Reflection Paper

I am no immigrant. I have been living in this country ever since I was born. My brother, sister, and I are all first generation citizens. Both of my parents were born in Mexico, and at an early age came to the United States. They are now living happily in the U.S as citizens. Growing up I only spoke one language, Spanish. Being Mexican this was the only way I could communicate up until kindergarten. Although it was such a long time ago, I remember how hard it was for me to adjust. I know I had a strong accent, and I was sometimes ashamed of it. On occasion I remember accidentally speaking Spanish to my classmates. “Did you finish your homework?" “Si, todo esta-”. “I mean, yeah, all done.” I often got these confused looks on their face whenever this happened. The next year in first grade I became accustomed to English. I no longer spoke spanish to my parents. When the realization that I could no longer speak Spanish hit my parents, they were shocked. Personally I was also disappointed. Especially today, in a school with a general population of Hispanics I would love to be able to converse with them. I often get people asking if I speak Spanish and I tell them why I can’t, but can understand what the words mean. All because I did not want to look different in a school where people were primarily white back then. I don’t recall many people of my race at this school at all.

I loved Mexico so much, but after suffering a kidnap attempt my parents decided that the best thing to do was to immigrate to America. Our life in Mexico was set and coming to the states was like starting all over again. Learning a new language, trying new foods, and adjusting to the American way of life was very difficult, but I fell in love with the country that witnessed my birth. During the migration from one country to the other, my family went from having everything to having nothing. I never thought that I would go very far in my academic achievements because I was always the kid who didn’t know English. I was that child who was once called a “Mojado” or “Wetback” only because I didn’t speak the language that everyone else did. Growing up in a neighborhood where drug smuggling was an everyday thing, I came to realize that the only way out of this cycle was through education. As a young boy, I decided that I was going to be bilingual and show everyone who made fun of me that I was capable of being educated in

Growing up in a Latino household is hard. My parents only spoke Spanish therefore my first language was Spanish. For the first few years of my life this was not really a problem, I enjoyed life as any normal little girl would. I got to talk to all of my cousins and all of the neighbor’s children. It wasn’t until I got to school that it became real that I was going to learn English. Don’t get me wrong I always knew I had to learn English my parents always talked to me about school and helped me as much as they could. It was also around this same time where I started to understand that it was not only hard for me it was hard for them as well. My parents had to live in this country not knowing the main language spoken.

My entire family was born in Guadalajara, Mexico. After three and a half years of living there my family decided to seek a better future in The United States. My father would go to the United States back and forth to work and earn money to send to us in Mexico. Eventually my mother was able to get a visa and my brother along with my little sister had an alternate way into the United States. We lived in Dallas Texas and Atlanta Georgia before settling in Howard county Maryland in a very small apartment. Luckily we were doing pretty well with my dad being the only one knowing English at the time. My father was working two jobs and I was getting ready to start kindergarten. I was very excited because the education we would have received in Mexico was nothing compared to the education in Howard County. I was excited for what was to come, but there were disadvantages of knowing only Spanish. Being bullied because of my poor English had an impact on me. I was in completely separate classes learning things that were simple compared to the regular course. I was excluded from certain activities, field trips and assemblies. I was clueless at first though as I slowly learned the language I understood things a lot more.

Throughout the course of this semester, I have continuously grown as a writer. Prior to taking this course, I had little experience or knowledge when it came to writing. I used to struggle with forming my thoughts into writing, let alone a paper. I was never confident with what I wrote. My writing had no greater purpose other than the assignment. My writing process included: writing my paper, proofreading it, and turning it in. Once the paper left my hands, it also left my mind. Throughout this course we worked with others, visited the writing lab, wrote critiques, and we were able to revise our papers. I believe that all of this is has caused me to grow greatly as a writer.

When I first started school, I remember how difficult it was for me to make the transition from Spanish to English. My Mom left me at the door of the school in the morning, but since I was placed in an English-only classroom, the next time I opened my mouth to speak to anyone was when she picked me up again that afternoon. I didn't know what anyone was saying around me, and to make matters worse, my teacher didn't speak a single word of Spanish. That day, like every other day, I came home crying because I felt like an outsider. That year was very difficult for me because I ended up in the back corner of the classroom not participating. As a result, I had to take several years of summer school in order to catch up, something that

When I entered middle school I once again felt I was outsider, the friends that I had in elementary were all gone so I began my journey once more. Since Spanish was my first language whenever I spoke in English It sounded like Spanish to me. The older kids in my class would make fun of me and joke when I wasn't around. I felt I had no self-identity, esteem, or respect. As a result, my grades dropped and I felt as if there was no place for me in this world. I still remember crying kneeling in front of my mama telling her "por favor mama vamonos a Mexico para nuesta casa". My mother would respond that this was my for my advantage and that we had to scarafice what we had so our lives could be better. From that day on I promised myself that I wasn’t going to cry or put myself down for any reason.

Being a latino in the U.S had been and still is the reason for suffering discrimination against one's aspirations and goals in life. Not only that but as an ESL life was far from being the American Dream most people come to this country looking for. The truth is that for those that had not escape from the category of ESL, prejudice will be a stigma that would follow them through high school and life. From these tumultuous waters I rose. Expectations were low and many assume that I was either stupid or incapable to compete with my classmates. My attitude and determination were the floating devices for my sicking life.

