My Mother 's First Job Essay

​Parents are one of the most beautiful things that could happen to anyone. They are always there by your side no matter what; they always want the best for their children. They can be strict and protective, its because they love their kids and they don’t want them to get hurt. My parents are special to me because with all the hard time that they had to have me and my siblings in their life they still fought for us and didn’t give up, even after 17 years of trying. But for me? The greatest of all is my mom. She is the one that I look up too. She is the greatest of all. Simple, funny, strict, protective, but yet she is the best.

This family comes from Mexico in which they don’t have much money there either. They came to America to work for the so called “American dream”. America’s even states about the want for the dream, “She wanted. Of course she wanted. Everybody who’d stayed behind to dry up and die in Tepoztlan wanted too.” (Boyle29) Everyone ached for that dream, but like the Rincon’s they didn’t have a helping hand, they didn’t have money handed down or even an education given to them to work from. They are starting from nothing and work for minimum wage or less. Nobody takes them serious because they are so low in the social class. Employers know they can pay them anything and illegal immigrants like themselves must take whatever they can get. “pulled out three clean fresh newly minted bills, two tens and a five, and her smile came back. I worked all day”. (Boyle 124) After an entire day of scrubbing Buddha statues, she only made 25 dollars, half of what minimum wage was in California. Even though she only got half of what she deserved she was happy and had a little more hope than yesterday for her dream. One works all day to make nothing compared to one that doesn’t work much gets a lot, all because of different social classes that fall under.

In 1974, my mother, and her lower class family, emigrated from Canada to New City, New York. They moved frequently back and forth between various American and Canadian cities due to my grandfather’s lack of finding long-term employment; he has a book filled with pages upon pages of business cards and papers recording his numerous previous employers. Eventually, my grandfather found a steady job in print, working for the New York Times in 1985, my grandmother opened her own bookstore for a brief period in time, and my mother and her siblings all attended and graduated from four-year colleges. The entire family continues to retain sole Canadian citizenship. As improved a life they have been provided, not all immigration stories have such a happy ending. Most immigrant families coming from south of the United States border, in the same financial situation as my mother and her family had been, will not have such luck. They are stuck in a paradox of stereotypes, between being perceived by the suburban white family as “lazy” or “taking all of our jobs.” Why is it that we turn a blind eye to our neighbors to the north, as if they collectively live up to the stereotype of unfaltering niceness? Though much has been said about these immigrants coming to the United States from Latin America, very little attention is being paid to the immigrants coming from Canada and Western Europe due to prejudice.

Last June my mom lost her job of 30 years without any notice. She literally walked in the office at 8 am, met with her bosses at 8:30, was told her position at the bank was no longer available because they were trying some new things, and was packed and out the door by 9. Since she was making a pretty decent living at the bank, getting benefits and insurance, we were hopeless when she lost her job. At the time, both of us were covered by Blue Cross Blue Shield Insurance. I had just finished my series of Invisalign and had about 4 more months to pay them off, my mom had some medical bills to pay, and we both had eye glasses, contacts, and prescriptions. Even though I was working part-time and she was selling Avon that was not enough. We had

The comparisons--North vs. South, city vs. country, technology vs. nature--are numerous and have been well documented in 20th century literature. Progress contrasts sharply with rooted cultural beliefs and practices. Personalities and mentalities about life, power and change differ considerably between worlds... worlds that supposed-intellectuals from the West would classify as "modern" and "backwards," respectively. When these two worlds collide, the differences--and the danger--rise significantly. This discrepancy between the old and the new is one of the principal themes of Gloria Naylor's Mama Day. The interplay between George, Ophelia and Mama Day shows the discrepancies between a "modern" style of thinking and one born of

“What My Mother Doesn’t Know” by Sonya Jones was written in 2001.The book consists of events that aren’t out of the ordinary in a young freshman life,also it is solely composed of armature poetry,almost as if it is diary entries.The main character is Sophie who lives in Cambridge,Massachusetts.She is just entering high school and going through all the typical stages such as becoming distant from her mother and boys are always on her mind.As each poem is written it is enviable to see the maturity that has taken over her.The story really connects with its audience in the sense that when they were in their freshman year it was okay to be awkward and fall in love with every guy you laid eyes on.It is simply a part of growing up,but luckily she also shows that after she came

For my oral history project, I decided to interview my mother. I am pretty close with my mom, as we talk daily, and I am comfortable often to seek advice from her. A challenge that I faced was trying to find an appropriate date and time for the interview. My mom works six days a week, and I am often preoccupied with classes and school work. Another challenge was my mom’s hesitation with going into too much detail about her experiences. In addition, it was difficult to interview another family member such as a relative because I was not particularly close with my uncles or aunts, nor were any of them easy to contact due to variations in time zones. Furthermore, arguably one of my largest reason why I choose to interview my mom was because I never had taken the time or initiative to ask about my mom’s past. I had only knew of some general aspects, but never asked too much into detail. The oral history project was a perfect opportunity to dwell deeper into my family’s history and how they came to America.

