Personal Narrative: My Experience As An Immigrant

Welcome. A single word on the carpet by the door greets me whenever I come home. There had been times where that one word made my heart beat and cry with joy. But not now, for many things changed through the years. Now when I look at this carpet, I instead question back: ‘Do you really mean that?’

Hello reader, I’m about to tell you a story of some of my life. I am not normally one to volunteer details about myself, which I’ll remain somewhat reserved or completely leave some events out of this autobiography. Nonetheless, I believe I can still make my story interesting for the reader. I was born 1979, in Tampa, Florida; which, is also the same day my biological father decided to leave my mother and I. My mother isn’t a native Floridian, but had moved there with her family when she was still an infant, and had spent most of her life growing up in Florida. Needless to say, my father leaving was not an exciting time for my mother and I. Although she was employed Jimmy Cater was president and had taken the nation into

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 came to US during my 8th grade and that was a life changing moment in my life. It was first time traveling aboard and that also not for a trip but for to permanent settlement. I was nervous my whole time been in the plane that how I will cope up with new environment and with bunch of English speakers. I got more. When it came pilot call for, that it's time to land on the Detroit Airport, tighten your seatbelts and be relax. As soon as the plane landed on American soil, I knew that this was the place where I’d to start a new life. Even though I knew America is the “Land of Opportunity”, everything here seemed so strange to me, the streets, the language and the people that was my first time traveling abroad.

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.

I am an immigrant. I look and act like any other student at Reading High School, participating in class and school extracurricular activities. But, I live in constant fear. I am afraid that I may never be who I want to be. I worry that I may not get a job, go to college, or even get a driver's license. But what I worry most about is that my parents will be deported back to Mexico someday and I will lose my family, forever.

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

Being born in the large west African nation of Nigeria, I was aware of the economic, social, and health hardships faced by many people in my country. This reality did not escape my life and the hardships my family and I faced while in Nigeria had a profound impact in the person I am today. Fortunately for us we were able to win the Visa Lottery and immigrate to America where my passion for learning and science began.

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 the first generation of my family members that has been raised at and attended school in the United States. My siblings were raised and educated in Mexico later transitioning to the U.S. when I was 4. My family from a young age to now has only been made up of my mom, two sisters, nephews, and niece slowly growing as time passes.

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.