alive. Jeffers would get mad at me for saying this but I think that he love me more than he wants to admit.
Advice from an Adult
My mother had continually taught me that in everything I would have to do, always include God. Not many people my age would accept what my mother taught me, but lucky for me, I was raised in a church so I’ve learned that God is number one in everything. As a child, I’ve always enjoyed church, therefore I have heard many testimonies from others in my lifetime. I haven’t gone through much in my life but considering the things, I have experience, because of Him I am still here and not somewhere I wouldn’t like to be.
Another thing, my mother constantly tells me is to be responsible. I have a habit of losing things and so when I need something, I have no idea where it is and it irritates of my mother. I know, I should just put the things where they belong but really when you think about it, it’s a lot. But don’t let my mother hear me say that or she will explode like tiny little rice.