Student Exchange Programs

Due soon. Is it interesting? Draw you in? What do you like, what dont you like? Not looking for editing, just curious b/c I dont have time to reflect on it before it’s due. Let me know, I can take a little criticism
From the time that I was born until I was about 3 years old, my mother worked and my father took great care of me at home. My father, Stephen, allowed me to roam the house doing what I pleased, protecting me from dangers and cleaning up my messes. When I became able to walk, I would get up and walk out the door and like a dog on his own, check out all the common places Stephen took me, one of those places often being the bar. Sometimes I’d take us to the local park, Wilcox. There was never much holding me back; I went where I pleased with my loving father following me every step of the way. Around my third year of life, my parents split up and the mental state of my mother rapidly deteriorated. She became depressed and barely able to do much other than keep her job and put food in front of my face. With my father never around, and my mother not there for me mentally, I took care of myself. My adventurousness prevailed and I started making friends in the neighborhood. A social being I was and have always been. Independence has always been my middle name. For a long time I thought that I was able to do anything on my own.
At the age of 15, I was attending high school at Central High, in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The atmosphere was never conducive to learning, and so on my own accord I stop attending and took it upon myself to learn and become a positive part of society. I’d frequent the local coffee shop and speak with college students about what they were interested in, and became aware of a way of life I had never experienced before. I learned about spirituality, philosophy, gardening, art and music, listened to stories about traveling the country and became enthralled in all sorts of new ideas. The people I met inspired me to be something I never knew existed.
Eventually my home studies lead to me find opportunities that would allow me to spend my time working in exchange for knowledge. I searched the internet looking for volunteer opportunities that would allow me to learn as much as possible. Eventually I landed on an Educational Farm in the middle of nowhere Colorado. By “educational farm” they mean a working farm in which they practice unconventional techniques of building and growing, and teach these techniques in exchange for work and dedication. I told my mother what I was going to do, I packed my bag, and with 50 dollars in my pocket and my dog by my side I caught a ride to Colorado with some friends headed to so-cal. Going down interstate 25, the last exit before you take the Raton pass into New Mexico takes you to Trinidad, Colorado. It was a stop on the Santa Fe Trail and is considered to possess a truly “western feel.” Twenty miles west of Trinidad we drove off the pavement and onto the freshly grated dirt road which winded through Wet Canyon alongside a spring fed mountain river. The elevation was 8500ft above sea level. We passed fertile land fed by the cold water coming down from the mountains, possibly melted ice from the warm May weather. Cows, goats and chickens grazed along this fertile strip of land, a perfect home compared to the dry rocks above. On our drive into the canyon we were also blessed to see almost a dozen spooked elk running back up into the trees and the rocks. Being a Michigan native, this was an amazing first day in the mountains.
I spent most of the summer on the farm, helping them to put in their gardens, build a cob chicken house, and laid the irrigation for their first real house. The owners of the farm were Joni and Carter and they were a married couple living in a home that must have been 10 x 20ft which they built themselves. I camped in a tent, and sometimes when it was nice outside, slept in a hammock with my dog underneath of me.
Joni spoke of a tribal gathering happening on the mesa in New Mexico in which anyone was welcome to go to. And after a while I felt that my welcome on the farm was up, and heartbroken I left before it could become worse. I and two other residents on the farm packed up and caught a ride into town, where we waited at the on-ramp of I-25 next to the Trinidad Wal-Mart. The sun went down and we took turns sleeping and waiting. We were three people and three dogs and we were praying that someone would pick us up because were out of money and out of comfort and doing something we had never done before. It’s that childhood adventurousness that caught up with me. I couldn’t help it but be where I was at that moment; it’s where I was supposed to be. Sometimes it feels like I don’t choose to do things, but that fate drags me along and puts me in my place.

The rest of the essay is on xanga http://clydeisadog.xanga.com/
Thank you for your time!!