Running head: ASSIGNMENT ASSIGNMENT 3 Assignment Abdullah Alnasser First Bicycle Ride This was suicide. I could not wrap it all around my head why I was the only one seeing this. Every other person was laughing or had a smirk or a grin on their face. What was so amusing about watching someone rolling down to their death and cheering them on the way? I could not find a word to describe them. Evil alone does not even begin to cut it but it would do for now. Every one of them was evil; even my father who had just shown up for the first time to this torturous exercises. Tears had just started to well up my eyes when I stormed off. No one bothered to stop me this time. I think the first few times they had tried taught them a life lesson on the same. Do not mess with an angry six year old boy. He will bite. He will bite hard. Looking back when I was six year old and a few years later, I cannot comprehend how I used to throw such tantrums and where I got the strength to do it from. I suppose that explains why I hardly show any emotion now. I have already used up my share during my younger years. On closer evaluation, I could justify why I used to throw such fits at that age. My big brothers were full time bullies. They closely followed each other in age hence they more or less resembled each other; both physically and character wise. When they bullied, they bullied together and they did it good. Actually, I do not remember them being good at anything else but. Consequently, they got into a lot of trouble in school. The worst part is nobody seemed to care about this issue. My father actually smirked every time such a report came through from school and even though he and mom reprimanded them, even a toddler like me could see the reprimand was half-hearted. This encouraged the brothers to perfect their skill even more. Guess who was the ‘bully dummy’? As if I expected any less, my parents seem to have no issue. They said that it was good that I was hardening up. I remember asking myself what does hardening up even mean. This question I would ask for quite some time The learn how to ride a bicycle idea surprisingly came from me. I figured that if I were going to be roughed up, the least I could do is benefit from it. When the semantics of the whole process of riding a bicycle was explained in theory, it looked like an easy piece of work. I only had to sit down on the bicycle once to figure that out. For starters, I expected that I would be taught by a small bicycle just for my size. The ‘no new bicycle’ warning was slammed on my face upon request by my father. The excuse is that it would be beneficial to learn the normal bicycle so that I can help bicycle chores as soon as possible. Next I thought that some new wheels would be installed on the sides for additional balance. This request ...

1. Running head: ASSIGNMENT
ASSIGNMENT
3
Assignment
Abdullah Alnasser
First Bicycle Ride
This was suicide. I could not wrap it all around my head
why I was the only one seeing this. Every other person was
laughing or had a smirk or a grin on their face. What was so
amusing about watching someone rolling down to their death
and cheering them on the way? I could not find a word to
describe them. Evil alone does not even begin to cut it but it
would do for now. Every one of them was evil; even my father
who had just shown up for the first time to this torturous
exercises. Tears had just started to well up my eyes when I
stormed off. No one bothered to stop me this time. I think the
first few times they had tried taught them a life lesson on the
same. Do not mess with an angry six year old boy. He will bite.

2. He will bite hard.
Looking back when I was six year old and a few years
later, I cannot comprehend how I used to throw such tantrums
and where I got the strength to do it from. I suppose that
explains why I hardly show any emotion now. I have already
used up my share during my younger years. On closer
evaluation, I could justify why I used to throw such fits at that
age. My big brothers were full time bullies. They closely
followed each other in age hence they more or less resembled
each other; both physically and character wise. When they
bullied, they bullied together and they did it good. Actually, I
do not remember them being good at anything else but.
Consequently, they got into a lot of trouble in school. The worst
part is nobody seemed to care about this issue. My father
actually smirked every time such a report came through from
school and even though he and mom reprimanded them, even a
toddler like me could see the reprimand was half-hearted. This
encouraged the brothers to perfect their skill even more. Guess
who was the ‘bully dummy’? As if I expected any less, my
parents seem to have no issue. They said that it was good that I
was hardening up. I remember asking myself what does
hardening up even mean. This question I would ask for quite
some time
The learn how to ride a bicycle idea surprisingly came
from me. I figured that if I were going to be roughed up, the
least I could do is benefit from it. When the semantics of the
whole process of riding a bicycle was explained in theory, it
looked like an easy piece of work. I only had to sit down on the
bicycle once to figure that out. For starters, I expected that I
would be taught by a small bicycle just for my size. The ‘no
new bicycle’ warning was slammed on my face upon request by
my father. The excuse is that it would be beneficial to learn the
normal bicycle so that I can help bicycle chores as soon as
possible. Next I thought that some new wheels would be
installed on the sides for additional balance. This request I
asked my brother who in response not only declined but swore

