Riddle of My Life

Growing up, I was constantly surrounded by people of the same ethnic race and culture. I was raised in the small city of Temple City where a lot of older generation Asian immigrants resided, which resulted in my schools being mostly dominated by the first generation Asian American population. Because of this similarity of race and culture with my peers, it was fairly easy for me to bond with other students as well as feel comfortable within the realms of my schools and neighborhood. I had little trouble learning and participating in classrooms and also was able to be very involved in leadership positions in extracurricular programs at my high school which was a good learning experience for me.

I was born in Northern, New York, about forty miles from the Canadian border in a wasteland of a town called Carthage, sixty miles from the nearest walmart. My mother, now Louise Percy, is ex-navy and worked for the federal government on Fort Drum until she retired ever since I was born. My father, Donald Bishop, was a beauty. He was in and out of prison all his life, including juvenile. He was imprisoned much through my baby-toddler stage and when he wasn’t imprisoned he jumped from construction job to construction job, drinking and smoking marijuana heavily until the day he died, last May 28th. I was born into a household with my mother, father, brother and half-sister for the first few years in my life. My half-sister skipped town after developing a heroin addiction and my father drove my mother psychologically insane until she ended up in a psych ward and we spent a few weeks with my grandmother (father’s mom) until she was released. My mother and father split up and my father never fought for custody nor paid child support. My mother had been a single mom for ten years

Growing up in a predominantly white community, I had never thought of the issue of race as a child. My neighbor and I were best friends, and I never thought of myself as different. She had blonde hair; I had black. She had blue eyes; I had dark brown. We loved to play with the same things, thus we were

The psychological effects of one’s childhood experiences can have a huge toll on the person we blossom into in life and that was the divorce of my two parents at the age of six. Growing up with an alcoholic father has had an outstanding impact on my self-worth. I could never see myself opening up to others; I could never be my true self in front of anyone except for a few people that have supported me through it all. I’ve always wondered over the period of my life that there was a reason for my father’s actions and why my father wasn’t there through the most important events throughout my sister and I’s lives.

When I was young I didn’t really realize the impact of being African-American until high school. I went to a predominately white school for elementary and middle school. I was just like any other youth. I had my group of friends who were white; I was active in school activities and clubs. I was a student athlete and I got along well with my teachers. Everyone saw me as an upbeat person with a bubbly personality. Surprisingly, race was never brought up it wasn’t an issue for me during that period of my life. However, as I got older I realize there was a difference. As an adult I could really see the prejudice in others. I recall working a on a special project for the

My block was a melting pot of people but my high school was not. After entering high school is when I realized that I was white or Caucasian. During this time, I was also given the

Let 's start from the beginning, I was a high school freshman who had been around the same people my whole life. Some might call it out of the norm for someone of my skin color. Although it was a public school in the suburbs of Houston it was infamous of being the “white school.” The school had just opened and there were only sophomores

The most memorable time when I was impacted educationally by diversity would be my freshman year in High School. I had gone to a private Christian school from Kindergarten through 8th grade. My mom thought that it would be a great idea to send me to public school for my freshman year. Mind you, I lived in Dallas, TX at the time and public school is quite different than private school there. I was not only the minority in school, but I was one of five Caucasian kids in the entire school. I was made fun of for being white, coming from private school, and for being smart. Just like the article, Helping Diverse Learners Succeed, I had to learn about my new environment. I didn’t understand why the kids were mean to me and why

Entering the white privileged school the students gave me the first impression. They had huge potty mouths and no respect for others. They were the ones who taught me my first cuss words and taught me how to give others “the bird”. As well as the teachers, they had work ethic… sorta. I remember how my teacher was reading to our class and one of the characters in the book was named “Mrs. Hussy” and another teacher misheard her. Everyone in class laughed but me. I didn’t understand like they did. I learned new things everyday because of these people. Going through all this, I held onto my culture. Why my culture you may ask? Well it’s because within my culture respect is the most important thing. I dealt with all the hooligans in a respectful manner. I had to represent my family in a way to where it shows that my parents have and are currently raising me

Out of 700 students, I was the third colored individual! Starting, I was very quiet. I didn’t want to talk at all. I everyday was stared at and teachers would demonstrate racial behavior towards me. Not everyone was like those people. Some teachers gave me extra attention and some students tried comforting me when I was confused.

My educational experience with other races had been limited before high school. I can count on one hand the number of classmates from elementary and middle school that were not caucasian. Even in my church there are only a couple of families of color. Entering high school was quite a learning experience for me. Suddenly I was thrust into the world of Joliet West where only a third of the students are white. Entering this new world was like discovering mythical creatures, created by the stories from movies and my older sister, were real. Based on the myths I heard, I found myself questioning if any of the Hispanic students in my classes were illegal immigrants. I encountered loud black girls that intimidated me with their larger than life personalities.

My parents and my extended family has always made sure I knew my culture and that my race was different from other races such as Caucasian and Asian children I went to school with. I also always knew I related to a different race due to my family skin color versus the other people who were around whose skin color is different from mines. As a child when I was growing up I heard adults or older kids talk about issues such as different races and people they have interacted during the day. Another thing exposed to me as a kid was the different political issues especially George Bush administration and racism as general. Being exposed to many views on how the color of your skin will affect the way society sees you and places you in the social system put perspective on how I saw my future. Being black you often automatically deemed as you are not going to succeed in life or you are not going be educated enough to place in high

As a young girl, I never quite understood the importance my dad’s job had on me until I became much older. Throughout my childhood I was often mistreated out of the sight of my parents. From brutal words to simple exclusion, I never really fit in at my church. I was constantly separated from all of the children because I was the Pastor’s

The school atmosphere was different I was hanging with Caucasian girls and the African American children did not understand what I was doing being so close to children opposite of my own culture. At that point, I was unsure of what their problem was but realized they were sheltered from other cultures and raised differently. This caused several fights as a child because other children would call me a “little white girl” and I had no idea of what that meant and was offended. I was raised around majority boys in the neighborhood, until I started playing softball, some would consider me as a tomboy. So

My mother relocated to Birmingham, Alabama my first year of high school seeking a better life. Apparently, my father started to miss having his family because he went from being a “ghost father” to a “pop up father”. My father was here one moment and gone the next; he was constantly in and out of our lives. Initially, my classmates scrutinized and ridiculed me for having a fatherless household. I felt destitute and powerless. I needed to find someone or something to influence me in a better way by helping me change from a boy into a man. I became a recluse, never interacting with anyone.