Small Town Life vs. City Life Essay Sample - Bla Bla …
Lesson two: you know everyone in town and everyone knows you. For me personally, this gave me a sense of accountability. I felt this way because you never know who is watching you. Growing up, if you caused trouble, word got back to your parents before you did. I personally enjoy going to a small high school. The class sizes are small so the relationship between students and teachers is strong. To a small town, football season is the highlight of the year. From wearing a boy’s jersey down the hall, to cheering your heart out at the game Friday night, football season is what people of all ages look forward to. A group of friends in a small town are inseparable from one another. They know when something is wrong with one another and if you pick a fight with one; you get them all.
Life in Small Town vs Life in a City Essay ..
Living in a small town can limit the perspective of one’s mind, leaving one to believe that hardly anything exists beyond the borders of one’s town. Old Saybrook is a town that I love; filled with beaches and restaurants, a quaint Main Street and green parks, it is quintessential Smalltown, New England. But in addition to its charm, growing up in Saybrook has had its challenges. Now, I’m not talking inner-city slum challenges, but as challenging as growing up in upper middle class suburbia can get. A lack of cultural experience and awareness seems to permeate my town of Old Saybrook, leaving the kids of this small town with little knowledge of what the world truly has to offer.
Lesson one: crime and safety. Crime plays a major roll in many communities. This is where the small towns often offer more security verses a large city. I remember growing up on a small farm in the country; I would not have changed it for the world. The only rules I had were to say off the road and be home by dark. I would spend all day outside exploring and hiking in the woods. The amazing part was that our parents had peace of mind even though we were out on our own. This is why I could not imagine living in a large city. You live side by side with neighbors and the unknown is inevitable. Large city crime can range anywhere from drugs or even a shooting. In a small town however, one of the worst crimes you could do is wear miss matching socks to church.
Small Towns vs. Big Cities Essay Examples - New York essay
Friday night lights, gas station gossip, or kids playing in sprinklers: these are just a few of the everyday happenings in the small town. Large cities and small towns all have their advantages and disadvantages. Many people believe that growing up in a big city is the way to go, but I believe living in a small town offers more chances at learning key life lessons.
We will write a custom essay sample on Small Towns vs
To me it feels
like the olden days in which the whole family spends time together and helps
out one another.
Conversely, there are also negative factors that come with living in a small town.
Growing Up In A Small Town « Keri | This I Believe
While Saybrook gets quite boring in the dead of winter, growing up in what I thought was a “small” town has given me the perfect launch pad to make my life whatever I want it to be. My experiences in Europe and Costa Rica have given my life purpose and focus. I study hard in French and now take Spanish as well to build a foundation of knowledge that I hope will grow during and after college. I’ve made amazing international connections and friendships that I know I will keep for my whole life. These friendships have changed my perspective of humans and cultural differences as a whole. My interest in travel and foreign cultures has grown from a desire to an obsession to a virtual need for new experiences and relationships. I hope to fulfill this need in college and my career after, traveling and meeting new people and working to build a better world. But now, as I mature, I know that I will not forget the small shoreline town that I dreamed of leaving, knowing that one day, I will dream of returning.
I remember growing up on a small farm ..
Rabalais gestured across the lock toward what seemed to be a pair of placid lakes separated by a trapezoidal earth dam a hundred feet high. It weighed five million tons, and it had stopped Old River. It had cut Old River in two. The severed ends were sitting there filling up with weeds. Where the Atchafalaya had entrapped the Mississippi, bigmouth bass were now in charge. The navigation lock had been dug beside this monument. The big dam, like the lock, was fitted into the mainline levee of the Mississippi. In Rabalais’s pickup, we drove on the top of the dam, and drifted as wed through Old River country. On this day, he said, the water on the Mississippi side was eighteen feet above sea level, while the water on the Atchafalaya side was five feet above sea level. Cattle were grazing on the slopes of the levees, and white horses with white colts, in deep-green grass. Behind the levees, the fields were flat and reached to rows of distant trees. Very early in the morning, a low fog had covered the fields. The sun, just above the horizon, was large and ruddy in the mist, rising slowly, like a hot-air baboon. This was a countryside of corn and soybeans, of grain-fed-catfish ponds, of feed stores and Kingdom Halls in crossroad towns. There were small neat cemeteries with ranks of white sarcophagi raised a foot or two aboveground, notwithstanding the protection of the levees. There were tarpapered cabins on concrete pylons, and low brick houses under planted pines. Pickups under the pines. If this was a form of battlefield, it was not unlike a great many battlefields—landscapes so quiet they belie their story. Most battlefields, though, are places where something happened once. Here it would happen indefinitely.