3. not to help me balance on the bicycle until I learnt myself. The
bicycle turned out to be a two wheeled vehicle from hell.
According to stories that I was told by my parents at the
time, my big brothers each learnt how to ride the bicycle within
two hours. They learnt when they were three years old and if
those details don’t drive the point home enough, the brothers
learnt riding alone with no outside assistance from parents or
friends. I think I was being this told stories so that they may
intimidate me. A normal kid would have grown up with
acceptance and self-esteem issues but instead I grew up more
determined to do everything differently so that it would make
angry my parents and brothers.
I could no longer tell how long we had been repeating the
same exercise. It all starts with being dragged outside, the
bicycle being pulled up, final pictures taken, someone placing
me on the bicycle and being rolled from the top of the small
hill. Then I would roll until a few meters after which I would
always fall on the same spot. To say the truth, I expected my
brothers to figure out my secret when I fell. Considering their
intellectual capacities at the time, the eventuality of this
happening was very rare.
My secret was that I already knew how to ride a bicycle.
After burying my face in shame for so long, I decided to throw
in the towel and teach myself the known art. Any personal
chances I got to be all alone in the house I used for teaching
myself. After a few personal sessions I finally mastered the art.
I knew it was nowhere as good as how fast my brothers learnt
that is why I never told them. I was secretly planning on the day
that I would pretend to have learnt within a few minutes during
one of the training sessions and start pulling some complicated
bicycle moves all on the same day. This meant I still had a lot
of practicing to do since bicycle extra signatures are difficult
and hard to learn.
After a few short sessions I was finally ready to come out.
I planned to do this on one weekend where I estimated my both
parents would be present. I had already picked out the realistic

4. bicycle techniques I would be showing off. The looks on their
faces that I imagined were worth the weight. I had even
prepared a list of sarcastic insults for my brothers. The day was
working out as planned. My father and mother were both free.
My brothers were glancing around preparing to pounce on me to
drag me outside. If they knew today I would be all too willing.
However, I had to make sure that they suspect nothing. My
fantasy had just started to roll its course when suddenly it
started raining furiously.
I remember being overwhelmed with all the wrong
emotions. I remember my parents being confused as they did not
know why I was getting angry because of missing a bicycle
practice session. The session was never to come. The next day
the family woke up to find me riding my bicycle peacefully
outside without any audience. I had decided then some battles
are not worth fighting and this one was one of them.
Running head: PERSONAL NARRATIVE
PERSONAL NARRATIVE
2
Personal Narrative
Abdullah Alsbay

5. Young Ethics
I was sweating profusely. I half-expected the floor beneath
me to be fully wet. Once the realization hit me I glanced down
quickly to make sure it was not so. I did not want more
attention from people thinking I had wet myself in an exam
room. Now all eyes were on me. “Good work on keeping it
down Jack”, I thought. I started scribbling busily making as
loud a sound a pen can make as I wrote. If only they knew what
I was writing. I had not even read one question without it
dimming out. I needed to get it together. However, every time I
tried my mind just went blank. It occurred to me that I had
never really understood the meaning of a panic attack. At that
moment I could give an hour’s lecture on the subject using a
recorded video of me as a perfect sample. This idea played in
my mind for a while that I found myself wishing that the exam
paper be about panic attacks and not mathematics. I was not
afraid of many things or so I was told. I wondered how a few
questions could do what many others have tried and failed. I
admit even today, mathematics was my worst nightmare.
I am the last born in a family of three siblings. We are all
sons. As fate would have it my elder brothers were the geniuses
of the family. Their passions were in different fields. My eldest
brother Jason was working as a pilot in an airline in West
Africa. John my elder brother was a student in Waterloo
University doing Actuarial Science. However, one thing they
had in common, they were both exceptional in mathematics.
Their trophies in school and at home were a daily reminder of
that fact. Then there I was, struggling with high school
mathematics. If I weren’t a member of our family or at least I
were in a different school from my brothers, I probably would
have been comfortable with my mathematics weakness.
Admittedly, the subject was not one of the most popular and
easiest subjects in school. However, since everyone knew who I

