When I was seven, I intentionally woke up my parents with a loud thump. It was my first night in America, as well as my first night ever away from my grandma. Among many things, my grandma is my best friend; she's the one I vent to, cry to, and laugh with. On the night my parents announced that my grandma decided she wouldn't be flying with us to our brand new home, a tear immediately formed from the side of my eye. But it disappeared as quickly as it had formed. The last thing she gave me was a handful of her favorite candy, trying to give me a little more of her heart. As she touched my hand, I felt her unconditional love for me through her countless wrinkles, and for the second time, the same tear started to form, but again, nothing shed. …show more content…
Upon arriving to our apartment, my sister, brother, and I shared three hours of endless stories my mom had missed. Soon after, my parents decided it was time for bed. Having lost in a round of rock, paper, and scissors, I was forced to sleep on the floor with my parents while my sister and brother took over the bunk beds. Within a couple of hours into falling asleep, I woke up around 3’o clock from the floor vibrating with the bass notes from the bar downstairs. Scattered memories of my grandma suddenly rushed into my head: all the times I vented to her about how much I didn't want to go to piano lessons; the times I cried to her, limping back home with a bloody scraped knee; and the times we laughed together as my baby brother tried to talk to SpongeBob and Patrick through the TV. The last memory was the final straw, and I was ready to explode with the welled up tears from trying to seem like I had it all together. Still trying to hide my true emotions, I banged my head against the wooden leg of the bunk bed in an attempt to cover the true source of the teardrops. After hearing the loud thump, my parents immediately woke up asking me, “What’s wrong, what happened,” and going along with being the boastful kid I was, I responded, “I hit my head on the bed.” My mom replied, “Everything will be okay.” But everything was not okay because my grandma should have been next to me but instead, she was half way across the world. …show more content…
I was overwhelmed by the thought of making new friends, especially without the ability to speak their language. Immediately, I felt like an alien amongst my classmates. At the end of the first week, the twins in my class approached me and invited me to their seventh birthday party. To my surprise, not even knowing my personality, these twins, nevertheless, showed their love and helped it easier for me to fit in. Their love was long lasting and we ended up becoming good friends. Learning a new language was another impossible challenge for me. However, my mom, knowing how difficult learning English was for me, put aside time to help me read little picture books every night. Reflecting back, I now realize that my mom’s consistent effort to teach me English after a tiring day at work was an act of love for me as well. During my childhood hardship, separated from my grandma, my new friends and my mom and dad filled the hole left by my grandma by expressing the same love to me in different ways. Although I still missed my grandma, people and their love embraced me and helped me to cope without
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
When I came to the United states, it was pretty hard trying to speak and understand english,because when someone was talking to me I did not understood a single word. It Frustrated me.It was also really hard to pronounce a word because some words does not sound the same way their written.I actually did not want it to read or write anything to learn i just want it to go back where I could understand a language.My mom spoke with me about how she felt when she first came to the US I realize that nothing is impossible.
The first time I’ve met my parents was when I was five. When they approached me at the airport, I did not know who they were. When I found out that they were my parents, I did not know how to react — I was excited, but also scared. Standing in front of me were two people whom I listened to the voices of for the past five years and spoke casually with on the phone, but meeting them in person was a whole different story.
When I first came to United State I was afraid to talk, I was scared that people will judge my accent and my word choice.I wasn’t enough to speak until the second year of middle school. After I realized that I needed to step out from my zone, the first step that I chose overcome was to speak with my teachers. I tried to ask questions, told them the story of the book that I read to practice my speaking skill and it helped me a lot. But even though I got comfortable with my speaking, I still could not make friends because I could not understand the conversation that my classmate had, I don’t understand what is popular in this place and what is not. I tried to search it but It didn’t help because It is not appealing to me and have no idea how
It was cold November afternoon when I dragged myself out of the plane and took my first step on the American soil. Moving to America was my greatest adventure and my biggest fear. Having never traveled to a foreign country before I was intrigued about the culture, religion and style of living, It was an exciting experience for me, yet at the same time, I was terrified. I was curious to learn about the culture and the country itself which I heard in abundance on television. What will it be like? Will I be able to fit in the American lifestyle? Will I be able to make friends? The questions were unanswered until I had to experience it on my own.
