Personal Narrative: A Bilingual Analysis

Before I turned four years old, my mother and I moved to join my father in Berwyn, Illinois. My sister ended having to stay back a couple of months so that she could finish her school year. We arrived to a nice apartment in the suburbs, it was a complete scenery change than what I was use to. Everyone seemed to have giant yards, bright green grass, large fences, and freshly painted houses. Back in Fresnillo, we had our large home, but it was rare for houses to have such large yards, so close to the heart of the town. From the time of the move until my first year in kindergarten, I had a bit of time to adjust, watching cartoons in English, I am not quite sure how I picked it up but I did. At that time my mother only spoke Spanish, my father is bilingual, but he would speak to us in Spanish.

When my mom would send me off to school, nobody ever liked the new guy. I felt so scared, and awkward.I was bullied because of the color of my skin. I tended to be a little darker not only because of my roots but because long hard hours working with my dad after school. Resulted of me having sun burns. I was called every name in the book,and it was tough for me. Having to go to school and get treated like an old rag was already enough to what I would come home everyday with. I’d just get home and right away start working with my dad just to start giving us some income. I had to get used to this type of work everyday for the rest of my life. I wasn't so sure even if I even wanted to keep going to school. I mean I was already not caring for school and working with my dad after school. I wanted to drop out. To leave everything behind. I didn't need to keep going. I was a nobody. Nobody wanted me. My classmates told me so many times. I started to believe

I was incredibly excited. School was starting tomorrow. The first few days were just icebreakers, learning everyone’s names, blah blah blah. Then the real learning began. Of course, teachers started to write our lessons on the board. I started to notice a few changes in what I was seeing. The words they were writing were just...black lines! I didn’t pay much attention to it, I just asked my friends what the board said. As the year went on, it affected me more and more, especially in math. I saw a 2 as a 6, and and an A as an 8.

Since my early years, I was pushed into engineering because I excelled in math and science. I took an interest in bioengineering but my heart was not there. It was just a placeholder but I was not truly passionate about it and to me that was unsatisfactory. I wanted to change my major, but to what I had not known. Going into my junior year, I was afraid my time was running out. My whole life changed when my counselor asked me,” Spanish 3 or AP Psychology?”. Having already taken two years of spanish, I opted to take the AP class. I was immediately intrigued in the subject. I went to class everyday eager to learn. I liked psychology so much because it was easily applicable to real life. I would identify things I had learned in class in and have

To everyone else, I was the happiest little girl in the world, but people did not see that “at night I no longer dreamed, nor did I let my imagination work during the day. The once vibrant escapes…were now a thing of the past. When I fell asleep, my soul became a consumed black void… With no dreams, I found that words like hope and faith were only letters…words only for fairy tales” (Pelzer ). Dave captured exactly what I was feeling in just a few sentences.

Being part of the Dual Language program is an experience I cherish because of how it molded me into the person I am today; someone who appreciates their two cultures. I was apart of the Dual Language club in high school, that was a club for bilingual students and for Dual Language students. Further, being part of a diverse program made me realize that I want to continue to celebrate and appreciate my two cultures. The Dual Language program exposed me to a culture embedded in my roots, for that I am thankful for it. Being active and part of two different cultures has impacted me more than any other experience.

“Tienes tijeras?” asked a young girl. Not understanding what she had said, I asked her what she needed in English, but she looked back at me with eyes full of confusion. A simple question from one young girl asking for scissors had made me nervous and completely freeze in the moment. Through this, interacting with the children worried me because of the language barrier which would make it twice as hard as interacting with the children at home.

For my inter-ethnic encounter, I interviewed one of my best friends from high school Ashley Arias. Ashley is nineteen years old, so she is a year younger than me. She is currently pursuing a nursing degree at Notre Dame of Maryland University located in Baltimore, Maryland. She is originally from Virginia but now lives in Glen Burnie, Maryland. Her immediate family includes her parents and her younger brother. She also has a bulldog that she has had for three years. I have known Ashley for about seven years, but we have been really close for about five of those years starting during my junior year of high school.

“Same here with Spanish. I only know the common words but not all of them. If you want me to, then I can teach you German. It’s an easy language to learn. I can tell you that saying hello in German is saying hall with an O at the end: Hall-O.”

In May 2003, I was a Staff Sergeant serving as a squad leader in a Military Police Company. We deployed to Baghdad, Iraq in support of combat operations; I led a squad of 12 Soldiers. My squad’s primary mission was conducting mounted and dismounted patrols in a neighborhood called Al-Dura in the southern part of Baghdad. Soon after arriving in country and receiving our mission, all squad leaders reported to the Battalion Headquarters for introductions and assigning of interpreters to our squads. I had never worked hand in hand with an interpreter before, I was apprehensive about bringing someone I did not know into our team especially someone who would be serving such an essential role in the success of our mission. I had a distrust of all Iraqi people initially, knowing

The front range of Colorado has a large diversity of cultural populations represented. Therefore, as a professional counselor it is my responsibility to educate myself on the cultures I am likely to be working with. Since there is such a diverse population there is no way I am going to know everything about everyone’s culture. Although, I do know the cultures of the majority populations that frequent the agency I am currently working. Since I am working with populations I would be aware of the societal issues they are facing and the oppression they have been and are up against. Therefore, this allows me to immerse myself into their culture, learning and seeing firsthand the oppression and prejudices they face in the community in which we

It was like this every morning. Terror, disgust, I never knew how to live a happy life. When others would ask me if I was ok, I never could answer with a straight face. Then it happened, we lost our house. We had nowhere to go. Down the street we found an abandoned asylum,

For those nine weeks, I bided my time. The goal was to get my diploma. That was my only drive. I felt different from people, who were doing normal things. Surrounded by strangers again, I felt alienated. I had no inclination of how to behave, interact, or be a teenager. I was no longer human. Social interactions were rare, awkward and assigned. I had no conversation skills, and my clothes were not in the current style or fashion. Looking back, I was a fish out of

The afternoon had just set and aureate rays of lights were peeking onto my plaid printed arm chair through the countless stained glass windows that consumed the room of my new house. I had finally decided to let my legs ease on the ottoman just in front of me after a long day of classes that it seemed inevitable I would fail. My brain screamed of exhaustion, but my eyes caught hold of the Purple Hibiscus book falling lifelessly out of my backpack across the room. I figured now would be a better time than ever to begin my english reading, so naturally, I stood and hobbled over to the book, took it by my two hands, and in the same motion sat swiftly back down into the armchair. The sides of the chair squeezed me adequately and the excitement

For a background story, I am bilingual and I my parents sent me to Mexico to learn more Spanish. I came back, to complete my fourth grade, here back in the USA. Then, during that year, I made new friends from both Spanish and non-Spanish speaking kids, I had one friend in particular. We would play together during recess. One night during a parent teacher conference, we both saw each other and hugged, all while her mother was behind her. When I wanted my friend to meet my parents, all of a sudden, her mom grabs her by her arm and looked at me. Her mother then asked me, "are you a Mexican?" And I answered "I guess, but I speak Spanish too!" Suddenly she looks at my friend and says "why are you friends with her? We got to go now." When all of