6. was including the teachers, my failure was greatly magnified.
The nature of my misunderstanding with the subject I
cannot pinpoint even to this day. My parents actually showed
me their high school and college papers to rub it in on this fact.
The look of disappointment though unintentional was becoming
unbearable. My peers weren’t any better. I was a legend in
football in high school attracting many critics who took
advantage of any weakness I had on every opportunity. With
their help my mathematics records were made public. For some
time, any mathematical joke made in the school had to include
my name. It actually became a sort of a cliché. The pressure
from many sides was becoming exhausting and naturally I had
to come up with ways to tackle the issue.
The problems I was facing could easily have solved by a
simple task. Pass my mathematics final exams. I had tried
conventional means like looking for a study partner. This was a
daunting task since I had no mathematics geeks as friends.
Football players and geeks did not walk in the same circles to
say the least. Convincing one to be my friend was going to be
hard enough without having to bear the added embarrassment
and insults that will result thereof. I could not ask my parents or
brothers to help because it would also be embarrassing and even
if I were to skip the embarrassment huddle they were too busy
with their ‘genius’ lives to spare time to teach high school
mathematics. Self-teaching was also not working therefore only
one option remained plausible at the time. Unconventional
means.
The plan was clearly set. Everything was supposed to go
smoothly. I had already thought of all the angles and their
possible outcomes. I might not have been a professional in
mathematics but planning, management and argumentation. This
was my terrain. This I was good at. I wished at the time that
people know that about me. I was also considerably good at
sciences especially in using optical instruments. Before the
exam date, I found myself analyzing the classroom and where
my classmates always sit especially during mathematics lessons.

7. Prior the exam, I set periscopes around the class strategically
that it would reflect the work of one of the mathematics geeks
to a mirror below my desk. I was proud of my work. This self-
applause was not meant to last long since no sooner had I
entered the exam room than my panic attack started. I had
barely been able to write my name correctly let alone to
concentrate on the work on my mirror. Suddenly, the idea which
a while ago did not have any possibility of going wrong could
do nothing but go wrong in an uncountable number of ways.
Logic kicked in halfway through the exam. By this time, I
had already smashed the mirror near my feet to pieces in an act
of fury. I had come to terms with the situation and decided that
there is no way it could get any worse so the least I could do is
to give the questions half a shot. It is amazing that with nothing
to lose, the questions did not look so frightening any more. I
was convinced of getting a low grade so I just worked to get at
least a better low grade. This effort seem fruitless because I had
not bothered to revise for the exam since I was overconfident
my ‘mirror’ plan would work. It would have worked were it not
for my foolish panic attack. Something else dawned on me. Now
that I did not have anything to hide, I did not feel any pit in my
stomach. I was finally breathing normally and casually. It was
at that moment that I knew that despite the results, this is the
way I would be tackling this and other exam situations.
Obviously, I would add a bit more reading and revision but with
no cheating and high expectations.
When the results came out, I had passed. This came to
everyone’s surprise except mine. Somehow I felt I would have
been at ease despite the nature of results since I knew I did my
best. The fact that I did my best is what mattered and still
matters. I am one of the best students in mathematics in our
class today but am still at ease.