Personal Hero Narrative - Mrs. McClintick's English …

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My Dad, My Hero Essay - 920 Words

When I think of the word hero, I think of the countless Spiderman figures lying at the bottom of my brother’s toy chest, or even Prince Charming rescuing Sleeping Beauty from her seemingly endless slumber. However, what usually does not come to mind, are the true real life heroes that I believe posses higher superpowers than the Incredibles ever could. Though they do not have the ability to fly or read minds, one way or another, these people have helped someone in a tough situation. A true hero can be anyone from the firefighters at the station to your older sister living in the room next door. They may have helped to save your life, or merely helped you get through your math homework last night. Whatever the case, one quality that all true heroes must possess is the ability to be an example of goodwill in the world. A hero will help someone because they want to, not because they have to. Though they are not perfect, no one is, a hero will continue to put others first when they know that it is most important to do so.

Matt Rybeck 9-25-10 1st Period HERO ESSAY A hero to me is someone who you look up …

Heroes' Handbook | Heroes' Narrative


He is intelligent, resourceful, and willing to bend the rules.
Body

One
SEXC paragraph
for each of the main points you have.

SEXC
stands for the order that you write down your ideas in a body paragraph for an essay.
First, you make a
S
TATEMENT (your answer to the question).
Then you
E
XPLAIN your statement in more detail (try to convince us your answer is sensible)
Then you give an E
X
AMPLE to prove your statement (show us that your answer came from something
you read or saw in the text)
Finally, you make a
C
OMMENT
to sum up your own opinion
on this topic
Example:

Batman is the most intelligent super-hero.

Writing your Personal Hero Narrative You have read four examples of other people’s hero narratives

When I gazed into the eyes of my grandfather and hero, I had no idea that those familiar blue eyes no longer knew who I was. I knew he was stumbling in life and that for the first time in over fifty years, he was separated from my grandmother and placed into an assisted living community. My hero was falling, but to what extent I failed to grasp until that first and most difficult visit. No one in the family knew my grandfather suffered from Alzheimer’s until the disease had already run rampant throughout his strong mind, much to the comparison of Henrietta’s cancer which claimed her body. It turned his memories against him, seemingly repositioning his axons and changing the Vietnam hero and sheriff into a man who knew not even himself. With each visit he seemed to only split further, confused at the simplest of tasks and often forgetting his identity, leaving the family to mourn the loss of a man so great. Though he was with us for over six more months before being called into Heaven, that which distinguished him as family was stripped away within weeks. There was no longer the soft hum of the harmonica when I entered my grandmother’s house, and there was no longer the depression in the couch cushion where my grandfather relaxed with the newspaper while enjoying television. When the time came that he was taken into Heaven, my family mourned greatly. Each of us shared our memories with one another to celebrate his life, and watched as he was laid to rest among his former comrades from war. With the Veteran’s salute and rifle fire, he vanished from our eyes and into a much more welcoming place, away from the troubles of this world as my family has always believed.