Personal Narrative: My Movement Across The United States

My journey involved not only me but many others. My journey started when my father let our home country to come to the USA, my mom didn’t want to leave so she stayed. I was left with my mom and was lonely and a bit mad at my father. At age 3 my mother left to go to the US to be with my father, I was left with my grandparent. I guess that being without my parents for 5 years changed me a bit; I can recall sometimes feeling lonely seeing how others had their parents with them going to place and enjoying being with them. Most of the time I didn’t really mind being with my grandparents because after all I couldn’t cry about it and if did, I knew that it wasn’t going change anything. Then in 2008 I came to the US, I started going to school and later on noticed that being in a new country didn’t mean that things were going to be well, I realized that no matter where you are in the world you still have to work hard to get to places, I didn’t feel like that at the time. After many things happened, many happy and bad times the journey that I have has made me become aware that one must work hard so that one can become a somebody. I have also learned that most people take things for granted, even

An american story is a story revolving around his or her lifestyle, culture and everyday habits. This is about past experiences, accomplishments, and biggest downfalls. I will be discussing not only my biggest accomplishments, but also my biggest failures that I have occurred in life. What will my american story be? Keep reading to find out.

America’s gift to my generation is amazing because veterans have used all their potential for us. They fought for us to be alive right now. Their gift to us is much more than I expected. I am so thankful and I appreciate all they have done for us.

Moving to the United States is a huge step for an immigrant. As an international student, I have been passing through this event that most Brazilian desire to. However, it is hard to adapt with the new culture and lifestyle, knowing that I have my own values. The “Two Ways to Belong in America” illustrates two views of getting used with this new culture, in which I identified myself with one of these ways: my nationality cannot be change with a simple paper called green card. Thus, starting a new life in a foreign country is tough because I have to find a way to readjust to this new culture, not ignoring

The year of 2014 late summer I came to America with dreams and hopes, expecting the better for me and my family. I have family that had came before me; however they weren't that respectful for someone that had been living in Mexico their whole life. I used to get put down by the way I looked, talked or how I acted. I recall that they would talk in english about me , and make fun of me , so I wouldn’t understand what they were saying. I have cousins that don't even appreciate all the sacrifices that one as a parent has to make , so they are able to give a better life for their kids. On the good side of the story I would always keep in mind how I came here? thanks to who?and why?. So I realize that I fitted in the Hispanic community by attending to Hispanic events, playing soccer, and cooking hispanic food.

Stepping out of my first plane ride, I experience an epiphany of new culture, which seems to me as a whole new world. Buzzing around my ears are conversations in an unfamiliar language that intrigues me. It then struck me that after twenty hours of a seemingly perpetual plane ride that I finally arrived in The United States of America, a country full of new opportunities. It was this moment that I realized how diverse and big this world is. This is the story of my new life in America.

I didn’t believe in aliens until I was abducted by them. I was put in some kind of contraption and I’m not sure what happened exactly, but it’s clear that I’m not where I was. Everything in 2016 is different, I don’t know if I’m in a different state or not but people are dressing differently and acting differently, and the cars, the cars are all different! I’ve been here for quite some time now and have noticed a lot of differences from where I lived in Oceanside, California in 1940. I’ve been transported to the year 2016 and there are so many things that have changed and evolved and among them are political, economic, social, and cultural changes.

Moving has been a part of my life, but really it's just work, I like to think of it as a test, that I passed. After moving those five times I understood that, in life it's most important to work hard, every kid hears that but I experienced it, and I'm thankful for it. Without that I would've still made it through those three years, three high schools, and five houses, but it was a matter of making the best of it; or making it

Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Patriotism means to stand by the country. It does not mean to stand by the president or any other public official, save exactly to the degree in which he himself stands by the country. It is patriotic to support him insofar as he efficiently serves the country. It is unpatriotic not to oppose him to the exact extent that by inefficiency or otherwise he fails in his duty to stand by the country. In either event, it is unpatriotic not to tell the truth, whether about the president or anyone else.”

“Do you like your job mom?” My son Matthew asks me casually looking up at me from his wooden desk chair. I’m working on cooking our family dinner and he’s currently working on a 10th grade essay, where he describes what he wants to become when he grows up. I always have thought that term “growing up” was funny, because through everything I certainly never have. I smiled down at him and answered “Yes, Matthew, I love it very much.” “Can I interview you about it please, it’s part of the assignment?” he replied. I nod and make my way over to the matching desk chair and sit down. “Just answer my questions about your job” He said. “Wait Matt, don’t you have to write this down?” “UGH mom this isn’t 2016, no one writes anymore. Gosh. My IPhone 17

My pre-adolescent years were spent in a community thick with diversity. My friendships were as diverse as the environment in which I lived. It never struck me that racial and ethnic ideals separated people in society. However, upon moving to a predominately white upper-class community I began to question such racial and ethnic ideas. From my adolescent years through today I began noticing that certain people are viewed differently for reasons relating to race and ethnicity. As a result, the most recent community I grew up in has kept me sheltered from aspects of society. As a product of a community where majorities existed, I found myself unexposed to the full understanding of race and ethnicity. Prior to the class I had never fully dealt with issues of race or ethnicity, as a result I wondered why they would be of any importance in my life.

Growing up in Ghana, I had heard a lot of things about the U.S. This was a country I had always wanted to visit; my prayer was answered when I got the opportunity to travel there. Arriving in a new environment came with many experiences. Adjusting with food, language and the weather was not easy. With the passage of time, however I have been able to0 adjust and fit it. This write-up therefore is to elaborate on my experiences since coming to U.S.

The other day, I tried to share an article, on a social justice issue, with my close friend [white, cisgendered female], but before I could start reading, she responded with “Ugh, don’t read that. I’m not in the mood for anything depressing,” all the while rolling her eyes.

Studying in a foreign country is an interesting experience of an individual lifetime. One tends to learn a number of things relating to ways of life in a foreign land. Social, political and economic values and aspects are usually different from one region to another. Therefore, through studying abroad one is able to learn different issues about another society such as gender and sexuality issues, social class and race/ethnicity issues. Having come from a developing country studying in the U.S.A has been a great experience personally. This paper will attempt to provide a reflection of my personal experience on studying in the U.S by comparing the history of Angola and the U.S.

If she had been walking at her usual pace, the small movement at the side of the road would not have caught her eye. She looked up at me hiding in the top flour of the motel and I saw her run I knew what she was capable of doing and I wasn't going to let her do that to me I ran to the elevator and hopped on it and clicked the ground floor button