When we moved to america we didn't know where to start or where to go. It took us a while to settle in our little town. But after a while we were just doing what we normally did, until this man named michael gladwell. He asked us stuff like “What do you eat on a normal basis”, or “How often do you exercise. We answered honestly.
Nobody likes moving at least I know I don't. We we're living in India and I was in fifth grade when we moved. We moved into our house in India when I was one year old. Was going great I had a lot of friends. My best friend was my neighbor every day after school we would go to a park in our colony.
It is the first day of school, well it is for me because it’s my fourth day in the United States. Many of the students in the first grade classroom have been in class for a couple months. A teacher tries to make me feel better of the new surroundings, I have to face the school cafeteria for the first time and I make a lifelong friend. The two first experiences in school were tough, but I made a true friend on the fourth day in the country.
I wake up really fast, jumping out of bed, getting to shower, showering faster than I could, dressing up immediately, I start to eat breakfast and finishing really fast.
I arrived to the United States on August 14, I landed in the afternoon in Dallas, Texas. Language was the first thing I which I had cultural shock. I knew I would be in an Anglophone country, but at the moment when I arrived and I could not understand anything, I entered in a little moment of panic, I was alone in the third biggest airport in the USA, with a delayed flight and with low battery in my cellphone. But I realized that the best thing I could do was keep calm and do my best.
“Me... Fahima Chowdhury. . . hmmm... I … speak…hmm… little English.” I recall these first few words I said on my first day of school here while I walk up to the stage to receive the award of “most improved and exceptionally achieved student.” It was a moment of accomplishment for me. My legs and hands were shaking, my voice was trembling, and my heart was dribbling like a basketball as I tried to walk to the stage at a steady speed. When I finally reached there, my teacher gave me a wide smile and handed me the certificate and said, “Good job, you deserve this more than anyone else.” After hearing her comment, my heart was beating faster, my respiratory system searched for fresh air to breath in, and my eyes looked for a place to hide because I couldn’t believe in what was happening. I never thought I would receive such honor after being doubted by many people about my abilities to do well in school. Finally, I gathered some courage and said, “Thank you.” I rushed down the stairs and got to my seat within few seconds. I was breathing unevenly,
It is our first day here on the new land. It is like nothing we have ever seen and we will set out in group to explore the new world in the morning, for now we must set up camp. I hope to find gold and possibly native people these so called savages and convert them to Christianity.
I was in a school of unfamiliar hallways and unfamiliar classrooms, located in a city with unfamiliar streets and unfamiliar people, placed in a country of unfamiliar words and unfamiliar customs. My everyday life depended on one classmate who happened to also speak Mandarin Chinese. I’d ask him for the homework, the in-class assignment, to talk to the teacher for me, to guide me to the next class. As his responses became shorter I realized the faults of depending so heavily on a stranger. I didn’t have much of an option, really. I could hear but, in that classroom, I might as well as have been
What is to live the “American dream”? Is it for freedom, money, or a better life? Perhaps all three, but coming to America to fulfill that dream wasn’t easy for most. The journey to America was based on sacrifice and driven motivation. My grandparents’ journey to America was probably a piece of cake considered to other immigrants, but they each shared the same goal and desire to be in America. My grandmother is 97 years old and has dementia, she tells me her story of traveling here and how she adapted to her new lifestyle.
My first time experience in USA, when I came in 2009, and started school in the august of 2009. When I started school I did not know how to speak, because my primary language is different at home so it was very difficult for me to speak English, and to read proper English, and was learning English with my ESOL teacher she always help me whenever, I had a test I have to go to different room then my classmates to take test. My esol teacher will help me to understand the Questions, and what the Questions actually asking me so I can answer the Questions accurately and effectively.