Growing up, my parents sacrificed endlessly to ensure I would thrive in America; they were Mexican immigrants, weren’t fluent in English, and struggled to assimilate into American culture. Their barriers wouldn’t stop them from presenting me with an opportunistic life. I didn’t have the luxury of parents that had proper schooling; all they taught me was to work hard and to not allow anything to bring me down. I was raised in a low-income neighborhood, and as my peers were entangling themselves in drugs and gangs, I focused on my schooling. I knew the importance of education and all the fruits of labor that would eventually come with it. I didn't’ fall into peer pressure, I surpassed the expectations of my family, and most importantly, did not fall into the negative statistics that correlate with Latinos.

Learning a new language at my age was a thug, people make fun of you in school if you don’t understand or don’t know how to say something. Only a few people help you. When I lived in Mexico I was always one of the best students and most of the times I was on the honor roll. Without knowing English in this country, I couldn’t the same. I start school here in Houston the 9th grade and my grades were very low, I couldn’t believe that my grades went from 100 to less than 50. Also, I couldn’t do my work, homework and tests because I didn’t understand or I didn't know how to ask. All this situation made me feel so incapable and frustrated. I started to use that frustration and courage to lose my fear and sorrow to ask my teachers and classmates for help. I decided to talk more English than Spanish with people in the stores, malls, and school. During the weekend with my cousins I remember that I used to talk to them in Spanish and they talked to me English so I could learn more vocabulary and how to pronounce the words. Listen to music in English helped me a lot familiarizing my ear to the language too, and using my free time to translate words from Spanish to English to learn more, so I could do better in

When I entered school my parents refused to place me in the Spanish-speaking classroom. They feared the discrimination I would face as an immigrant segregated from Americans, a complexity that they combated everyday in their lives. No matter what my parents tried, they could not shake the feeling that they did not belong here. So much so that I was forced into an English speaking class with barely any knowledge of the language. Although I was scared at first, I was an obedient student and thus able to blend in like any American child, just like my parents wanted. After a couple years, I even began to give my father basic lessons in the English language during dinnertime, explaining to him the difference between hot dog and perro caliente. Somewhere between my effortful pronunciation and accidental commentary in English, I lost him. He exclaimed that he didn't need to know English, that I knew it well enough for the entire family. As the reality hit me, my

It was hard to adapt to the system. I was, and still am an outcast. The language was the hardest thing to learn as a child. It was hard because as a little girl I couldn’t ask my parents, the only people I trusted, for help. They were clueless about the language also. Because of the great language barrier, my full potential wasn’t shown and I was held back. At the same time, my parent’s matrimony wasn’t going so well and they separated. Soon after the separation, my older sister and I moved with our mom away from the west coast. It was just us now. Times were rough. My mom was always working. Her three jobs didn’t permit her to bond much with us. Back in that time I didn’t understand the circumstances, but today I am extremely grateful for her and her determination to never give up and her only reason was me and my sister. Moving to away from the west coast benefitted me a lot. There were less hispanics so I had no option but to learn English. After I mastered English, it would bring me great pleasure to see my name in the honorary roll. I loved the look my mom gave me when I received recognitions from my schools. It was a look of proudness. Our different skin color, language, and culture were motives enough for American people to make us outcasts. I would get so angry when kids would make racist comments about me and my country. I have learnt that some people aren’t educated to know that people are people no matter the culture, the differences. They weren’t taught to respect. I’m forgiving to those who made me feel less because of my

Back then, I was living in Mexico, struggling with learning Spanish. I was not able to roll my “R’s” and confusing my “N’s” and “D’s”. I was conflicted with the idea that I might not even be able to communicate with those around me. I wouldn’t be able to tell my parents about my day at school or tell my grandparents about my dreams for the future. I was left with the idea that I might be the only member in my family who had difficulties learning our native language. I could barely grasp the idea of knowing one language and knowing more seem absurd. But as my Spanish improved, I began attacking the English language, well attacking the numbers. However, just as I had gotten the numbers down, I was told that I would be moving to the United States and be part of an English-speaking school; that I will no longer have to show my improvement in the Spanish language, but focus on learning English. My

As a new student in a foreign land I had to comply with the norms which were almost alien like to my adolescent mind. Some of the major norms that separated Mexico and the U.S. included speaking and writing English. I was able to slowly adapt over the years at school by being enrolled in an all Spanish class until fourth grade where I was moved onto a bilingual class and then finally fifth grade when the school concluded that I was ready for an all English class. This was an accomplishment for both my family and myself in that it showed progress, adaptability, and resiliency because I became bilingual which made me

I was seven years old and it was my first day in an American school. My mom and dad had decided that moving to the U.S would be the best option in order for us to have a better life rather than the one we had in Mexico. I didn't know a single word in English so I was put in the bilingual class. In the class the teacher spoke in both English and Spanish, it was in order to help me slowly learn the language but also feel comfortable talking in both languages. Since I came to this school in third grade I felt out of place and a bit uncomfortable since I didn't really know a lot of people in this new school. In third grade my teacher was really good at helping me when it came to learning to speak and write the language. To me that wasn't enough though I felt like I needed to have more options other than school and homework, so what I did was to tutor myself along