A Day I Was A New Beginning For My Life

It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice

Even though I’ve eaten lobster rolls, sported L.L. Bean jackets, and cruised lighthouse-studded coastlines, I am anything but a New-Englander. Though this has been by 4th year in Massachusetts, I still feel like I’m still the new kid on the block, the midwestern girl who’s naive to the traditions and expectations of New England. But, I am comfortable here, a result of many challenges I had to face over the time I spent in Massachusetts. These challenges did not arise when I first moved out—I was very unhappy the first and second year—it was during Sophomore year, when I started to adapt and be happy, did challenges from home spring forth on me. These challenges were from the people that I had left, family, friends, and others who felt that

I was taught to do a thorough job at everything I do and to greet everyone who entered the house. Since my father was a pastor that meant lots and lots of people. But, as time passed I began to feel as if the United States had a bigger part of me then Zimbabwe. It was where my parents went to work, where our house was and, where my friends were. After my mother completed her masters degree my father went back to Zimbabwe to teach at a College. We continued to live in upstate New York for some time until we moved to small town Iowa. After all the moving around I wasn’t sure where to call home. Lucky for me my mother has a strong sense of home and we return to Zimbabwe every three or four years for vacation. Our most recent trip began on December 2nd, 2015. Only then did I realise where home is. From learning how to polish a floor to moving to Iowa, every piece added to who I am today. Without these things I couldn’t be the Ntando I am today, and I wouldn’t be able to grow to be the Ntando I want to

I had no knowledge of the English language or American culture. I never knew any other culture past my hometown’s. A fish out of water, I struggled as a first grader to learn the language, assimilate into the different culture filled with people with different physical features. I felt

Since coming to America, I have moved to an ample amount of places because my father’s job concerns. I changed school frequently and in each new school I was never greeted with a warm welcome. With one glance my classmates saw I was different from them. I was often bullied and teased because of my racial difference from my classmates, from these experiences I became a quiet and docile girl. This way I thought I would not get in anyone’s way. I had closed up in the world in front of me; I never expressed my own opinions and always agreed with the majority. However secretly inside of me, I was frustrated not being able to express myself and yet I was unable to change. I craved to be what I was in the inside to be on the outside. Still by

When I submitted the lengthy application to the Teton Valley Ranch Camp in Dubois, Wyoming my mind kept sinking back to the fear of flying away to my comfortable close knit home to work at a ranch camp 2,610 miles away. My mom persisted that I should do something different with my summer. After being a camper at the Teton Valley Ranch Camp, I thought it would be nice to contribute some of my time to the place that made me outdoorsy and confident woman. However, I did not want to leave the summer before college started. I wanted to stay in the same routine with my friends who lived on Nantucket Island. I did not want to meet new coworkers, far away from home was daunting. I enjoyed my circle of friends in Nantucket because I was comfortable with my everyday routine. Visions of anxiety swept over my mind; the fear crept over my mind with the years of high school which constrained my personality. The boarding school years trapped me in like a prison with no welcoming smiles. I wanted to return to my happy place in Nantucket with my friends. Despite my fears, I continued to think of the outcome of going to a new place far away, that could be life changing. Life is not about being sheltered and always feeling comfortable, the bumpy rollercoaster is the best way to

As a child I was Boston born but Georgia raised. My mom says I moved to Georgia when I was 2 but since I was 2 I don’t remember. I stayed in Georgia for 8 years and when I was ten my family moved back to Boston because my mother got tired of Georgia. I had never lived in Boston after I was born so when I got here I didn't know anyone besides family or any of the places. My first year here in Boston I lived in-for lack of a better weird-the hood. I was from Georgia the parts where the worse thing that ever happened to me was a school lockdown because they thought fireworks were gunshots. When I came to Boston it was a totally different scenery. I was scared to go everywhere and/or do anything. I lived in Mattapan kinda near Blue Hill Ave. to give you some imagery. The corner store I lived near was more than “a corner” away. But as well it wasn't a mile away either. I was scared mostly because the street I had to walk down to get to the corner store was full of houses blocking the light and wasn't ever that busy.

