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This symbol represents honesty. I consider myself to be an honest person because I am transparent, I understand the value of a promise and don't take them lightly, and I realize that honest communication is the best way to build a relationship with someone.

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This symbol represents Determination. I consider myself to be determined because once my mind is set on something, I work hard to reach the goal and will not stop until the goal is met.

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This symbol represents loyalty. I consider myself to be a loyal person because I am devoted to my family, friends, students, community, and school.

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I’m from Ireland, with a little Stonewall in there somewhere!

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I’m Lauren from family, friends, and mom, Lauren Ashleigh when I’m in trouble, sissy from my sister, baby girl from Dad, L-Dav from friends, Honey from my grandpa, cutie pie from grandma, my girl from papaw, and my love from mamaw.

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I’m from Mama and Daddy, Grandma and Papa, Mamaw and Papaw, my great grandparents Memaw and Papa, Granny and Pops, my younger sister, Regan, aunt Amanda and uncle Shane, and their two boys, Hunter and Zach.

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I’m from Stonewall, LA- the town with one stop light, a gas station, a post office, and a Dollar General, where the necessities can be found to avoid a trip to town, a brick house with woods behind our house that my dad bush hogged trails through so that us kids could ride our four-wheelers and dirt bikes through the woods to each other’s houses and find all of the mud holes to play in when it rained, a town that shut down on Friday nights to watch the hometown griffins play under the stadium lights, a neighborhood where kids roamed around barefoot, sold fresh lemonade for 25 cents, and the old folks greeted them outside with frozen popsicles on a hot summer day.

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I’m from a competitive game, or ten of uno at mamaw’s large kitchen table, the whole collection of care bears next to me in my twin bed, barbie dolls, of course with all of the accessories, American-Girl baby dolls, all of which had strollers and too many clothes, and even a missing arm from being carried around so much, power wheels barbie jeeps, which were sure to find the mud puddles, mongoose bikes, which always came with scraped up hands, knees and elbows, and friends riding on the pegs, Mr. Potato head, that never made it back into the box with all of the pieces, cabbage patch kids, that always smelled so good, easy bake oven, cozy coupe cars, that were sure to have been written on by toddlers and passed down from generation to generation, play-dough, that was sure to be stuck in the carpet, build-a-bear, that always made me smile when I pushed the button and could hear my mom and dad’s voice, happy meal toys, that never disappointed on an afternoon that my grandmother picked me up from school,a game of monopoly that was sure to last all night, gym scooters that were sure to smash a few fingers, The Bee Movie, that my sister and I played over and over, plaid shorts, that cut off just above the knee, Miss Me jeans with rhinestones, bobs and toms, converse, of every color, slicked back pony tails with a headband that wrapped around, laced tank tops, one on top of the other, bedazzled shirts and dresses from Justice, colored Polo shirts, big bows, and shirts that fit too tight from abercrombie and aeropostale.

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I am Lauren Ashleigh Davlin

I’m from fried chicken from Southern Classic, only the one in Mansfield, on the way home from an afternoon at the deer lease with daddy, a sausage biscuit and apple juice from kickapoo corner, the gas station in town, on an early Saturday morning, a dozen donut holes and a chocolate milk from The Donut Shop on a Sunday morning before church, red beans and rice in a crockpot with a side of sweet and buttery melt in your mouth cornbread on a cool fall or winter night, Mamaw’s mexican cornbread in a cast iron skillet any time there is a family gathering, Mamaw’s “famous” grilled cheese sandwiches anytime the grandkids had a sleepover at her house, Grandma’s delicious deviled eggs, green bean casserole, honey-baked ham, and pumpkin pie, with cool-whip of course, for holiday gatherings, and papa’s homemade birthday cake for mine or grandma’s birthday, a boiling pot of crawfish, with ice cream for dessert on Easter, fried fish with ketchup the Sunday evening after the men went fishing, and fried backstrap with mashed potatoes until the deer meat in the freezer ran out.