Growing up in a immigrant family and being a first generation born U.S. citizen, I experienced a lot of things most kids might've not. There were positives moments in my life, but we all know life is not easy, everyone has something that prevents them from falling asleep at night. I remember when I was younger, I had just got back from school and I learned how to spell my first word, TREE, I was at my grandma's house and I was so excited I had to tell her, "Rosa! Mira, aprendi como excrivir arbol! Look, I learned how to spell tree." She had a confused expression, but through my excitement and innocence, I didn't notice. I took a piece of paper and proceeded to write the word TREE and showed my grandma. She looks at the paper and says, "Mijo, …show more content…
This was the first time I experienced some sort of difference, but it wasn't the only time. I went to schools that were mostly classes filled with kids of different backgrounds, so elementary and middle school were times that showed me that I am different, but that is not bad thing. I gained confidence in being Mexican because I knew my friends experienced the things I did. I knew some other kids went home and spoke another language other than English that their parents taught them. I grew up with kids like me, kids that showed me that I didn't choose to be Mexican, I just got …show more content…
High School was way more different than my earlier schools, there wasn't a lot of colored kids. Freshman year was a struggle in making friends, I would fill my head with thoughts that told me I chose the wrong school to attend. I felt as if all the kids knew where I came from, I knew the stereotypes for Mexicans and I felt that was how I was viewed by the other students. I'm sure a lot of the kids didn't have those views, but I bet my money some of them did. I remember specific times in certain classes where I would do something academically right like answer a question correctly and the heads of some would turn towards me in shock, and I'd just think 'Yes, you guys, I can speak English fluently and I have the cerebral power to answer a question correctly.' This continued till sophomore year, when I started hanging out with friends that I could relate to. This gave a boost in my social life, my group of friends showed me to take pride in being the minority. Junior year and senior year were the time of my life thanks to my friends, to the school my friends and I were known as Bean Squad, go figure. We took the name as a token for our diversity, we stood out from the rest of the school, but were still part of the same community. I never experienced face to face racism at the school because the other kids were smart enough not to disrespect me,
Being a daughter of immigrant parents has never been easy here in America. Both my parents worked excessively hard to be financially stable. Unfortunately at the age of ten my life changed. I learned that my parents no longer loved each other. The arguing and fighting my parents had, only damaged me emotionally. I was too young to grasp the idea that my parents were separating which become one of the hardest times for my mom to maintain my siblings and I. Shortly after, I began attending church and fell in love with the idea of getting closer to God. Luckily, my life took an enormous turn the moment I gave my life to Christ. God has opened numerous opportunities for my education. I am proud of all the accomplishments I have achieved in high
There were three lessons that my immigrant parents ingrained in their first-generation children: Work hard, never give up, and most importantly, give back. Among other life lessons they taught us, these three were the basis for everything. It would be the basis that would and will define me as a person.
I was born in a small ranch in Mexico, and raised in Oregon .My first year and a half I grew up with only my mother and grandmother, my father in the US trying to raise enough money to send to my mom and me . I came to the United States with my mom at the time in only understood Spanish. The Spanish language stayed with me up until I was 3 , I was the only child but my older cousins taught me a new foreign language. From the moment I learned to speak English to almost 14 years later, being a year away fro graduation its been a big struggle. Fighting against the "I cant's" and "failure" it's been a bumpy ride. Something that has really shaped my life is, as I grew up I didn't quite understand the meaning of immigrant, my 7 year old mind didn't
“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.
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.
I was always a precocious child, yet argumentative and rebellious. I did not want to accomplish anything following a pattern set for me. I wanted to forge my own way. This determination set me at odds with my mother, and has defined our relationship all these years. It has surely led me down my own irregular path in life, and placed me in position to be the family’s black sheep.
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.
I never knew my dad was illegally in the United States until he was arrested by U.S Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Everything happened so fast, and before I knew it my whole life was changing. One day I was having a pizza date with my dad, and a few days later I was in the car on a 3 hour drive to the Tacoma Northwest Detention Center to say goodbye to him as he awaited his deportation to Mexico. My father's deportation has been the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. It has brought on emotional hardships and financial struggles, which, has brought on challenges regarding my education.
I am from a country with beautiful landscapes that has turned into a warzone country.
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
One person can have the power to change a community’s perspective or sharpen it. As a Latina and an immigrant, my family’s experience has taught me about the process of entering the United States and the complications that follow. Still, my comprehension of social issues developed further the day I met my brother’s friend and classmate, who followed my brother home, unannounced, on the bus. I will call him Eric, my brother’s friend and his family are Salvadorian undocumented immigrants who seek political asylum. Eric’s family consists of a younger and an older sibling, and his mother. The only source of income is what his mother, who does not speak English very well, makes. Lately, this is what keeps me up at night. Thoughts of this child and his family consume my mind while I brainstorm ways of helping. At a young age when their biggest concerns
My father left my mother as a young immigrant, he left me at a young age, I only had my mother and my little sister. I couldn’t imagine the world without them, so when I discovered I could potentially lose my mother, I almost fell apart.
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.
My Grandma called my mom the same time she told me because my mom didn’t know. Finally, after all the things we did and to top it off, my Grandma said we are going to a Cardinals game. I had never been to a Cardinals game. I was so excited because they were doing good and they
It was a regular day at Prairie Ridge Elementary school. I was sitting, mind-numbingly, in my fourth-grade class, waiting for the school day to end so I could go home and accomplish whatever. All of a sudden, out of the blue, my teacher, answered the