Introduction: Hello reader, I’m about to tell you a story of some of my life. I am not normally one to volunteer details about myself, which I’ll remain somewhat reserved or completely leave some events out of this autobiography. Nonetheless, I believe I can still make my story interesting for the reader. I was born 1979, in Tampa, Florida; which, is also the same day my biological father decided to leave my mother and I. My mother isn’t a native Floridian, but had moved there with her family when she was still an infant, and had spent most of her life growing up in Florida. Needless to say, my father leaving was not an exciting time for my mother and I. Although she was employed Jimmy Cater was president and had taken the nation into …show more content…
My mother’s family is relatively new to America, early 20th century, and had migrated here from Bohemia (one of the Czech lands) after many political changes were occurring in Europe; which, eventually lead to the Great War (World War I). In their exodus from Europe all of their wealth was left behind and they only brought to America what they could carry. After arriving to the United States of America my ancestors immediately became successful with ambition and entrepreneurship. No one in my family stands idly by, nor do any of us stand around waiting for welfare. We are all very educated and successful and we have no tolerance for laziness and whining. My stepfather’s family is also from a highly successful and educated background; however, his family were in America since the Crowne. His family is linked to Thomas Jefferson, via marriage, and has had involvement with many of America’s great moment in history, such as, his families lumber company provided the wood for the first five frigates commissioned by Jefferson during the Barbary War. My biological father too has an in-depth history here in America. His family mostly were military officers in many of the countries early wars; i.e., French Indian Wars, Revolutionary War, Civil War, Spanish-American War, etc. Overall, I have quite an extensive …show more content…
In these countries I witnessed first hand true Islam. If anyone wishes to know what Islam is all about and how it is really practiced by the majority (if not all) of its followers, may I recommend you retrieve a Koran and read it from cover to cover. In all of the aforementioned countries there are only the “haves and have not’s.” There is no middle class, nor are there individual rights and liberties. Their governments dictate what the citizen’s freedoms are (unlike America, where we are born with our rights [unalienable rights], they cannot be taken from us unless we allow it) and regularly abuse their citizens and even murder them in the streets, which I’ve witnessed. But, if you wish to lavish yourself with luxury, the Middle East is full of fine goods that are expensive here in America. I purchased a very fine 12’x10’ Persian silk rug, which took a family three years to make by hand for $700. My rug purchase emphasizes more on the excessive poverty in these countries, especially when I purchased something so beautiful at $0.64 a
Humanity is ever so much more complicated than one could have ever imagined. Humans can thrive on change, but ultimately look for something to declare as home. In search of this home people travel long distances and risk everything they have. When an American contemplates the word immigrant, one imagines the countless people from Mexico crossing into our country or the refugees that hope to make this country their home. What eludes most of us, however, is the reality that most people were, at one point, immigrants to this country and that our forefathers came here exactly the same as refugees come today. What is brought to mind when I hear the word immigrant is hope and perseverance. I remember the countless people who have traveled here
With the settlement of first immagrants to America, this has been the phrase in which they preach. I seemed to those from an outside perspective of America, that this was the place to be. This was no exception for my grandfather. His valuable lessons of dedication, persistence and passion have shaped me into the person that I have become.
Throughout my entire life I have heard the word “immigrant” countless times, inmy childhood, in my middle school days, and especially nowadays with the controversial topic taking over social media. I’ve been labelled with this word or image ever since my birth, and yet I still don’t exactly know how I should feel about that.
Growing up, I was a first generation American. My family emigrated from Egypt seventeen years ago with a dream of starting a life in America. After coming to a new country and leaving their family behind, they had to find a way to start a new life. However, being an immigrant came with many challenges that my parents had to face head on. A few months after my parents and sister moved to America, I was born. Being that my parents never received a full education they struggled only to earn mundane jobs. My mom stayed home to take
When I arrived to the United States I faced a challenging situation in my life, I didn’t know English. This challenging as I didn’t know how to communicate with any of my teachers or classmates, and I wasn’t able to do any of my work. Not being able to participate in class upsetted me because in Mexico I was use to doing all my classwork and homework. Therefore, I decided that I was going to do everything in my power to learn English quickly. So, when the my ESL teacher announced to my parents that they were going to have to take to school during the summer, I didn’t mind at all. When I was in summer school I learned a lot of English due to my determination and my hard work. Looking back I wouldn’t do things differently because I know that
Growing up as an immigrant I view the world in a much more different light than most people do. Whenever an opportunity presents itself to me I am willing to put in the effort if I know it will better my life. This trait of resourcefulness originates from my family who, over the years have created a life for themselves out of virtually nothing. I moved to America at the young age of two years old with my father. Though he didn’t have much to begin with, my father decided to move to this country in hopes to lead a better life and follow on the path of the American dream. I vividly recall being in the backseat of our car while my father trained me on the importance of remaining perceptive and hardworking in school and abroad, I remember he would
I am an immigrant. I look and act like any other student at Reading High School, participating in class and school extracurricular activities. But, I live in constant fear. I am afraid that I may never be who I want to be. I worry that I may not get a job, go to college, or even get a driver's license. But what I worry most about is that my parents will be deported back to Mexico someday and I will lose my family, forever.