There have been a vast number of lives that have touched mine. Many different people have shared a piece of their soul in my formation. However, it is my mother who is the most important and most influential person in my life. My mother raised me by herself since the day I was born. My father was abusive and she left to make a better life for the both of us. She has worked as many as four jobs at one time. My mother wants to make sure my brothers and I have a better life than she did. It hasn’t always been easy for her, taking care of us on her own, trying to pay bills and making sure we had everything we needed. My mom has always had us involved in sports at a very young age. We always were doing something or involved in something

My mother is the second of five children. When my mother was 15 my grandfather left my grandmother for another women. My grandmother had no income and depended on my grandfather. My mother had to leave middle school to help at home. The only job available was working in the clothing factories. My mother expressed that she will work many hours, in poor condition and low pay. One of her family members from the USA convince her to come to the USA. The family members describe the USA a place where she can make a lot money and help her family back home. My mother pack her bags and made the journey to Tijuana. Once in Tijuana my mother crossed the boarded illegally by car. My mother shared that she was inside car, she was hiding under the seats for 5 hours. Once in the USA my mother was able to get help from her family members to find a job. The only job that she could find and has stay is a clothing factory for the past 35 years. Both my parents’ journey to the USA were illegally but for good intentions. My parents came to this country to help their family have a better future. They were willing to leave everything behind and risk it all to find a better tomorrow. My parents had a difficult time adjusting in the USA, the traditions, language and beliefs. I learn that my parents didn’t forget where they came from. Their beliefs, values and norms never changed in the

I believe that one of the simplest, but most profound, actions a person can do is to give back and help others. Helping others requires very little of oneself besides the willingness and passion to give of your time, talents, or something as simple as having a conversation. My first job was a day camp counselor at Camp Foster. While all of my friends were working at hotels and shops that had better hours and pay, I was happily welcoming campers to a week or fun, songs, and relationship building. I loved working at Camp Foster because I loved what working there meant, our mission was to help foster children build a healthy mind, body, and spirit. it was more than a summer job, but an opportunity to help build a strong generation of children who would have values instilled in them and strong relationship building skills.

My Mother is a nurse. I was raised by a nurse. My Mother graduated nursing in the 1940’s. After High School, she attended nursing school for 2 or 3 years. She had class in the morning and worked at the hospital in the evenings and often overnight. Nuns ran her school, as well as her life. She talked about the uniforms, the work, and the dormitory rules. She graduated a straight A student and worked for a few years until she met my Dad. She got married, quit working and raised 5 children. The “nurse” never left my mom. We were up at the crack of dawn, clean fed and sent outside for “fresh air”, meanwhile inside, all beds were aired, made and systematically stripped and washed. Somebody’s bed sheets were on the clothesline, smelling

What can one say about their mother? One may talk about her positive and negative

Now I can say that I had never understood others suffering from a bad loss of a dear person.  I would hate to hear that anybody died. When this happened to me, when my dear mother died, I started to understand all those people who lost someone they loved. There are perhaps no proper words to describe this pain, This intolerable pain which tears you apart, which is like a stone on your heart, and which make tears run down your face with each moment spent with the dear person who passed away. Time is unlikely to pass so fast this hurt, no matter what others claim.

I often wondered if my mother would have chosen to immigrate to the United States of America, after repatriating to Holland, to begin a new life from absolutely nothing but the clothes on our backs for the second time, if my parents had stayed together. Was it their divorce that inspired Mom to lead us on our path to prosperity? Eventually I understood that my Mom’s ultimate motivation was her vision of a brighter future for her family, regardless of her marital status. In Holland, Mom could not bare to watch her mother be the sole breadwinner and living off a Dutch government's subsidized income was equally unacceptable. Following Aasje’s death, Evie observed Oma, overcome with grief, lose her spirit, and she aspired for a better life

A mother is someone who can take the place of all others but no one can take the place of her. There are many different definitions you could use to describe your mother. My mother, Pam Krull, fits every one of those. Today I decided to pick the three that I thought was most important to me. I admire and aspire to be like my mother because of how supportive, how selfless, and how loving she is.