My mother gave me this book to write in before I left my entire family behind in Chiapas, Mexico. She told me not to be afraid and to write whenever I am feeling upset, anxious, or angry. I haven’t wanted to write this stuff down, but I do not want to say it out loud either. I moved to America last year to stay with my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Brooklyn, New York; I was twelve then and perhaps very naive about what my life would be like in America. I didn’t know any English, but my parents told me that coming to America would help me become smarter. Better even. Unfortunately, America is not what I thought it would be and in recent times, the President is even threatening to make us leave. In Mexico, I felt that I had such an amazing life, where I was able to run around and be free. But here, I am stuck between four walls in a small one bed-room apartment. In the land of opportunity, I feel that I have none.

For years after my relocation across the country, I was neither accustomed to New York life nor did I feel at home. I did not fit in. I blamed the move from Arizona to New York the reason that I could not fit in but, deep down, I knew this was not true. I did not fit in even back in Arizona; I was attached to the place solely because all my childhood

When we were traveling to America we faced many difficulties, but once we made it to our Aunt's house in Virginia we knew it was going to be a great, yet grueling experience. When I first started going to school it seemed as if I was on another planet. Everyone looked different, spoke a strange language, and had a distinct mindset then me; the life of a kid should seem easy because there isn’t anything to worry about, yet worrying about everything was my coping mechanism. When I entered middle school depression and anger hit me like a freight train, so much to the point where I almost committed suicide. Fighting my so called friends for “fun” and not caring about my future was my life for those

In the frantic first grade classroom, I was the girl nervously hiding behind my mom’s skirt. My world fell apart when my parents took me out of our close- knit village in India, to a random city halfway across the world. Everyone promised a better future in America, but all I could think about was everything I left behind and the uncanny feeling that I didn’t belong. I felt as if someone trapped me inside a dark,unknown cave.

My background as an immigrant from Gambia and being half Sierra Leonean; and growing up in Upstate, NY, and Nashville, TN was a struggle for me. Throughout my whole life, I faced an identity crisis. My father never came along with me and my family, when we moved to the U.S. than several years past my mother became a widow, because of the pass of my distant father. Moreover, throughout my adolescent life, I had trouble figuring out what I want to do. It was not until my senior year in high-school I felt I lost all hope. I, I didn’t apply to a single university, I decide not attend field trips, ball dance, and graduation. Merely, because I felt I underachieve. It was not until I became a voracious reader of Benjamin Graham that changed my life,

Hopelessly lost at first, my journey began to feel like an exciting new adventure. Settling in a new country has many negative effectsas one adapts to the new culture, people and starting a life from step one.Drastic cultural differences became an obstacle for my parents as it was difficult to adapt to this society with new morals, roots, and lifestyle. Immigrants must make the decision if they want to blend in and follow the foreign culture or continue to stick to their own culture. Making a decision was not an option in my family, it was clear that it’s our duty to carry on our culture and traditions regardless of where we end up around the world. However, it’s important to find a balance between staying true to one’s roots and being able toevolve with the new environment and assimilate to the society, otherwise, one may become isolated.I remember observing my mom, quietly sufferingin loneliness as she left everyone she knew, her family and friends, to a country where she had no one.However, with time, she found ways to stay in touch with her friends and family and made new friends in Canada as well.One of the most significant outcomes that moving countries has on immigrants, including myself, is language barriers as it has remained to be a prevalent challenge for many immigrants, particularly during the initial stages of settlement. A study conducted by the Canadian government showed that 32% of job seekers experienced language barriers as an issue (Statistics Canada, 2005). I remember going to school for the first time in Canada and being extremely terrified to interact with other people who spoke a language I hardly knew. I had forgotten my lunch and wasn’t able to communicate this to anyone so I busted into tears as I struggled to convey such a simple message. Moving countries can be a risky decision to make as you have to leave everything behind, in hopesthat you

The first year living in America, I went to fourth grade at a local public school. I was ostracized from my peer groups and bullied because of my Asian features and my limited vocabulary. It was a new beginning, they said, a second chance, a better opportunity. Yet I felt trapped, betrayed, and lost.

I remember it like it was yesterday, the day that changed my life forever. On March 9th of 2011, my mom was diagnosed with skin cancer in her lung. The doctor gave her about six months to live and this is how it went.