This narrative tells the story of Brandon, a boy with a physical disability, and his experiences with feeling different and treated differently by his classmates. It describes an incident in class where a comment is made that makes Brandon feel like he is "half a person" because of his disability. He feels angry, upset, and unsure if he can trust his classmates after this. The narrative explores Brandon's ongoing struggles with how others perceive and treat him due to his disability.

1. Narrative Writing Examples

2. Brandon’s Narrative

3. It was a light filled afternoon; the light’s
reflection from the window blinded my
eyes, so I squinted one of my eyes just
to see the teacher artistically write on
the white board with a red marker.
“What number of people live in the
U.S.A.?” the teacher asked us to
answer. Hands went flying in the air
waving back and forth like a swing
trying to get her attention.

4. “The answer is about two billion people living
in the U.S.A,” the teacher said while going
to get her math book to check our
homework. Then Tyler, a blonde headed kid
who was short, raised his hand. He was one
of one of the class clowns in the eighth
grade, and he smiled like he was going to
tell a hilarious joke and said, “What about
the people with nubs and hands that don’t
work or people in wheelchairs, do they
count as half?” All of the student’s laughter
echoed in the classroom, bouncing around
my head, laughing at my imperfection.

5. I hid my right arm under the desk. The black phone
rang for me to go to my dentist appointment, and
as the kid beside of me was waiting to high five
me goodbye, I looked disgusted to him and said,
“Why should I high five you? You all think I’m half
of a person!” All of my classmates looked guilty and
looked at the floor ashamed, and feeling angry and
upset, I slammed the door so hard that it almost
echoed down the locker filled halls. The next day all
the classmates said they’re sorry about the other
day, and one of them said that they didn’t mean
that and they love me, but I don’t know if I should
believe him or not because I’ve been treated
differently around other people as long as I can
remember.

6. I already had known they treat me different
because when I’m talking to anyone they
don’t make eye contact with me; instead
they focus on my hand, trying to figure out
how am I speaking their language so
commonly as water flows through a river
with a broken arm like mine. Am I just a
handicapped toy buried at the cold, dark
bottom by new perfect ones that don’t make
mistakes? My nonstop journey is trying to
break through the top being somebody that
can make a difference in the world, but alas
they smack me down, and while I was
falling off the endless mountain of toys, I
asked myself, will this ever end?

7. In the bed, where I do most of my
thinking, I lay there motionless,
pondering and let all of my thoughts
take over my mind. “Why am I like
this?” “What’s my purpose in life?” and
“Why does everyone treat me like a
handicapped person?” “I’m human too,
why me, why?” These thoughts and
more have haunted my mind, never
leaving my brain. I am a prisoner
inside of my own mind.

8. Karisa’s Narrative

9. I remember when I first saw her. She was holding the hand of
her mother. She was putting one foot in front of the other, and
then she made a little hop. Right foot in front and hop. Left
foot in front and hop. I suppose it was skipping. She was
rambling a sort of melody. Her mouth was pouring out words
like a faucet would water. Her mother was being dragged
along with her all the way to the door. My brother Nick and I
sat there mesmerized; our eyes were glued onto her as if she
were some magical creature we had never seen before. Nick
stretched his arms out as far as they would go and groaned.
He blinked his eyes. Then he rubbed the sand that had
cemented his eyes together that night while he was sleeping.
I wiped the salty droplets from my eyes while my mom
unbuckled me slowly. Her eyes were red and puffy. She didn’t
hide the drenched tissue in her pocket very well.

10. The day before, I had a visit with my dad.
The experience was so odd. Tiny boxes
on every corner of the walls. And these
one eyed goggles seemed to poke out of
the tiny boxes to spy on our every move.
That day spent with him had at first
seemed better than any amount of
chocolate. But that moment was soon
crushed with the reality of reason. My dad
was going away for a very long time.

11. I snapped back into the world. Tears came
rushing out as if clouds had taken the
place of my eyes. My mom didn’t notice.
She wasn’t all there I guess. Nick was
waiting with the teacher. My mom and I
battled to get me inside. She opened the
door to Child Time, and I cried like a baby,
as if it were the end of the world. The
teacher grabbed me. While she was
holding me still, I watched as my mom
walked, got in the car, and drove away.

12. That day I sat there alone at a table for what
seemed like forever thinking about if my dad
would ever be back. In the middle of thinking,
the magical creature I had seen skipping that
morning walked up to me. She just stood there
and smiled. I forced a smile back. She had seen
right through it. Her facial expression changed
and was then replaced with a pitiful puppy dog
look, a look of concern perhaps. She seemed to
shake it off fast though, and asked me my name.
“Karisa,” I whispered softly.
She repeated it twice, nodded her head.
Then she said, “My name’s Jasmine, Jasmine
Lajara.”

13. My eyes stayed in her direction for the
longest time. I admired the bright light that
shone from her mouth, the peachy glow
that her cheeks made, and the large
gleaming stars that stared back into my
soul. She twirled around like a ballerina
and darted off like one would in a race
with challenging opponents; She came
back just as fast as she had gone. She
was holding markers in one hand and
paper in the other.
“You wanna color?” She asked gently

14. She had placed the paper in my hand before I
could even reply and sat right beside me. She
placed the markers between us and began to
draw. She made this weird tune come out of her
mouth, yet she didn’t actually open her mouth. I
looked at her with my eyes wide and my ears
open, listening to her. I tried the tune out myself
but the feeling made me jump. I swallowed the
horrible sound I had produced back inside me. I
looked at my paper. I had no clue what to draw. I
watched as Jasmine used all the markers. She
seemed busy.
She suddenly threw down her marker, and
screamed “WA-La!”
I just glared at her with one eyebrow pointing up.
“I’m done,” she proclaimed proudly.
I smiled, but this time I smiled a real smile.

15. “Close your eyes”
I closed them but then tried to open them just enough to
catch a glimpse.
“Hey, no peeking!”
I then shut my eyes tightly, bringing darkness to them.
“Open’ em”
The light came in. What she was holding soon came into
focus. She had held up a picture to show me. I stared at
it and smiled. It had two stick girls and a heart in the
middle with the letters BFFs on the side. The B was
backwards though. She grabbed me and wrapped her
arms around me tightly, and whispered.
“You’re my best friend.”