Short Story : ' Melting Pot '

790 WordsOct 27, 20154 Pages
Not everyone has their own story of what their experience is like after they got to the US, whether it is bitter or exciting. As most people know, the United States is a “melting pot”, a humongous pot with countless ethnicities mixed together. In the streets, whichever way a view point faces---there will always be White, Black, Asian, Hispanic, Native, and Pacific Islanders from countless countries and regions in the world. So, there is no surprise that my family is also part of the “melting pot”. Our story is only one of the many. Growing up in Cambodia, my father was a motorcyclist (so I call him. It’s like a taxi driver, but instead of cars it’s a motorcycle. One must be rich to own a car.), my mother, a housewife. Though, she spends most of her lifetime at church, for she was very religious. Every day after school, my father would pick me up. Though, he was often hours late at times due to driving his customers, he still was my hero. My earliest memories of school would be my days in the kindergarten. I remember enjoying school quite very much back then, every day was an exciting day. Most of the time, I would learn Math, Art, Chinese, Music, and about all the different people around me. One of the few favorite subjects of mine was art, most the time we draw and create new things out of scratch, others were spent on making cards and posters. It was like another world every time I draw. My teacher would reward me with compliments while I, being that shy kid in class I
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