Personal Narrative: Moving To Italy

Moving to America, was a difficult transition for me. I had come to the realization that I wasn’t going to see my friends any time soon back in Iran and that was hard to overcome at a young age. I was alone as a child because my siblings are a lot older than me, and my parents’ had the challenge of starting over because they had left everything behind in Iran. However, that wasn’t going to get in the way of me succeeding in school. I have always been a fast learner, by the age of eight I had already learned four languages. Also, I was voted most improved by my classmate every year I was in Elementary School. This might not seem like a big achievement, but as a young student in a new country it was a huge motivation boost for me to improve every

John sat quietly thinking about the events from the day before. A lot had happened in the last couple hours. He wasn’t sure whether to stare at the wall in shock or go out celebrating. John had just been naturalized. He was a citizen of the United States of America. He never has to go back home. He had rights. He could out and say anything! He could practice his religion! He was American.

For me, being an Italian American means that I have come from a long line of hardworking immigrants who came to the United States to make a better life for their children while still maintaining their Italian cultural pride and heritage. From the time that I was a small child, I was taught to be proud of my Italian heritage. From the young age of four or five, I can remember sitting in the kitchen while my grandmother and great-grandmother would be cooking and they would tell me how my great-great grandparents immigrated to the United States from Calabria. They told me how my great-great -grandfather came with little money and could not speak English. He worked in the mines and sold wood on the side in order to make a living. A few

I looked at myself at the mirror, drops of water coming out of my eyes like as if it was a rainy day in May. Hearing the news got me so upset and depressed. I sat outside and looked around the place that I have grown up and that meant a lot to me. When I heard that our family was moving to America I was not happy about that.I was angry with my family because I did not want to leave Ethiopia. I did not want to leave my friends and family in Ethiopia. It scared me that I had to leave my old life and start a new one. A month later, it was time to go the airport and get ready to go to the new country. I was nervous; my heartbeat got louder and louder as walked closer to the airport. As I bit my lip, my eyes were dancing to every corner, my legs were shaking, and my hands were sweating. I was sad that I was leaving the place that I called home and that I had to leave all my childhood memories. At the same time, I was excited because I always wondered what it felt like to move to a different country and adapt to a new world, culture, and language. At the airport, I was happy finally come face to face with the big white things that use to fly over my house. I was stunned to see how big they really were. All of the sudden my sadness turned into excitement and I could not wait to start a

Even though it hasn’t been a long time since our family has moved to America, it feels like a lifetime ago. I can barely remember the days of walking around barefoot and only having a small piece of bread to eat, while here everyone has shoes to wear and eats pasta multiple times a week. How my life has changed in such a short time. Everyone and everything moves at such fast pace here, if one blinks they can miss a lifetime. Back in Sicily, the days drug on while everyone went through the motions of their days on the farm. There are many differences between Sicily and here in America, but the first time I laid my eyes on the Statue of Liberty, I knew I was meant to be an American.

The Italian culture has been developed into a staple of American life, especially with a preexisting history ingrained into communities across the United States.

My family and I in 2008 moved from Trinidad and Tobago to America. We were all so excited to move to a new country. We heard about all the fun experiences and great opportunities that America had to offer. I must admit that I had mixed emotions about moving to a new country. On one hand, I was exactly happy because I was going to have an opportunity to go college and presume my dream of being a childhood teacher or child psychologist. On the other hand, I was sad because I was leaving all my Tobago friends and family

“Something that I never had in life, something that you have but are taking for granted, I won't stand for it.” Game controller in hand, I gulped hard, with sweat rolling down my head. My eyes pointed directly downward, not daring to look up as my mother gave “the talk.” My mother’s words echo in my head. Having lost her father during high school, she was denied her right to higher education. She married at a young age, moved to America, and gave birth to me. The first born, the carrier of the American Dream. We were what one would expect from an immigrant Indian family; working hard, valuing education, and hoping for a better tomorrow. As my parents worked hard to sustain our family, I strived to excel in school, motivated by their hardship.

"Yesenia tu tienes una chispa" said a much older white haired man. At that moment how could a snot nosed brat understand the importance of words coming out of this man's mouth? A big part of me today traces back to words my grandfather so sweetly spoke to me and to the tenderness and love he shared with me. "Yesenia you have a spark" He said it to me I was raised to believe I am unique. The first time my grandfather and I were separated was when my parents made the decision to move to the United States. When you're as young as I was, you don't really understand where you're going or why everyone is crying, or the fact that your life is about to change. Coming to the United States caused chaos in my family. Those first years were hard I wasn't used to an unstable household. Later, my parents divorced that led to hate and

It’s been a little over a month since I got to America from Mexico. I live in New York City now. It’s nothing as I expected it to be people in the city are very rude, one day I was walking to work which is a clothing factory a teenage boy, who looked very wealthy told me, “go back where you come from” and “you don’t belong here.” That’s when I met the nicest woman I have ever met, her name’s Jane. She saw everything that happened, she knew I was scared of the boy and that’s when she gave me this flyer. She told me to come to her organization meeting at this church where she would help me adjust to New York. Surprisingly, the meeting was during a time I didn’t work and I heard a couple of the girls that I work with chatting about it. So, I

Moving to Syracuse a little over 3 years ago from Morocco all by myself proved rather difficult at first and my first year here was especially hard as battled minor depression. I had left Morocco to try and better myself in my birth country and the country I spent the majority of my childhood in. After I came out of my one year battle with depression. I had a new outlook on life and wanted to better myself and after my cousin told me about Onondaga Community College and all it had to offer, I was sold. Despite it the fact that it was far from easy getting started as it was all so knew to me. Applying for admission, registering for classes, applying for financial aid, and trying to decide on a major. Fortunately, everyone at the student central

Over the past seven years my family and I have moved to many different countries and we have never stayed in one place for very long. In the year 2009 my family moved to Costa Rica, in 2010 we moved to Guatemala, then in 2011 we moved back to the US, then in 2012 we moved to England, and finally in 2015 I moved by myself back to the US. I really struggled with the moving to different countries so often, the biggest struggle I had was I never felt like I had a permanent home. It also felt like every time I finally put down roots, they just got ripped up again. On the other hand, one of my best friends, who also moved to many different countries all over the world, never struggled with it and loved the adventurous aspect of moving. For the longest

Have you ever thought of what it would be like to move to another country? Well, about a month ago I had to do that exact thing and let me tell you it’s pretty difficult to adjust.

I have to say, that my life now, is fairly cushy. I don’t have to worry about to many things: I own my own car, I pay my rent on time, I have a decent job. A lot of what I have now, I owe to my grandparents. They chose to immigrate into the United States from Mexico so that my Mom would have a chance at a good life.

I moved to America from Albania when I was little. English was not my first language so, I had to learn it by practicing my fellow classmates' example. I was a part of HILT, High-Intensity Language Training, in elementary school to help my language barriers. Before middle school began, teachers thought I no longer needed HILT. It was because I had worked hard to get be in the same place most other students were in. In high school, I found things I was passionate about. In my sophomore year, I joined Future Business Leaders of America and became joined the mentor