I am an immigrant, originating from Ukraine. I moved here three years ago to take advantage of the “land of the free”. I had heard of the conscription under Russian imperial dictators, such as Tzar Nicolas, and Soviet despots, like Stalin. Fourcing an individual to perform a service, regardless of the cause, seems to be slavery to me. When I found that men in America must register for the draft, in my eyes, “the land of the free” became slightly less free. It is abhorrent that men may be required to enlist in the military, and equally so for women and therefore should not be tied to feredal grants.
On a random Thursday morning in the middle of October, I became an orphan. I have always been independent and mature from a young age, but all that changed on a crisp day in November when I learned what it means to grow up. Something typically marked by a Bat Mitzvah or the acquisition of a driver’s license was, for me, marked by the arrest of my single mother.
It is not uncommon to hear one recount their latest family reunion or trip with their cousins, but being a first generation immigrant, I sacrificed the luxury of taking my relatives for granted for the security of building a life in America. My parents, my brother, and I are the only ones in my family who live in the United States, thus a trip to India to visit my extended family after 4 years was an exciting yet overwhelming experience. Throughout the trip, I felt like a stranger in the country where I was born as so many things were unfamiliar, but there were a few places that reminded me of my childhood.
He came back to the apartment while I was in the middle of dancing to “Promise” by Ciara in my living room. At first I didn’t even notice because I was so into it, but then I turned and saw him. He looked upset about something- which is probably why he was back so soon- but he was also staring at me in shock and mild interest. He looked away, face turning red, and that’s when I remembered that I was wearing only my black bra and panties with a see through black robe that probably doesn’t even qualify as a robe. But still I stood there, embarrassed, but also a little pleased that he was embarrassed as well. He brushed past me, making his way to his room. I followed after him. “Liam, what’s wrong?” He didn’t answer, just went in his room and
“Mom, will I ever be treated as a regular person? When will I be like the others without people look at me in a strange way and make fun of me, when mom? When?” Those were the questions I did to my mom almost every day after getting home from school. Fourteen years ago that my parents brought me to this country offering a better life with better opportunities than where I was born. I was seven years old when came to the United States, but I still remember the happiness I felt when I first step in this country. Throughout the years, I have realize that not everything is easy and simple as I imagined. My parents worked in the fields because of the lack of a social security and not knowing how to speak English. Many Americans do not know how hard it is the life of an immigrant, they should have a consideration for us and not just blame us for the deviance of the United States.
My family immigration story involves a lot of typical topics and a few hardships which people may not expect. By my generation, we have become accepted as White. However, both of my grandmothers had mixed ancestry.
I chose my immigrant participant from a personal perspective, yet not knowing much about him. Last year, my first year teaching, I had a little boy in my class that was Latino, very shy and quite. He struggled in reading and writing and after meeting with his parents and ESOL teacher several times, the decision was made to retain him in first grade. His parents, especially dad was hesitant about the decision, and began to tell small glimpses of how his son was very much like him, shy, and scared to reach out because of the language barrier. There was never much elaborated on, but I could tell that dad had possibly been in a similar situation before. This year, I was lucky enough to have this same child in my first grade class again. After receiving
Today, I witnessed a young woman with her little daughter dropped multiple hundred bills in the parking lot prior to getting in her car. An associate saw the woman dropped her money and tried to get her attention, but was successful, so he puts the money in his pocket. I instantly approached the woman and briefly told her what I just witnessed. She asked me to go back to the store with her to vouch for her to the store manager. I agreed. Once we informed the store manager and confronted the associate who put the money inside his pocket instead of reporting it to security or his manger. She was able to procure her money back. Then, she told me I was a life saver. The woman explained to me she just got laid and really needed the money to support