Goustan's English: Personal Narrative And Spending Time In American

Maya Angelou once said “You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” With that being said, is it important to take in all the thing people say about you? Personally I don’t think so. We cannot control what happen around us and what people says about us, but we do have the power to avoid getting control by people’s saying. My English learning journey began when I was around 4 years old. For me English is like a second nature; I use it so often that I feel like I’m more connect to it than Chinese. By the time I finish kindergarten my parent wants me to continue my education under a system that involve English. So they decided to send me to an international school. At the start I was thrill by the opportunity, but the best part of all is that I get to study at the same school as my sister.

Within the written piece “What is an American?” by J. Hector St. John de Crèvecoeur, the reader is introduced to an unique perspective of an American. Written in 1781, it offers a surprising amount of insight into the times and the realities of a poor immigrant, while still being comprehensible for those who have never had to experience the struggle of immigrants. The ever complex definition of an American is given by those who do not abide by the typical American standards.

Studying in a foreign country is an interesting experience of an individual lifetime. One tends to learn a number of things relating to ways of life in a foreign land. Social, political and economic values and aspects are usually different from one region to another. Therefore, through studying abroad one is able to learn different issues about another society such as gender and sexuality issues, social class and race/ethnicity issues. Having come from a developing country studying in the U.S.A has been a great experience personally. This paper will attempt to provide a reflection of my personal experience on studying in the U.S by comparing the history of Angola and the U.S.

Growing up in Ghana, I had heard a lot of things about the U.S. This was a country I had always wanted to visit; my prayer was answered when I got the opportunity to travel there. Arriving in a new environment came with many experiences. Adjusting with food, language and the weather was not easy. With the passage of time, however I have been able to0 adjust and fit it. This write-up therefore is to elaborate on my experiences since coming to U.S.

I faced the sky and tried to cover the sun’s bright afternoon glare with my hands. The “All-American” B17’s were flying above us. 30,000 feet in the air and joining another formation, the 97th. Total of 40 B17’s backed by 50 spitfires. The whole day has been filled with commotion, it’s as if the ground echoed and bounced around the sounds of war. My ears rang painfully against my head, it’s almost like I still hadn’t gotten used the roaring sounds yet. I ignored the ache, and went back to the task at hand. We were told to dig, dig, and dig, and start creating the “walls”. When we got to the fields of France, the fields were already covered, allowing the Germans to create a stable defense. The battle of hedgerows ended when we blew the hedgerows

Growing up in America, I have always been surrounded by many cultures and different ethnic groups. Many of those cultures differ from my own traditionally. For the first half of my life, I was raised in detroit, a predominantly black city - I had always assumed. My family eventually moved out of Detroit and we moved to Inkster. Inkster was a much smaller city, but it was also a predominantly black city. In 2011, my family moved from Inkster, Michigan to Canton, Michigan. Although the two cities are less than a half hour apart - the cultural and ethnic groups are extremely diverse. While attending my freshman year of high school in Canton I realized, I was a minority there. More than half of the student body, more than half of the community

As I stepped off the plane, the frigid air sliced through my face, just as the cold, harsh reality hit me: I’m an American now.

I am the second oldest of seven children and grew up in a middle class home. My father is Puerto Rican and Dominican and has worked hard to provide my siblings and I with everthing we need. I lived in New England, but moved to Minnesota on my tenth birthday. My parents taught me at a young age to search for my meaning and purpose in life and to use the gifts God has given me not only for my own success, but to service others. My gift of strength quickly made way for world records and winning world championships in powerlifting. I was also a long distance runner but after tearing both meniscuses and requiring surgery I decided to focus more on lifting and throwing. I am an All-American in both the shot put and discus. I am a captain on the track

When I think of the American Identity I think of who we are as a country. From day one we have been fighters and just trying to make this a better place than we found it. Still today we are fighting, not only trying to help our country but to also help our neighbors in need. If you are being kicked out of your own home, out of your country America will bring you in, If you are hungry America will feed you, If you want a future America will educate you. This is the land that will give you a chance in life, to do or be something amazing.If you can’t see that then open your eyes because it is all right in front of you.

I was born in Glendale, Wisconsin, I lived there for 6 years, me and my family were living in a really quiet neighborhood, I didn’t have friends from that neighborhood, that's where I got my shyness, I didn't go out with anyone only with my family, as a child, I never thought about going out and having fun, in another word I didn't care, my family would always try and take us places, that is why me and my parents are so close, I tell them everything, I never hide anything from them, when I'm annoyed and need someone to talk to I will always go and talk to my mother or father.

Walking, walking, and more walking. Today is the day that we begin traveling to Fiume to board a steamship to this place called America. My family doesn't have a lot of money so we can't afford a ride to the port. I only have one pair of shoes and they have many holes in them. We've walked for what seems like an eternity or at least to me. Today is very bittersweet. We're leaving the only place I've ever called home to live in a place we've never seen before. IM not ready to leave. I love Italy but I know it is no longer safe for me, my mom, and my dad. I'm only six years old but I'm old enough to know this could be all a lie. What if America isn't so amazing? What if we done make it? What if we get sent back? So many questions and not

That’s basically all I could understand as I left the immigration center. People all around me were talking in languages I had only studied in textbooks, which barely helped. That was the first time I could really look around and see where I was. The sound of car engines roared in my ears as I walked across the street; people squashed into a small bus while chattering in a garbled language that made no sense. Everywhere I looked I saw chaos, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Years before I found a home in my mother’s swollen belly, my identity had already been conceived by both violence and beauty—two emotions which made love on the war-torn pages of immigrant stories collected on my parents’ spines. As a child, the contents of these stories transported me back to our native Afghanistan, where Soviet bombs converted my mother and father from citizens to refugees—strangers on their own soil. Running my fingers through the pages, I felt the blisters on my father’s hands and verses from the Quran on my mother’s lips as they pieced together the fragments of our home and restored a new life for me and my siblings in the United States. Years later in what was the beginning of a lifelong struggle with my identity, I closed

My scores are so low they did not register on the scale in the assignment description in any area. I am truly American-made. I basically speak one language, except for a little German I remember from 3 years in high school. I have no desire to travel out of our great country. I barely travel outside of my state of Ohio. Until recently, I have had very little exposure to international. My scores seem to indicate that I am not world-minded, and barely nation-minded. I may be in a class all my own and be state-minded. At this point, I do not plan to change much.

up the phone and rang my Tom’s father to thank him, and for me and Tom